Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eve was bored. It was surprising, just how many worlds were deeply boring. Eve was sure something interesting was happening. Somewhere. Maybe on the other side of the city, maybe on the other side of the country, on the other side of the world, or maybe on the other side of the street. Eve didn’t know. Eve didn’t care. Most worlds were boring. Or maybe Eve had just stopped looking for the interesting parts of them.

Eve had more important things to worry about. Like walking down the sidewalk and avoiding any annoying people. Or murderous people. Gotham had plenty of those. It was dark. Eve needed to find somewhere to go before it got much darker. They were walking but she wasn’t sure where she was going. Actually it had no idea where it was going. But they walked anyway. Eve was walking down a sidewalk. They were walking towards the side of the sidewalk by the road. Unfortunately for it, that meant that when a car went by and passed over a puddle Eve got somewhat drenched in cold snowy water. It just rubbed its left temple as they continued to walk. 

In their own world this sidewalk had a story. Probably. Eve really thought there was a story tied to the sidewalk. But that might’ve been the exhaustion. Or how hungry they were. Or wishful thinking. Either way, the details were hazy but Eve would’ve bet, if they had anything substantial to bet, that this sidewalk had some silly story connected to it. Something stupid. Ridiculous. Maybe this was the sidewalk where it tried to do ten cartwheels in a row and almost got run over when they fell. That would’ve been a stupid way to die. Maybe she walked down this sidewalk with Jason while talking about some section of nothing. A book, maybe. Something that didn’t really matter.

Or maybe something awful happened on this sidewalk, in their own world. Eve was in Gotham, every Gotham has something awful happening all the time. Good or bad, in Eve’s world the sidewalk was probably interesting. Something had happened on it or would happen soon. But that sidewalk, that version of the sidewalk, was dull and cold and boring and dark. After the dozenth world or so the worlds started to bleed together. They were simply boring. Eve was on the right side of the road. They were pretty sure it was the right. It might’ve been the left. Across the road there was something new. A park, maybe. There were twin statues standing at the entrance, their arms outstretched forming a sort of half finished arc.

“Snow on stone, stone resting on bone,” Eve muttered. 

They couldn’t remember what version of Tim they were quoting. Or maybe it was one of the Jason’s that had said it. Or maybe Eve read it once, awhile ago. There was more to the thing. Eve knew that. It was a poem. But Eve could not remember the thing. They didn’t try very hard. Eve crossed the road. It didn’t bother to try and read the sign. They were tired and there wasn’t a chance they’d be able to read the thing. This park place was new and that was all Eve cared about. If it closed soon then it closed soon, it wasn’t like anyone in Gotham particularly cared if some random kid was somewhere they weren’t meant to be.

Eve went inside. They walked down the concrete path. The main one, that is. The thing branched out. The various paths led to different statues and shrines. There were some candles on the shrines but the main source of light was from lampposts on the path. Eve followed the light. There were so many shrines. Dozens and dozens of them. There were people too and that somehow made Eve feel worse. She didn’t want to see anyone. It felt more comfortable with statues with graves with dead or inanimate things than with the living. 

Eve almost tripped. It put its arms out to the side in an attempt to stay upright. She was shakier than she had realized. More exhausted. They exhaled slowly and rubbed at their left temple. It was wet and cold and tired. She was tired. The worst part was their hands. Eve missed being able to really use their hands. Its hands shook too bad to be useful anymore. They didn’t know if it was from anxiety, or the cold, or some other injury. Left over pain that Eve couldn’t have remembered if they tried. It didn’t matter why they shook but they did, all the time. Eve missed being able to use her hands. It was a ridiculous complaint, considering just how many problems they had. 

Eve continued to walk. Her backpack felt far too heavy for something so empty. They paused when they came to a new path. All the paths that branched off the main one were cement. They were stone, they were clearly taken care of. The path Eve stared at barely counted as a path. It was just grass that was worn down. But Eve walked along it anyway. It started to slope upward. Which was annoying and harder to go up. But Eve continued walking up. And up. And up. They got to the top of the small hill eventually. It was darker there. Surrounded by trees.

In the center of the cave of leaves and wood was a person. Eve jerked backward, ready to run, before it realized it was just a statue. They winced. A large reaction to absolutey nothing. The statue, the shrine, was broken. Cracked and messed up. The pedestal for it was crumbly, cracks ran along the side of it and plants that grew within it. In the middle of the shrine as a statue of a person. Well, Eve wouldn’t have called them a person. Eve wasn’t sure what they were. But their face was hidden in a hood, and there were crows everywhere. Stone crows crowded around the feet of the statue and on it’s shoulders. One sat perched on the statues arm. The entire thing lacked detail, it lacked any sort of care. Nothing and nobody had fixed it, not in a long time. It was forgotten.

And yet there were offerings. Offerings left at this thing shoved to the back and out of the way. Eve sat down to look over them. It wasn’t as snowy there, the trees caught some of it, but it was still cold. Eve didn’t care. She didn’t touch any of the offerings, they weren’t hers to mess with, but they were interesting. There was a crow theme, probably to go along with the statue. Eve couldn’t read the plague at the bottom of the statue but it probably said something like ‘super scary corvid guy’. The offerings consisted of a crow stuffed animal, a few actually, and gummy worms. For the most part anyway. A lot of packets of gummy worms. There was a crow keychain and drawings. It looked like it was all from the same kid. Maybe in this world Scarecrow was backed by a god of crows. That would be…weird. Cool but weird. 

“Someone cares about you,” Eve offered to the statue. “Just be careful you don’t end up helping someone who runs around with a potato sack on their head.” 

That made more sense in Eve’s head but they were talking to a statue and in her experience statue’s weren’t picky about who they conversed with.
“If Scarecrow is the one bringing you this stuff maybe steer the kid away from the whole murderer thing. Steer the guy away from Gotham altogether.” 

It was always dark in Gotham. Well, not always. But from what Eve had seen that was as constant as something could be in the multiverse. Gotham was dark and it was cold during the winter. Eve was cold. The cold barely registered anymore. Eve was cold and it was getting darker and the plot of land with shrines and statues looked like as good of a place to stay as anywhere else.

“I have no idea why anyone stays in Gotham,” Eve muttered as they tried to open their backpack. “The entire place is cursed. Literally.” Eve looked around vaguely at the nest of trees and snow and grass. “Maybe this one specifically isn’t cursed. But most of them are.” Eve struggled to open the main zipper of their backpack. “If the person bringin’ you stuff is Scarecrow tell the guy to get out of Gotham before it destroys him. That’s what Gotham does, it gets it’s claws in you. Then you’re stuck.” When Eve finally managed to open the backpack they didn’t do more than stare at what was inside. 

In Eve’s experience there were numerous stages to being hungry. The first stage was by far the worst. That was when it hurt, to be hungry. The second stage was when you aren’t particularly hungry anymore because your brain has accepted that you won’t be eating anytime soon. At that point you can still function, but you might be a bit wobbly or tired. The third stage was when things got…weird. Eve never remembered much when it got that bad. After around three full days of not-eating, when that third stage began to show up, Eve would pass out. Or fall. It was harder to think and function. But it still didn’t hurt much. Eve was on the second stage. They had eaten some, in the last few days, but not much. The last world they had been in was…less than ideal.

Eve was tired. They wanted to sleep. But it needed to eat. Eve knew she needed to eat. They pulled out a bar from the last world. Or maybe it was two worlds ago. They pulled out a bar from another universe and attempted to peel the wrapper off. Eves hands were shaking too badly to help much. Its fingers weren’t coordinated because of the cold. After a full minute of fumbling Eve debated throwing the bar down the hill and letting the birds eat it.
Eve leaned against the shrine. It was pretty sure that was morally fine and she was tired and if some god got mad at them for leaning against their forgotten shrine for a few minutes that god was dumb anyway. Eve had a few layers of red hoodies on. That helped with the cold but they had lost their gloves a few worlds back and her shoes were essentially destroyed. Eve tilted one of its feet in the snow. Bored. Eve was bored. And cold. And the snow on their face and arms and feet and everywhere was cold and uncomfortable. Eve glared at the bar again.

“I’ve got to start opening stuff whenever my hands work,” they muttered to no one but the statue. “Think ahead and all that. Thinking ahead used to be my thing. I was pretty good at that. The strategy. And now,” Eve said as they faked a light hearted tone, “I can’t open a stupid wrapper.” Eve dropped the bar onto the ground and looked back inside the backpack. They found a bar she had opened awhile ago. “Past me is apparently useful for something after all.” Eve took a bite of the bar. It was gross. Absolutely not worth the effort.
“Is your favorite food gummy worms or does the kid just not get what crows eat?” The statue didn’t answer. Eve accepted the rudeness and continued to talk. “I doubt corvids could eat gummy worms. It would make them sick. That’s strictly people-food, if I remember right.” Eve couldn’t remember their own favorite food, they absolutely couldn’t remember what crows and whatnot were meant to eat. But despite everything Eve had lost they still had logical reasoning. For the most part. It depended on who you asked. “The drawings are cute. And the stuffed animal.” Eve managed another bite of the bar. It was still gross. “How did they even find you?” No one answered. “You’re out here. Nobody knows you’re here but this one kid, this one person. Were they just wandering around and ‘oh look crow dude time to give them some gummy worms’?” Eve didn’t get an answer. They took another bite of its bar. “Feel like I’m the only one contributing to our discussion here, crow dude. It’s a bit rude.”
The statue, of course, didn’t offer an answer. 

“I met one statue who talked but that turned out to be a person pretending to be a statue for some reason. Gotta tell you, now that was an awkward conversation.” Eve pulled their knees closer to their chest. “I wonder what it’d be like to be a statue. Unable to move, just watching while people go by. That’s as far from me as ya can get.” Eve tapped its foot against the ground. They stopped talking. It was tired . “You’ve got to be bored. Not much to watch out here.” 

Everything suddenly got dark. The lights, the lampposts on the main path below, had gone out. Eve pulled back, pressed their back against the pedestal the shrine rested on. It shut its eyes. “Ya’d think I’d be, ya’d think I’d be used to this by now,” Eve joked, eyes shut as they fumbled around for their backpack. She tried to keep the terror out of her voice. They found the flashlight and clicked it on. She opened her eyes again and exhaled slowly. “The dark. The sudden dark.” The flashlight didn’t help much. It was just one you’d put on a keychain. Eve held it close anyway. Eve didn’t want to eat anymore. They put the half finished bar onto the pedestal. Eve held onto the flashlight tight in its shaking hand and grabbed the unopened bar from the snow.
“Maybe, maybe you’ll have better luck than me. Openin’ it. I should warn you, they aren’t mine. I stole them from another Jason. But the guy was a dick, he didn’t need them anyway.” Eve shined the flashlight up at the crow dude’s statue. The light shook as Eve committed the statue to memory. 

“Now I get you’re not much for conversation but if you could not let anything jump out at me for, like, an hour I’d appreciate it.” Eve shakily exhaled as they looked around at the dark. It wasn’t entirely dark, it was Gotham, there were always lights somewhere, but Eve hated it anyway. “Thanks for letting me rest here for a second.” Their backpack was a pathetic excuse for a pillow but it was better than nothing. Eve curled up in front of the shrine and held the flashlight close. She shut her eyes and clicked it off. They fought back the immediate panic. It was dark. And nothing was happening. And everything would be fine. Worst case someone might wake Eve up then they’d turn the light on. That sense of possible safety was worth the burn of the cold metal against its hands. 

It was Gotham. Eve knew Gotham. Eve was Sparrow. Sparrow knew Gotham. They knew a ton of better places to hide that almost definitely existed. She could have gone somewhere better, safe. It had money, money that it could’ve used to hide out at a motel somewhere. But Eve was not going to get attached. That never ended well. They always had to leave and they always left a mess behind. Eve messed up things. It always messed up something or other. They would be in this world for a handful of days. She might be stuck there a week at most. One week of being outside wouldn’t kill them. It hadn’t before. 

Eve would stay out of the way. With the crow dude. Or they’d move along. Eve would do what they always did, it would wander about aimlessly until she got hurt or hurt someone else. There weren’t any long term consquences to Eve’s actions anymore. They disappeared from everyone so quickly. It didn’t matter what they did. She could do any number of awful things and no one would know. Or Eve could have gone around destroying time lines and telling people what to avoid so they could stay alive. Eve could have helped people or killed them or ruined things. But Eve stayed out of the way. Because the thing they did more than anything else was mess up.

Eve instinctively throws the flashlight in their hand at whoever is approaching them. They jerk backward, almost hitting their head on the stone. It grabs its backpack and stands to run before the person speaks. They dodged Eve’s attack via stick of light far too effortlessly. Or maybe Eve’s aim just wasn’t get.

“Eve. Wait.” Eve winces. They look up at the guy. At Tim.
“I’m not your Eve.”
“I know.” Generally when people recognize Eve on sight it’s because their own is dead and they think she’s back. Eve doesn’t particularly enjoy being a ghost, especially one who gives people false hope before ripping it away. But this Tim knew, apparently, that Eve wasn’t from this universe. Or at least that Eve wasn’t the ‘correct’ variant.
“What do you want?”
“You are cold.” Eve huffs.
“Yeah. That happens when you’re outside and it’s snowing.” Tim doesn’t react to her words. Tim is weird. Eve couldn’t say why he’s weird, what specifically about him is slightly unsettling, but it’s something.
“You need blankets. And water.” 

“I have water.” Eve neglects to mention that they only have a half a bottle of water left. Tims face doesn’t change. “I’m fine. I just fell asleep. At this crow guys statue. And now I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going to go.”
“Wherever I want.” Tim continues to stare at Eve. They adjust the straps of its backpack. “I’ll figure it out.”
“You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.” Tim doesn’t look impressed.
“You’re shivering.”
“Shivering is a good sign,” Eve argues. “It means my organs aren’t shutting down from the cold. What’s left of them anyway.” Eve rubs their left temple as Tim narrows his eyes. “It was a joke.” Sort of. Who needs two kidneys anyway.
“You would rather stay here, outside, than come with me. Why?”
“Cause you’re creepy.” Tim’s face doesn’t change. Eve shifts her weight from one side to another. People generally go away by now. They stop caring. They aren’t invested anymore. They want the good feeling of helping someone, they don’t generally care about who they’re helping, so when the ‘victim’ in question annoys them they have no problem leaving. Tim is not doing that. “I’m not going to be here long. I’ll be fine on my own. Just go find your Eve, or whatever. Go hang out with them.”
“Hi! My names Eevee!” A small child climbs down a tree and runs up to Eve. Eevee offers to shake Eve’s hand. “What’s your name? And your crownouns? Get it, cause crows?”
“I got the joke.”
“Well what’s your name?”
“My name is Eve.” Eevee laughs.
“That is a very good name.” Eve looks at this version of themself. This version is smiling and bubbly and happy. She’s wrapped up in coats and it’s hard to see her face through the fluffy hood of her jacket. Her hair is a messy black, from what Eve can see poking out. She’s tiny and happy. Eve looks at Tim.
“I’m not her.” I’m a twisted version of her , Eve finishes internally. Eve is a lot of things but bubbly isn’t one of them.
“I know. I still want you to come.” 

“Dad, did you tell them your name yet?”

“No little crow I haven’t.”
“His name is Tim! But I call him Dad, cause he’s my dad. And he does a bunch of cool stuff, and also he likes crows.” Eve rubs their left temple. Tim absolutely won’t leave it alone then, if they’ve adopted Eevee. It’d be one thing if Tim knew their Eve a bit, if they were friends or something, but he adopted this worlds version of her. So he cares. Annoyingly. Eve’s head jerks up as Tim comes closer. It pulls away slightly as he carefully comes closer. He goes slowly. He makes himself smaller when he offers her the flashlight. Eve takes it. They shove it into their backpack.
“Are you sure you wanna stay outside? Cause it’s snowin’ and you don’t even have like a real life coat.” Eevee seriously grabs Eves hand and squeezes it. “Super duper cold.”
“I’m fine kid.”
“My name isn’t kid, it’s Eevee silly.”

“I’m fine Eevee.” Eevee shoos Tim backwards. He smiles and takes a few steps back. Eevee yanks on Eve’s arm. Eve bends down so Eevee can whisper in her ear. They keep one eye on Tim the entire time.

“Dad isn’t gonna go until he’s sure you’re okay. An you don’t look very okay.” Eve looks at Tim. He looks earnest, like he actually wants to help. And Eevee is sweet, a cute kid. Eve’s stayed with worse people, Eve has trusted more suspicious people.

“Fine.”
“Yay!” Eevee hugs Eve tight. It flinches but it doesn’t move to reject the hug. She doesn’t hug the kid back. Eevee grabs Eve’s hand. “Come on, I wanna teach you how to talk to crows!”
“Sure. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened this week."

Chapter Text

“Eevee are you cheating? How do you even cheat in Uno?” Eevee grins mischievously. I study her face for hints of cheaterness, entirely unimpressed. “Tim, tell your kid not to cheat at Uno.”
“...how do you cheat at Uno?”

“I don’t know but she’s doing it.” Eevee giggles. It’s the giggle of a cheater. It’s also a bit adorable. I lean forward to ruffle her hair. Eevee pulls her cards close to her chest, eyes narrowing. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
“Hmmmm.”
“I’m innocent until proven guilty.”
“Okey dokey Eve-a-chokey.” I’m not sure if that’s a normal phrase in this universe or if Eevee is just weird. “You aren’t drinking-” I quietly shush her. Tim isn’t in here right now, he’s in another part of the treehouse grabbing food. That means I don’t have to drink anymore water. Which is good because it’s disgusting . Being entirely alone and unsupervised sucks and all but at least you don’t have to drink water. Eevee narrows her eyes. “You have to drink water, it’s important,” She whispers.

“Do you accept bribes?”
“Ooh bribes!” That’s a yes. Kids are super easy to bribe. I lean over to grab my backpack, shoving some of the blankets away when I do. These people have so many blankets. Especially considering they live in a treehouse. I can’t believe they live in a treehouse. It explains how good Eevee is at climbing trees.
“You mind openin’ this for me kid?”
“Eevee, and yes okay!” I hand it to her and she unzips it.
“Pick something in exchange for your silence.” There’s nothing in there I particularly care about. I mean, I’ve got my hoodies, that’s all that matters. And my flashlight.
“What about this?” Eevee holds up a container of sun screen. Okay, well I do actually need that.
“Anything but that.” Sunburn is a ridiculously annoying universal constant. Eevee dramatically reaches in again and holds up a small bag of potato chips.
“I have no idea how old those are kid-uh, I have no idea how old those are, duck. But they’re yours if you want’em.” I don’t think potato chips go bad? There’s no mold on them or anything. I mean, I would eat them even if there was, they’re potato chips, but I don’t want the kid eating mold.
“Duck?” Eevee questions.
“You don’t want me to call you kid.” And I don’t want to call her Eevee. It feels…weird.
“But why duck?” Eevee clearly finds my choice of nickname hilarious.
“Cause you’re a Drake. A Drake is a type of duck.”
“That makes sense. I want these, I like potato chips.”
“They’re all yours.” Eevee hands the backpack to me. “I’ll give you some chocolate chips if you tell me how you keep winning.”
“Skills.”
“Uh huh.”
“Chocolate chips please!” I give her ten chocolate chips. She eats them along with some potato chips. I’ll have to try that. Tim comes in and seriously hands Eevee a plate of food and sets one down to my left. I ignore it. I also ignore the cup of water that’s hidden behind my back. Tim sits down next to Eevee. “Dad, do you wanna play?”
“Sure Eevee.” Tim asked me if I was allergic to anything and I said ‘every vegetable ever except corn’ but apparently he didn’t believe me or broccoli doesn’t count as a vegetable in this universe. “Are we still playing Uno?”
“Yes cause I like Uno. But I wanna eat first, cause it’s hard to hold cards and a fork and also talk.” Eevee very seriously holds up both hands. “I’ve only got two hands and one brain, that is too much stuff.” Tim smiles.

“Understood little crow.” Broccoli is disgusting and I will not be eating it but macaroni is acceptable. If the guy wanted to poison me or whatever he can do that without niceness trickery. I’m not exactly ready to beat up Tim Drake. Common criminals? No problem. Creepy assassins who always find me too fast when I get to a universe? Doable. Tim is a different story. At least in most universes. Tim is currently looking at me. I ignore him in favor of putting my plate to the side and ignoring everything that wasn’t mac and cheese. If there’s one good universal constant it’s mac and cheese.
“Eve gave me chocolate chips!” Eevee seriously gives Tim two chocolate chips. I didn’t notice that she saved them. Those are gonna taste like potato chips. Tim thanks her and puts them to the side. Good, he has at least a few brain cells. That’s important for raising children. Particularly children who accept bribes and cheat at Uno. “Eve gave me potato chips too! Oh also Eve is drinking a lot of water.” Eevee winks at me. Right, children are awful liars. How do I always forget that? 

“Uh huh, yep. Water. That’s a thing I’ve been drinking because it isn’t remotely disgusting.” One of these days I’m going to get a tattoo so I can remember things. Like ‘never trust someone who smiles too much’ and ‘you’ve got to clean wounds before stitching them’ and ‘children are god awful liars.’
“Water isn’t disgusting,” Eevee says, sounding perplexed. Her voice is muffled cause it’s full of food. “It’s water. Brussel sprouts are disgusting.”
“You’re right about the brussel sprouts.” Eevee is staring at my hands. The kid knows about scars, I mean she has a few of her own. My hands aren’t pretty but they shouldn’t be enough to freak her out.
“Imma be right back!” Eevee bounces up and disappears. I haven’t looked around this place and I don’t plan to. I look up. Tim is staring at me. Wonderful. Now I’m alone with Mr ‘Eve needs to eat and drink water for some reason’.
“So, how’d you adopt Cute-Me?” I ask before he can comment on what I may or may not be eating or drinking.
“Her father died.”
“Oh, well that sucks.” Tim hums back affirmatively. I hope Jason isn’t dead. I don’t even want to think about that. “How old is she?”
“Thirteen.” Huh. Yeah that doesn’t make much sense but I don’t really care. Eevee’s Eevee. I just need Tim distracted so I don’t have to deal with lame conversations. It’s been forever since I’ve had to do small talk.
“She always been this obsessed with crows?” There are crows on absolutely everything. The blankets, the drawings on the walls, I think I’ve seen a few flying around, the kid said she can talk to them apparently, she has crow stickers stuck on everything including her face.
“You need to eat Eve.”
“Uh huh, I did.” I gesture vaguely at my plate. “Food consumed. You’re the only one who hasn’t eaten, actually.” Tim hums back. He does not seem impressed. 

“When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t a form of chips or a bar?”
“Two minutes ago.” I personally find myself quite humorous but Tim does not share that sentiment. “I dunno dude, I don’t exactly have a watch.”
“Would a watch work in other universes?”
“Sort of. Kind of? It’s a whole thing. Trust me, we don’t want to get started on how different universes function at different times. Actually, let’s talk about that, that’s a fun conversation topic.” It’s better than broccoli.
“Eve.”
“I found the things!” Eevee yells as she comes in again. She sits next to me and very seriously hands me gloves. “Cause your hands are cold. They’re shaky.”
“They’re your gloves, duck. I don’t want to take’em.”
“No, they’re not mine. My hand is little. Your hand is less little. See?” Eevee picks up my hand and puts it next to hers. Her hand is significantly smaller. “They’re Dad’s gloves, they’re ones he doesn’t use anymore. And now they’re for you.”
“You can have them.” I am not going to get out of taking the gloves.
“Thanks Eevee.” She beams.
“Here I can help you put them on! It’s hard to do with shaky hands.”
“It’s okay Eevee. I’ll put them on later.” By which I mean I’ll hide them somewhere for Tim to find after I’m gone. It’d just be awkward and embarrassing to try and get them on now. “Finish eating so I can prove to Tim that he’s raising a cheater.” Eevee giggles and sits back by Tim again.
“I’m done! I wanna play Uno now.” Eevee decimates us at Uno. Numerous times. I can’t figure out how she’s doing it.
“I wanna be on Eve’s team!”
“Are there teams in Uno?” Eevee looks at me, entirely focused.
“We get to make the rules. And I say the rules let me be on your team. Like you said the rules allowed bribery.”
“Are we talking about life rules or Uno rules?”
“Pretty sure they’re the same thing.”
“I’m fine with that.” Tim looks awkward. I think awkward is his default setting. Actually, it’s most Tims default setting. Childhood neglect and trauma will do that to a person. 

“Yeah come join my team duck.” Eevee comes and sits by me. “What does being on the same team mean duckie?”
“It means that we help each other! And that we super destroy Dad.” Well I’m in favor of that. Anyone who tries to make me eat vegetables deserves at least some minor destruction. “Oh also it means we can’t attack each other cause that’s rude.”
“Understood.” Tim gives out the cards. Me and Eevee show each other our cards and work together to annoy Tim. He clearly has a ridiculous amount of green cards, so we never let it get to green. Tim is drawing his twenty-first card when Eevee taps my arm three times.
“Sup kid?”
“Three taps means ‘I wanna give you a hug’ or it can mean ‘I don’t wanna give you a hug right now so here’s a replacement hug,’” Eevee explains. “Right now it means I want to give you a hug.” I mess with her hair, ruffling the gray streak to mix with the black.
“Sure, ya can give me a hug kid.” Eevee smiles and hugs me. “Do you wanna make Tim draw four more cards?”
“Oooohhh.” Eevee seriously debates it while she looks at her cards. “No I’m gonna wait. We’re running out of cards.”
“Tim’s hoarding them all. It’s so rude.” Tim smiles a bit. Which is fine but I would’ve preferred mild annoyance. I’m going to be gone soon, and I don’t want anyone getting all attached. That’s always a disaster.
“Dad if I win can I get a silly pass?” Eevee puts down a red four while she talks. She taps the red reverse in my hand and I put that down. “A silly pass is when you get to make someone else do something silly.”
“She’s going to win no matter what,” I remind Tim.
“She always does.”
“But can I get one anyway?”
“Whoever wins gets a silly pass,” Tim decides. Tim puts down a draw two. Eevee also puts one down and I follow suit. Tim sighs and draws six more cards. Uno is way more fun with Eevee on your side instead of against you. “What are you going to use it for?”
“I’m gonna get a million gummy worms.”
“So you’re the gummy worm kid,” I joke. Eevee puts down a yellow six. “What do I do now kid?”
“Do a wild and do green.”
“Green?”
“Yeah Dad’s gotta bunch of green but he’s gotta bunch of everything now.” That is true. I do the wild and make it green. Tim does a green three and Eevee does one of those greens where you can get rid of all that color you have.
“Nice job duckie.”
“Thanks cactus.”
“Cactus?”
“Yeah, cause you’re prickly. And you get stabbed a lot!”
“I didn’t mention my tendency to get stabbed.” At least I don’t think I did.
“You’ve got a whole buncha stabby scars. So now you’re a cactus.” It’s not the worst nickname I’ve had. “Cactus, play a red wild.”
“Got it duckie. What silly nickname does Tim have?”
“We call him Tim, or Dad, or Rook, and sometimes silly crow. Like silly goose, but a crow.”
“I say we call him Bob.” Tim looks at me. His head is tilted slightly to the side. They look particularly confused.
“Bob?” I shrug.
“Ya seem like a Bob.” Eevee tilts her head and looks at Tim. She looks just like him, it’s kind of adorable.
“Yeah, Dads got Bob vibes.”
“Well Bob it’s your turn.” Tim plays a swap hands card. Oh no . “I changed my mind, we’re skipping your turn.” Tim holds his deck of cards out to me. I groan. “Bob no.”
“Dad can I change teams?”
“Betrayal? Really duck?”
“It isn’t betrayal. It’s just tactics, an staying on your team is a bad tactical decision.”
“It’s up to the cactus.”
“Come up with your own ridiculous name,” I joke, “Eevee came up with cactus. And yeah sure kid you can swap teams.”
“Yay!” Eevee puts down her last card. I didn’t even realize she only had one card left. “I win!”
“Who is going to be the victim of the silly pass?” Tim asks, gathering the cards up. I look through the mammoth pile I inherited from Tims mistakes. “Me or the stabby one?”
“The stabby one? I haven’t stabbed anyone.” Tim looks at me. “Okay I haven’t stabbed anyone in this universe. Yet.”
“Stabby one. Like a cactus.”
“You’re real bad at nicknames Bob.”
“Eve’s gotta do what I want, cause me and you are on the same team now.” Eevee hands Tim her cards and I do the same. “And I decide you’ve gotta have three more blankets.”
“I’m pretty sure that isn’t allowed in the silly pass rules.” Also it’s rude.
“I’ve decided it is acceptable. Oh also you’ve got to drink water.”
“Did you put her up to this Bob?” Tim finishes putting the cards away.
“No one puts Eevee up to anything. She does what she decides to.” That seems pretty accurate. “And she generally decides to blow up the microwave.” I desperately want context. “Silly pass rules. No getting out of them.” I sigh and ruffle Eevee’s hair again.
“I’m keeping my eye on you duckie.” I grab another blanket though. These two are utterly ridiculous. “Tell me about the microwave explosions.”
“Or I could show you.”
“Eevee please don’t blow up another microwave.”
“Can Eve blow up the microwave?”
“No.” I wink at Eevee who giggles. Tim sighs, sounding truly deeply tired. Where do they even have a microwave? We're inside a tree. 

Chapter Text

I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin. It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since I got dumped on a sidewalk in Gotham. Almost two weeks since I met Tim, aka Bob, and Eevee. Two weeks of staying in a treehouse with a whole bunch of crows. Two weeks of waiting. I don’t want to wait anymore. I hate this. I hate this. I want to run. I mean, that’s what I do, that’s how this works. I don’t get to stay. I don’t get to ‘settle down’.

I exist somewhere for a week. At most. And sometimes that week sucks. Sometimes it’s a week of good old fashioned torture, and sometimes it’s a week where nothing happens but I’m alone the entire time which also sucks, and sometimes it’s a week of annoying people or beating up bad guys. Sometimes I bother to care and I go find some sort of hero or someone in charge and lay out all the things they need to do to keep people alive. I have no idea how that impacts the timeline and I don’t care. I only do it in worlds that really need it. Or I think really need it.

Sometimes the worlds are awful. They’re wastelands or run by awful people or someone evil is in charge of the entire planet and in exchange for Joker not causing chaos in other places he got total control of Gotham. That world might’ve been the worst one. Maybe. All of them suck. Even the ones that are good, that have decent people, suck because I have to leave again. I miss the first world I went to. I miss my world. I miss my Jason, and my Tim, and my Damian, and my family, and my Gotham. I miss the me who existed there. 

But I miss the first world too. The world where I still had hope for some stupid reason. The world where I still had hope because it hadn’t been beaten out of me yet. The world where I thought I got sent back to the past, rather than to another universe. Which, in hindsight, doesn’t make sense but I didn’t have any information. I miss when I didn’t have any information. I miss that world and that world’s Dick and that worlds Bruce and that worlds Alfred and I miss how easy it all was then. Sure, Jason was dead and my existence was a paradox, and that all sucked but I didn’t have to worry about the stability of it all.
And now I’m here. I’m staring at the ceiling of the blanket fort trying to decide what to do. I don’t know if I’m still cursed. I mean, I’d assume I am and the curse is just taking it’s sweet time ripping me away from this world. I don’t even know if I want to be cursed. The answer should be no. It’s a curse. Those are bad. But without it I’m entirely doomed. All the way doomed. I don’t stand a chance of ever getting back home. Sure the chances of me randomly landing in my universe are extremely small. But the chances of landing in a universe where someone knows how to get me back home, that’s different. I know I couldn’t figure it out myself, that’s not what I’m good at, but some people are. There’s got to be someone, multiple someone’s in the multiverse that could help. That might happen. Maybe.

I’ve been holding onto that maybe for a long time. I need that maybe. I need to believe, really believe, that someday eventually I’ll get to see them all again. Because I want to see them again. I miss them. I didn’t even get that long with them. Not without varying levels of chaos. I want to see my Dad again. I want to do stupid kid stuff again. I’m currently in a blanket fort but that’s beside the point. I poke a pillow. I want to go home. Or get out of here. Because this is going to hurt, when I leave.

I’m going to miss Eevee. Eevee who’s smart and ridiculous and silly and cute and kind and Eevee. Eevee who can talk to crows and has an imaginary friend she calls Mr. Giant Crow. Eevee who can be easily bribed with gummy worms. Eevee who blows up microwaves. Eevee who likes hugs and rides around on Tim’s shoulders all the time, directing him and telling them what to do. I’m going to miss Eevee so bad. And I’m going to miss Tim.

Tim, Tim is weird. He doesn’t blink correctly. I can’t figure out what’s wrong about it but something is deeply weird with how he blinks. And breathes. Sometimes it’s like he forgets that breathing is a thing he needs to do. Tim who is really genuinely funny and Tim who cares for some ridiculous reason. Tim who doesn’t care when Eevee and I steal his hoodies. The hoodies don’t fit Eevee, at all, and they still don’t care. Tim who likes really lame movies. Tim who calls me bug and cactus like those aren’t equally nonsensical names. Tim who willingly and happily tolerates Eevee’s nonsense and my nonsense like when we called him Bob and Dude for a whole day. Tim who regularly hands me a glass of water as if that isn’t weird. Tim who is in many ways ridiculous. A silly crow, like Eevee would say.

I’m gonna miss this. I’m going to miss them. I poke the pillow again. I never should’ve gone to the shrine. I should’ve kept walking, right past the barely a path path. I shouldn’t have gone inside the place at all. I should’ve walked and walked until I was so far away no one could ever reach me again. I should’ve ran. I should’ve ran and ran and ran until no one could ever catch me, touch me, again. I shouldn’t have stopped at crow dudes shrine. I shouldn’t have agreed to go with Tim and Eevee. I should’ve hit Tim in the head with the flashlight, that first day, and ran. Maybe he wouldn’t have cared then. They might’ve left me alone, if I hit them in the head with the good old stick of light. 

But he didn’t. And now I’m here. And now I’m confused. And stuck. And I want to go home. And I don’t want to leave here. And everything is hard. I don’t want to leave. But I have to. No matter what. I sit up. I have to leave no matter what. So I’m going to choose how I leave. And I’m going to say goodbye. And I’m going to choose when I leave, this time, even though I’ve never gotten to choose before. I get out of the blanket fort, trying not to get tangled in the blankets. I really don’t feel like getting a lecture or something if I fall and mess up my already bruised ribs. I get out of the blanket fort without any new injuries. I find Tim. He doesn’t notice me. I walk in place loudly. Nothing. I throw a random stuffed animal at his arm. He flinches back before he looks at me.
“I’m going to disappear any minute.” Tim looks confused. “I’m going to get yanked out of this universe and it’s going to suck so we’re saying goodbyes now.”
“Eevee is asleep.”
“Nuh uh, I’m just bein’ sneaky,” Eevee says as she appears out of nowhere . I resist the urge to jump back or throw something at her. Throwing things at small children is not a great idea. “You can’t go, I don’t want you to.”
“I’ve got to go no matter what. And I don’t want to just disappear without saying goodbye.”
“So we’re gonna say goodbye but you’re still going to stay?” I don’t answer. Eevee comes closer to tap my hand three times. I kneel down to hug her. I keep my eyes shut. “You’re not supposed to go.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing about curses duckie. They don’t really care about what’s supposed to happen.”
“If I don’t say goodbye will you stay?”
“I can’t stay. Not really in charge of that.”
“Well then will you stay until you can’t?” Yeah. I will. Because I can’t, I can’t just leave without a goodbye. I can’t make myself. “Then I just won’t say goodbye. So you have to stay.” I pull away from Eevee and look at her. “You’ve gotta stay.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“But you don’t have to. Dad can fix it.”
“Tim can’t fix everything.”
“He can fix this.” Eevee pulls away to talk to Tim. “You can fix it right?”
“I need to talk to Eve. Can you go to bed?”
“I wanna talk to Eve too.” I sit all the way on the ground. I need to be talking. I need to be convincing Eevee. And Tim. But I’m just so tired. I don’t want to leave. But I can’t stay. And this is hard. I just want it to be easy, just once, to leave.
“I need to talk to bug alone Eevee.”
“Kay. But you have to promise its gonna come back.”
“I promise I will do my best. Bed Eevee.” Eevee comes back to me. She looks at me seriously.
“You can’t go without saying bye.” I can’t control that. I don’t get to control that. I can’t answer. Eevee leaves. Tim offers to help me up. I ignore his hand. I stand up on my own.
“I’m leaving on my terms.”
“Come with me. Please.”
“Fine.” 

“Why are we here.”
“It will be easier to explain.”
“You’re real cryptid Bob. We goin’ to the crow guy statue?”
“Yes.” 

“Wonderous.” The path looks the same as it did two weeks ago.
“Why did you choose to come here? The first time.”
“It was new. I didn’t have anywhere else to be.” Tim hums softly in return. We turn off the main path and walk up the hill to the crow dude statue. Theres more gummy worms. My bars are still there. “We’re here. Say whatever you want to say.”
“You do not have to leave.”

“Do you people not understand how curses work?” I want to sound angry. I really really want to sound angry. But I don’t. It’s cold, and I would be cold but Tim made sure I had a stupid amount of coats, his coats, before I left and I have their gloves and this is so much better than two weeks ago and I have to leave. And their denial isn’t helping matters.
“Eevee was right. I can help.”
“You know magic now Bob? Because, as I’ve said before, your magic won’t do anything to my curse. Apparently the rules of my universe say that the magic has to originate from my home universe to impact any curses put on me there. My original one. So whatever you can do isn’t going to help.” 

“That is how it works for mortals.” I wish they’d get to the point. “Did you ever read the plague?”
“On crow guys statue?”
“Yes.”
“No. I didn’t. My eyes are the worst on good days and that wasn’t a great day.” Tim waits. I walk forward and brush snow off the plague thing on the shrine. 

Rook. Deity of Corvids. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.”
“Eve-”
“No.” I scoff, half laughing. “No, it was pretty obvious. Eevee calls you Rook, sometimes. You call her little crow and you live in a tree . A tree that constantly has crows everywhere. You two knew I was going to be here, even though this place is ridiculously out of the way. It was obvious. So yeah Rook. I’m stupid. I’m real fucking stupid.”
“You are not stupid.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me.” Tim, Rook, Bob, whatever, they shift their weight to the side. He looks uncomfortable. He should. “I should’ve known. Especially if you can, can do god stuff. Or whatever it is that deities do. You’re the reason I’m still here, right? The reason I haven’t disappeared. The reason I’m still in this universe.”
“I am.”
“Why didn’t you just send me home?” I’m crying and it’s weak and it’s pathetic. “You could’ve sent me home, right? You could’ve just, you could’ve just sent me home.” I probably shouldn’t be annoying a deity or god or whatever Rook is but I don’t care. I don’t think they could do anything worse than my current curse.
“I can’t do that. I tethered you to this world. I don’t know if I can do more than that.” Oh. “I’m sorry. That I didn’t tell you before. I didn’t…I was not sure what to do.”
“What you should’ve done was tell me.”
“You were not okay. I didn’t want to put too much on you at once.”
“Rook I’ve been having too much shoved on me since I can remember. I’m pretty good at handling it. I didn’t have any sort of parent, that I remember, until Jason. I didn’t even get three years with him before this nonsense happened. I have been going to world, after world, after world because some moron decided to curse a fourteen year old. I turned fifteen, ten days after the stupid curse, in another universe. I have dealt with ridiculous amounts of stupid stuff. You being the crow god or whatever isn’t the weirdest thing that’s happened in the last month. But I deserved to know. It wasn’t fair that you didn’t tell me. It wasn’t fair that you, you didn’t ask if I wanted to be ‘tethered’ to this world. It wasn’t fair that I had to spend two weeks worrying about you and about Eevee and about what I was going to do when I had to leave. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t get to know.”
“You’re right. It isn’t. I’m sorry bug.”
“You should be.” I huff and sit down with my back to Rook's shrine. “I want answers.”
“Okay.” He sits down a couple of feet to my side.
“Why do you look like Tim Drake? Does he even exist here?”
“Eevee…That is a long story.”
“Well, we’ve got time. You’ve got crows watchin’ Eevee, right?” He nods. “Well then get talking Bob.”
“Eevee left gummy worms at my shrine. She was the first person to remember me in…in a long time. She was with her father. The Tim of this world. I followed her, for a while.”
“That isn’t creepy at all. How did her Tim not notice you?”
“I was a crow.” Kay well that’s awesome but I’m mad at them so I’ll ask about it later. “My goal was not to be creepy. I simply wanted to be sure she was alright. And she was. For a time.”
“Then her dad died.”
“Then Tim died,” Rook agrees. “He died protecting Eevee. From Ra’s.”
“The guy can’t chill in any universe. There’s no point in being awful to her, she isn’t useful to him.” Which is definitely a good thing.
“There was not a point in being awful to you either.”
“Wrong but that’s a conversation we can save for later whenever my questions are answered and I’m done being mad. Continue with the depressing story.”
“I got Eevee away from Ras.” Not sure if the guy is dead or not but if he isn’t I’ll happily go kill the fucker. “She was not okay. I tried to help. Nothing I did worked.”
“Until ya looked like her recently murdered dad?”
“Yes.”
“How long ago was all that?”
“A year or so.” 

“And Eevee knows about the whole Rook thing.” It is not a question. “How do you work? How come you can keep me here but you can’t send me home?”
“Different things require different power. Tethering you here is far easier than guiding you to another universe.”
“But you might be able to? One day?”
“Maybe.” That isn’t the answer I wanted.

“You should’ve told me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ve got another question.”
“Okay.”
“Why did you bother? Was it just cause I’m a version of Eevee? Was it pity?” I gesture at the bars I left on the shrine. “I’m pretty sure a bar and a half aren’t enough to cover the costs of keeping me here and dealing with me.”
“You were hurting.”
“What, you can feel other people's emotions too?”
“You chose to stay outside and risked freezing to death rather than try and get help from this universe.”
“Yeah cause people suck.”
“You were hurting. And you were a child. Are a child.” Fifteen isn’t a child but fine. “You did not deserve to be alone any longer. You did not deserve to be alone at all.”
“You didn’t deserve to be forgotten. Even if you do suck at telling people important information.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Ya can ask, I might not answer.”
“Who cursed you?” I feel like my chest will collapse every time I think about it.
“Do you want the truth or the version I tell to people I won’t see ever again?”
“The second one.”
“I was fighting Joker and he used an enchanted item to curse me. It was an epic fight and I totally would’ve won if I didn’t get cursed.”
“The truth.”
“I was patrolling with Damian. We were being stupid. We just wanted to get done so we could finish what we were doing. I think it was some sort of video game or something. He was obsessed with it and it was interesting. We were rushing when this moron of a man decided to rob a bank. At night. He didn’t even bother doing it during the day, like a smart villain.” I shrug. “We didn’t take him seriously. Why would we? He was wearing a cut up tarp for a cape and he wore a white ski mask. It was a waste of time and we had stuff to do. I called him something stupid. I don’t really remember what. Probably something along the lines of a trash man knock off. He had a gun. I thought he was a normal person. So did Damian. He wasn’t.” 

My entire life got ruined by one moron who didn’t appreciate my joke.
“He got mad. Real mad. He did the whole magic thing and whoosh,” I mutter, gesturely loosely with one hand, “gone. Everything was gone. I got dumped in another universe except I thought I just went back in time. That was kind of a whole thing.”
“I’m sorry bug.”
“It was my own fault. Literally.”
“You were a bit rude. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I was arrogant and cocky.”
“You were fourteen.”
“Almost fifteen.”
“That is not better.” I don’t feel like arguing about this.
“You’re sure I’m not going to disappear? Fall through again?”
“Yes. I am.”
“Okay, well, what if I make you mad? What if I make you real mad, which I am quite capable of doing, and you decide you don’t want to deal with me anymore?”
“That will never happen.”
“What if you get forgotten again? Or you die or something? Then am I going to get thrown back into it? And what happens to Eevee if something happens to you? I can’t take people through with me. That isn’t how it works. And even if it was I wouldn’t, she’s a kid, it wouldn’t be safe.”
“Eve.” I don’t want to look at him. They’re going to be making one of those faces. “As long as you or Eevee are here I will not be forgotten. I can not be killed. It does not matter what you do, I will not abandon you to that again. And Eevee is not your job. She is not yours to take care of.”
“Why was a pack of gummy worms enough to make you care? Generally, gods in stories kinda suck.” Though that might just be the stories I’m reading. “They don’t go around takin’ care of kids who give them bars and gummies.”
“You are my patrons. You are children. You both needed someone.”
“And that’s enough?”
“Yes. It is.”
“You’re real weird Bob.” I groan, rubbing my left temple. “I’ve been calling an apparently immortal god person Bob for two weeks.” Tim smiles.
“Yes. You have.”
“How come you can’t stop Eevee from blowing up the microwave but you can tether me to this universe or whatever?” Tim sigh is the only answer I get. It’s a pretty funny answer. “If I asked you to curse someone would you?”
“I do not think you grasp how this works.”
“Yeah yeah, ya gotta charge like a phone or whatever. How many bars is it gonna take for you to curse people who annoy me?” I smirk. “Bars? Get it? Cause a phone needs bars?” I don’t think they get the joke. Which is fine cause I know I’m funny.
“Are you still angry?”
“Not really. Do I call you Rook or Tim?”
“Either is fine.” Then I’m calling him Tim.
“Is Bob also fine?”
“Sure.” Nice. “Why do you enjoy calling me Bob?”
“Cause it’s fun.” Tim hums in response. “Do you, like, understand how humans work?”
“I believe so.”
“Do you know what broken bones are?”
“Yes.” The 'obviously' is implied.
“How do you tell when a bone is broken?”
“It will be bent incorrectly. That is what I have seen, at least.” So the guy doesn’t understand broken ribs. That’s rather helpful. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. It’s, like, really cold can we go back home now? Any other important things you need to tell me?”
“No. I do not think so.” Well, that’s good. “And yes. We can go home now.” He stands up first and offers me his hand. I take it. Tim starts to walk down the path. I quickly take the little flashlight off the bracelet on my wrist. I leave it there, on the shrine, right next to the bars. I go chase after Tim. “Wait up, humans can’t run that fast Bob.”
“I have seen Eevee when she did not want to sleep. I am more than aware how quickly humans can run.” 

Chapter Text

“Hey, how do I get out of here?” Tim is doing the head tilt of confusion. He looks like a bird. How did I not realize they were a corvid god sooner? “We’re in a pocket dimension. How do I get out of the pocket dimension?”
“Why do you need to get out?”
“Cause I need to buy stuff.” Tim is still befuddled. “Bob, humans happen to need lots of stuff. Like clean socks. Do you know how long it’s been since I had clean socks? About twenty years.”
“You are fifteen.”
“I was exaggerating.”
“Yeah an my clothes don’t fit her cause its big and tall and stuff,” Eevee chimes in from where she’s comfortably curled up on the ground. She’s playing Uno against a crow. “So they gotta go get more clothes.”
“...but you have clothes.”
“Yeah these are gross,” I answer. “And if I never have to wear jeans again that would be fantastic . Jeans are an awful style of pants that feel horrible and I’ve been stuck wearing them for numerous months.” That’s what I get for not dressing comfortably twenty four seven. “Also I just want to go buy stuff.”
“I wanna go!” I shrug. I’m fine with Eevee coming.
“I have normal people money and whatever. I’m just not sure how to get out of here. I don’t want to walk too far and get vaporized or something.”
“That would not happen.”
“Well good. I don’t want to be vaporized. Now come on Bob, I want to go get stuff.”
“Can we get chocolate?” Eevee asks.
“Yeah why not.” I’ll probably steal that, for the fun of it.

“But Eve stealin’ is illegal.”
“Eevee, in my world I was a child superhero. I did that in quite a few worlds actually. That was child labor and also illegal but mainly cause I didn't get paid. Therefore I get to steal whatever I want because I already paid for it with blood. It’s just making up for lost wages.”
“Hmmm…kay that makes sense!” And the Bruce in my world said I was a bad influence on children. “So I get to steal shiny stuff?”
“Yeah sure just don’t get caught.” Tim has a very firm grasp on Eevee’s hand. She already tried to run off a few times. Not intentionally or anything but she gets distracted easy.
“What happens if you get caught stealing something?” I shrug at Tim.
“I kick them in the face. Or you zap them.”
“I do not zap people.”
“Can you throw a car at them?”
“Maybe.”
“Then we do that. Come on, this way.” Walmart. Walmart is great. And I haven’t even gotten kicked out of this one.
“What are we getting first?” Eevee asks, swinging her and Tims arm. “I wanna get chocolate.”
“We are here to get Eve clothes. Because it needs those.”
“Yeah cause if I’m staying here I refuse to live in jeans and hoodies anymore.” I dunno where clothes are. “Eevee, you see where it says clothes?”
“No. Reading is the worst.” Oh wonderful, another lame universal constant, both of our eyes don’t work.
“I see it. This way.” At least Tim can read. One out of three isn’t bad. “Do all humans have bad eye sight?”
“Nope. We’re just cursed.” Tims face slides into worry faster than I’ve ever seen. “The universe is just rude,” I explain.
“Ah.” Walmarts lights are bright and loud and I do not like them. “This way.” I follow Tim and Eevee. It’s weird existing around so many people. I forgot how many people generally exist, in worlds where the apocalypse or whatever isn’t going on. It’s louder than I remembered. I walk into Tim whenever he stops.
“Sorry.”
“You are alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just got distracted.” Clothes. Ugh clothes shopping is the worst. What are you supposed to own?
“Should we getta cart?” Eevee asks.
“Yeah that’s probably a good idea. You two go and I’ll wait here.” 

Tim, surprisingly, accepts that and goes back to the front of the store to get a cart while Eevee chatters about something or other. I walk a few feet forward and to the side, so I can get to the hoodies. I’m pretty sure I was a medium before the whole universe cursed thing. And now I’m a small, I think? Maybe? I have a pretty good amount of money, around thirty thousand dollars, from that one world with a nice Batman. I could just get both. But then I’d have five hoodies and that feels like a lot of red hoodies. I look at the red hoodie I’m wearing now. It’s a medium and it’s too big. I sigh and grab a small. I look up and see Tim and Eevee. Eevee points at me from and waves. I walk back over.
“You disappeared.” Tim sounds worried.
“I was right there.” I point to where I was. “I thought you could see me.” Tim picks up Eevee and puts her in the basket of the cart before grabbing my hand.
“I’m not two, I can walk by myself.”
“Eevee holds my hand and she is not two.”
“Yeah I’m super old.”
“Well I’m older and I want both my hands.”
“No.” Last month I was being cool and stabbing people and now I am being forced to hold hands with a god cause they didn’t see me four feet away.
“I wanna get a hoodie to match Eve!” Tim walks to where the hoodies are and I follow since I have to because apparently crow deities are really good at holding onto people.
“I have literally murdered people. I do not need you to hold my hand in Walmart.”
“Murdering people is not hard.”
“Well yeah maybe for you . But most humans haven’t murdered anyone. Not even a single person. And almost no kids murder people, it’s frowned upon.”
“So you admit you’re a child.” How did he get that out of my informative and helpful sentence?
“I meant legally. I am a minor. Legally a child. But I am essentially not a child.” Tim hums back. He does that a lot. It isn’t helpful.
“And now Eve and I can match,” Eevee says seriously as she hugs her new hoodie. “Then you won’t be able to tell us apart! That’ll be funny.” I sure hope he can tell us apart…I mean, can they? We’re different heights and everything but we have the same face. Her hair is longer. 
“What else do you need to get?”
“My freedom.”
“You are not trapped.”
“Can I leave freely?”
“No. But that is so you don’t get hurt.”
“I’m trapped and want my freedom.”
“What clothes do you need?”
“Shirts and pants and all sorts of stuff that I can not get to while you hold onto my hand.” Tim debates this.
“Alright. But you have to stay close.”
“Thanks Dude.” Eevee smiles.
“Yeah, thanks Dude.” Tim sighs softly. They both follow close behind me while I look for stuff. I throw semi random things in the cart. Sweatpants are fantastic. I missed wearing nonsense clothes. Clothes that don’t have a point. Like pajamas. What even is the point of pajamas?
“I’m done.”
“Do you need new shoes?” I was hoping he wouldn’t comment on that.
“I don’t want new shoes.”
“Those shoes are pretty dead dude,” Eevee sadly informs me. “You need new ones or you’re gonna be cold.”
“I like my shoes. And I’m keeping them.” I, somehow, have managed to keep these shoes through every single universe. Dad got them for me. I’m keeping them.
“You should get more shoes,” Tim says seriously. “Come on bug.”
“For a crow god person you’re overly concerned about mortals and shoes.” Tim hums, which is not an answer, and looks around the store.
“Where are the shoes?”
“They’re in the back,” I answer. “Like the back of the store.”
“You have not been here before.”
“Nope. But it’s a Walmart thing.”
“In every universe?”
“Yup. At least that I’ve seen. And I’ve seen a lot of’em.”
“Can we go super duper fast dude?” Eevee asks Tim. Tim grabs my hand and starts to walk.
“We do not want to run anyone over,” Tim answers calmly, as if he isn’t being incredibly rude.
“I want my hand back.”
“I do not want you to get lost.”

“I won’t get lost, I’ll be careful.” I don’t like it. I don’t want them to hold my hand. I just wanted to get clothes and go. And chocolate for the duck. I don’t need them to be all annoying and over protective.
“If you hold onto the cart I won’t hold your hand.” That’s better than nothing.
“Fine dude.” Eevee giggles again.
“It called you dude.”
“I am aware.” We get to the back where the shoes are. “What type of shoes do you need?”
“I don’t know.”
“I wanna help.” Tim looks at Eevee. He is clearly debating whether having Eevee out of the cart will be controllable chaos. It won’t be. “Pretty please with shiny stuffs on top?” Tim gets her out the cart. They keep a firm grip on her hand. I stare blankly at the shoes. I don’t want any of them. I want to go home. Or not here. Not here sounds preferable. 

“Why are there so many types?”
“I dunno, I think it’s cause people like havin’ a lot of shoes. Those ones are warm, I think, and those are for gardening stuff!” Tim’s busy with Eevee. I look at the open aisle behind me. I look at Tim. He’s busy and I’m going to go do what I want. I walk out the aisle and turn right. I walk past all the shoes. There’s a lot of shoes. Now there are vacuums. I avoid touching people and go to stare at the vacuums. They’re weird. I like the circle ones. The ones that move on their own. They’re cute.

The next aisle is food stuff. I go to the cold stuff. Refrigeration is still weird. And cold. I pull my arms closer, crossing them in front of my chest. There’s frozen cookies. They have crows and pumpkins on them. Is it Halloween? I thought it was January. I pick up a box and stare at it. Yep. Halloween. Cool. I grab a box. It makes my hands even colder but I want to show Eevee them. I don’t know if they have an oven. They live in a tree. Also Tim’s a god, I feel like we can figure it out. I don’t know if corvids can heat up cookies but he can probably do something. 

I keep walking, left hand shaking from the cold of the box. This aisle is also dull. It’s just bags of chips. If I never eat potato chips again it’s going to be too soon. I burned all the food I had saved up a few days ago. I made a joke about the mold, then I had to explain mold to Tim, and that was a thing. He got all freaked out that apparently humans eating mold can kill them or whatever. I guess the guy didn’t understand expiration dates. I wanted to get rid of it all anyway. I don’t really need it anymore, I guess. 

The next aisle has soda. Which is gross and sugary and Eevee would probably like it. The one after that has cereal. I don’t walk down it. This one has baking stuff. It’s been a long time since I baked. Or cooked. I wasn’t ever any good at it, but it was fun. I tap a bag of brown sugar. It smushes down. I wrinkle my nose in a smile. Weird texture. There’s a bunch of extracts further down. Almond and orange and vanilla. A lot more. Cocoa powder. Flour. White sugar. There’s just stuff, absolutely everywhere. 

Candy coates this stretch of the store. I pocket some chocoate for Eevee. It has marshmallows in it, that feels like a thing she would like. I’m not sure what gummy worms to get. I don’t remember which one she likes the most. I grab some of the normal ones. I keep going. I don’t want to walk through the food stuff anymore. I turn and go across the store. There’s nothing interesting between the food section and the other side of the store. Just boring stuff. I walk along the wall, past cleaning supplies, running my hand along it. I pause when I feel a new texture. Glass, not the wall. I pull it back and stare at the glass.

Fish tanks. Why does Walmart even sell fish? This section of wall, maybe five feet wide and sevenish tall, is all tanks. I sit down on the ground, putting down the box of cookies. I stare at the fish. One of them keeps ramming its head into the front of its tank. It’s a red fish. I’ve got no idea what it’s called. It keeps bonking its head against the glass.
“Your name,” I decide quietly, “is Soteria. Pretty cool name, huh?” The fish continues to bonk it’s head into the wall. There’s a bunch of fish but she’s my favorite. 

I should probably find Tim. And Eevee. I like Eevee and I normally like Tim, whenever he isn’t being annoying and telling me what to do. I probably won’t get to go to a store again anytime soon. I should get up and find whatever I might need before then. Before the dorks find me. I need band aids. And probably actual bandages. More stuff to stitch up wounds. My ribs still hurt but I think they’re getting better. And Rook hasn’t been annoying about them, cause he doesn’t know they’re hurt. 

I can’t think of anything I really need. Not something worth getting up over. Tim has food. Water. Blankets. Shelter. And now I have clothes. You only really need two of those to stay alive. And coffee. I miss coffee. I wonder if this world has coffee. That’s something I should go figure out, but I don’t want to move. Soteria is ramming her head into the glass, still. She’s gonna get hurt. You’re not supposed to do that. I’ve got to go find the others. I got all the stuff. I need. For the most part. I stand up slowly, box of cookies in my hand. I promptly get hit with a cart.
“ Dad don’t hit cactus.” I don’t quite fall over but I almost did. Tim rushes over. He looks immensely panicked.
“You disappeared.” Yep I did do that. They’re kneeling down and checking to make sure I’m not hurt. I huff.
“I’m fine. I just wanted to go look at stuff.” I don’t want to look at them. They’re all worried and I don’t like it. “I can walk around a store by myself.”
“I did not know where you were.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“Why did you leave.” At least he isn’t mad. I probably shouldn’t have tried to intentionally annoy the deity I’m a patron of. Or any gods at all. Kind of a stupid thing to do. I shrug again. He’s weird. I don’t know how to figure out what emotions he’s feeling cause he’s confusing and it’s the worst. “Can you please hold my hand until we get out of the store.” I think I could say no. I mean maybe. I don’t know.
“I’ll hold onto the cart.” They wait for a second before they nod. Tim carefully taps my arm three times. I want shove them away and start walking. But he’s all worried and I don’t like it and I want it to stop. I’m pretty sure the fastest way to get him to stop is to just hug them. Or let them hug me. 

“ Please . Do not do that again.”
“Okay.” I pull away to hand Eevee the box of cookies. She takes them. She looks at me. “They’ve got crows. And stuff,” I finish lamely. We walk to the front of the store. Nobody talks. Whenever we get to the cashier person they could not care less. Probably a good thing. I grab a few hundred dollars bills out of my backpack before they can ask Tim how they’re going to pay. We leave. 

“Am I in trouble?”
“No. You are not.” Eevee’s playing in her room. I want Tim to get it over with. “I do not understand why you left.” 

“I can handle things by myself.” I pull at the string part of my new hoodie.
“I am aware. That does not mean you should.” 

“I’m not Eevee.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” I mutter. “I don’t need the same stuff she does.” I don’t need any stuff.
“It is my understanding that all people need food and water and basic safety.”
“Yeah I need the food and water stuff. But I can handle the safety thing by myself.”
“But you do not need to.”
“I want to. Eevee isn’t, like, a normal kid. And I’m barely a kid. I don’t want you to make me hold your hand and whatever.” Tim hums back.
“Okay. What is your alternative so I can be sure you are safe?”
“You don’t need an alternative or whatever, I can handle it by myself.”
“But you do not need to.” Deities are annoying and repetitive.
“I dunno. I won’t wander off again.”

“Okay.” That’s it?
“And I’m not in trouble?”
“Do you want to be?”
“No.” I just don’t get it. “How do you know I won’t run away again?”
“You said you wouldn’t.”
“You’re a really weird adult.”
“I am not an adult.”
“You’re a really weird crow deity.”
“Thank you.” I’m going to hide in the blanket fort until this is all over. I shove my hands into my pockets, to hide how shaky they are, and I touch the chocolate bar I took earlier. I walk the few steps to where Tim is and hand it to him.
“Eevee said she wanted it earlier.”
“You can give it to her. If you want.” I shrug and go to find Eevee. I sit on the ground by her. She’s playing with blocks. I tap her shoulder three times. She presses the side of her head against my arm. I hug her.
“You disappeared.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not going to again.”
“Okay. That’s good.” Eevee pulls away to mess with her blocks. “I ran away.”
“Oh.” She did?
“Dad died. And Rook got me away. And I ran.” Eevee is staring blankly at the block she’s holding before she shrugs. “Awhile ago. But I don’t want you to run away. I don’t want you to go.”
“Me either.”
“Then why did you?”
“I don’t like it when people tell me what to do.” I offer Eevee the chocolate bar. “You said you wanted chocolate. I got gummy worms too, I forgot those in my other hoodie.” Eevee smiles a bit.
“I wanted to get chocolate cause you said you like it an stuff.” Oh.
“Can I give you a hug?”
“Kay, that is acceptable cactus.” I hug Eevee really really tight.
“I promise I won’t do the running away thing again.”
“That’s good.” Eevee holds up a block. “Wanna play with these?”
“Sure duckie.” I bonk my elbow against hers. “Like your hoodie.” She smiles.
“Thanks cactus dude.”

Chapter Text

“Are you okay?” I walk past Tim to grab food.

“Since when do we have poptarts?” The box isn’t open yet. I could try to open it or I could get Tim to do it. I turn around to ask him but he’s standing right in front of me. “Can you-” They awkwardly pat my forehead. “What are you doing?”
“Are you on fire?”
“What? No, I'm not on fire.” It’d be pretty clear if I was on fire. I’d probably be yelling ‘I’m on fire’ or ‘oh no’ or ‘ah reminds me of home.’
“Then what is wrong?”
“Nothing.” Tim doesn’t move. “I just want to eat.” I hold up the box of poptarts.
“...okay.”
“Can you open this for me?” They do. I take a packet out.
“I’m going now. Bye.” Rook is real weird. I go sit by the blanket fort and eat a poptart. It’s strawberry. That’s pretty good. This book is not pretty good. It’s boring. Predictable. Or I’ve just read it before and forgot. I yawn, rubbing the left side of my face. I shut the book and put it down. The cover is sort of interesting. It’d be fun to draw covers for books. I look up and jerk backwards. I almost hit my head. Tim is staring at me. They’re less than a foot away. “You are so creepy.” I should’ve heard them. I need to pay more attention.
“You ate. You are still not fine.”
“I’m fine.”
“Your face is not fine.”
“Well that’s rude.” My face looks fine. I pick up my book again.
“You look tired.”
“What does tired look like?”
“The skin underneath your eyes is dark. Your hands are shakier than usual. You keep walking into things. You are yawning.”
“I haven’t yawned.”
“You have. And you almost yawned. Numerous times.”
“Well you’re wrong. I’m not tired. It isn’t your job to make sure I’m fine anyway. So goodbye.”
“Yes. It is my job to ensure that you are healthy. That is how this works.”
“I’m good so we’re good. Go check on Eevee.” Tim narrows his eyes.
“You look tired.”
“No. I’m the opposite of tired. I’m,” what’s a good believable lie, “I’m too rested. I slept too much so now I feel weird.”
“I do not believe that is a thing.”
“Do you know what telmeo is?”
“No.”
“Well clearly you don’t everything about humans then. It’s a thing.” It isn’t but they don’t need to know that.
“How do you fix it?”
“I’m gonna fix it, and you’re gonna go do whatever corvid gods do.” I pause. “What do deities do?”
“A variety of things.”
“How specific.”
“One of the most important things is ensuring that our patrons or priests are alright.”
“I left like a bar and a half at your shrine, I don’t think I count.”
“And a flashlight.”
“Yeah yeah.”

“And drawings. And poptarts. And gummy worms.”
“Eevee told me to leave the gummy worms.”
“I decide it counts.”
“And I decide I’ll tell you if I need help.” Tim seems to accept that answer. “Eevee should’ve been awake awhile ago, she’s probably doing something chaotic.” 

Tim pauses. He looks at my face for a few seconds. I attempt to look as not exhausted as possible. They go to find Eevee. Mission accomplished. Once Tim disappears I grab my backpack. I was using it as a pillow before but now I actually need to use it for its intended purpose. Which is holding stuff. I pull it open and open the secret zipper part. I grab some of the old case files. It doesn’t really matter if I solve them, I can’t go back to the universes where they happened. But it’s something to do. I need something to do. Eevee skips in holding Tim’s hand.
“Mornin’ cactus!”
“Good morning duckie.” Eevee lets go of Tim’s hand to come tap my arm three times. I give her a hug and boop her nose. “Go eat stuff duck.”
“Okey dokey Eve-a-chokey.” 

I still have no idea if that’s a universe saying or a ‘Eevees weird’ saying. They both go. Tim has to make sure the microwave stays intact. This case file is boring, just an old string of robberies. I’d get out one of the cooler ones but I don’t like the idea of Eevee seeing anymore dead bodies. This stuff is so run of the mill. Eevee hops over next to me and sits down, poptart in hand.
“What are you doing?” 

“Looking at old files of stuff.” 

“That’s boring.” I smile and boop her nose. She smiles. “You’re silly.”
“Yup.” 

“That’s still boring.”
“You can do something else duckie.”
“Dad, can you color with me?”
“Sure little crow.” They sit down close by and start coloring. “No, Dad, you gotta draw the same thing as me. It’s the rules.”
“What are ya drawing?” I ask, leaning over to see. Eevee hides it.
“You can’t see yet, also the rules.”
“Got it small child.” Eevee directs Tim on what to do. For an immortal deity Tim is apparently bad at drawing stuff. Or Eevee just has high standards.
“You gotta use this green, not that one.”
“They are both green.”
“Yes but they’re different.” Eevee pushes her hair out of her face. She huffs softly. “Now we gotta use blue.” Eevee hands Tim a blue.
“Nah, I’m pretty sure that’s purple,” I correct Eevee. Eevee looks at me.
“Cactus no, it’s a blue. This is purple,” Eevee holds up a purple crayon, “and that is blue,” She finishes, pointing at the crayon in Tims hand.
“Nah, that’s blue and that’s purple.” Eevee tilts her head at me. “I’m just kiddin’ duckie.”
“Oh.” Eevee wrinkles her nose as she smiles. I guess all Eves do that. “That is funny.”
“I know, I’m rather hilarious.” Eevee keeps drawing. She pushes her hair out of her face again. I need to find a hair tie for the kid. I grab my backpack again and hunt through it. I don’t have any. I have a scrunchie but there’s blood on it which is kinda unsanitary.
“-an now yellow.”
“Tim you got a hairtie?” Tim tilts his head. The guy looks like a bird. “The thingy.” I gesture vaguely. “Ya tie your hair back with so it isn’t in your face.” Tim pulls one off their wrist and offers it to me. “Thanks Bob. Come here Eevee, let me get your hair out of your face.”
“Can you braid it?” I look at my currently shaking hands. I wince.
“What if Bob braids it?”
“I do not know what you’re talking about.”
“Well then come over here an I’ll show you how to braid the kids hair.” I grab a fidget toy out of my backpack and hand it to Eevee. “How long do you think it’ll take to teach Bob here?”
“Hmm…twenty years.”
“Yeah that sounds about right.” I pull Eevee’s hair back into a ponytail. We can braid it from that, I don’t know how to french braid. I move so Tim can sit behind Eevee. “Split her hair into three sections.” He does but the left section is way bigger than the other two. “Three equal sections, shoulda specified that.” They split it correctly. I stare at the pieces. “Ugh this is hard to explain.” 

It’s been awhile since I braided someone’s hair. A lot of universes. Eevee’s hair looks like hers. Of course it does, we’re all the same person. Her grey was more prominent than Eevee’s though. Almost half of their hair was grey. They were really happy to have their hair braided. Said it had been awhile. I believed her. Tim taps my knee once. I look up. Right. I’m in this universe, explaining to this Tim how to braid this Eve’s hair. Tim’s still waiting patiently.

“You want to move this piece,” I tap what I think is the right piece, “into the middle. Pull it over the center piece then pull the center one away. Like to the side with the first piece.”
“To the right?”
“Yeah sure.”
“What do I do now?”
“Now you move the left piece to the center.” He does it. “You just keep doing that till you get to the end.”
“That is it?”
“Yup.”
“That did not take twenty years.”
“Humans like to exaggerate and complain, it’s what we do.” Tim hums. He braids and I pick up the case file. Eevee starts to talk about different types of ducks. Tim follows along, adding in whenever appropriate.
“An that’s why Drake is a dumb name for a duck. It should be a name for a type of crow.” 

“This thing is going to make my head explode.” Tims head shoots up in panic. “I was kidding.” They exhale slowly in relief. “They do hurt my head though.”
“How do I finish the braid?”
“I’ll tie it for you. You got another hair tie Bob?” He hands me another. I look at their arm. They have a ton of hairties. Good to know. I put my book down and finish off Eevee’s hair. Eevee shakes her head from side to side beaming. “You look adorable duckie.”
“I always look adorable.”
“You look extra adorable,” I clarify. I reach back for my file but Tim has it. “I was reading that.”
“No.”
“Just cause I’m your pa-something-”
“Patron or priest.”
“Well that doesn’t mean you can’t let me read. That’s a big step in the direction of tyranny, Bob.”
“You said it hurts.”
“I just have a headache.” Tim hums and doesn’t give my file back. He just flips through it.
“How is it harming you?”
“You do not understand how humans work.”
“I understand some things.”
“My eyes just hurt from reading it, they’ll be fine later.”
“How do I stop that?”
“You don’t stop it. I’ll get files that don’t have super tiny words.”
“The size of the words impact how much they hurt?”
“Yup. Now gimme.” They return my file to me. “Thanks Bob.” I go back to reading while they color.
“Eve, we’re all done now! Wanna see?”
“Sure duckie.” Eevee dramatically hands me the two papers. They’re nearly identical drawing of a cartoonish cactus. I smile and boop Eevee’s nose. “That is a very good drawing.”
“It’s a cactus, cause you’re a cactus!”
“I noticed. You did a good job. I like the colors you chose.”
“Dad did a good job too.”
“Yeah they did.” Eevee sits next to me and pokes my file. “Careful duckie.”
“This looks boring.”
“It’s fun for me.”
“Can you stay still while reading it?”
“For the most part.”

“Can you take a break from reading?”
“Uh sure.”
“Dad, can Eve braid your hair? Then we can match!”
“That is up to Eve.”
“Fine with me. Your braid will be shorter though.” Tim hands me two more hair ties. I don’t braid his hair as well as they braided Eevee’s. My hands are too shaky but Eevee couldn’t do it. “Done. Sorry, it’s not great.”
“You did good.”
“You can’t even seen it Bob.” Eevee pops up next to me.
“You did good!”
“Thanks duckie.”
“Dad do Eve’s now.” My hair barely reaches my chin. It used to be longer but it was too annoying to take care of. I don’t think there’s much to braid.
“Only if that is fine with Eve.” I shrug.
“Yeah it is.” Eevee tells Tim what to do while he braids it. I go back to my file.

The stuff was all stolen in the same apartment building. Something was taken from every apartment on the same floor except for one. Obviously they were trying to frame the guy who didn’t get robbed. But I don’t care about that. I want to figure out why the stealy dude didn’t take anything of actual value.
“I am done.” I shift my head to the left then right, getting used to the feel of it.
“Thanks. We match now Eevee?”
“Yep!” Eevee sits next to me, curling up against my arm. “You look very cool.”
“Thanks duckie.”
“You look adorable, cactus.” I turn to glare at Tim. He looks confused. “That is what you said to Eevee.”
“Yeah cause she is adorable. I’m stabby.”
“I believe you are both.”
“Nope, I’m as adorable as a pile of garbage.”
“You are not a pile of garbage. You are a human,” Tim corrects.
“It’s an expression.” Tim hums and pats the top of my head. That’s a battle I’m going to pick another day. “Thanks for doing my hair.”
“Not a problem bug.”  

“How come Eve doesn’t gotta sleep?”
“Cause you’re tiny and need more sleep than me. That’s how it works.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Sleeping time little crow.” Eevee complains the whole way to her bed, at least from what I can hear. I look through the stack of board games. Chess. Does Eevee even know how to play chess? 

I get the board out and set up the pieces. I…I’m not sure I remember how this goes. The little ones just move forward, I think. One space forward and that’s it. The horses move in an L shape. That’s what Jason said but I don’t remember what that means. The tall spiral tower dudes, those ones can go diagonally on their original squares as much as they want. Forward or backward. The little rectangle towers just go straight but in any direction on any color. And you’re supposed to protect the king. The guy doesn’t really do all that much. I pick up the last piece and look at it. The queen.

I remember that she can essentially move however she wants. Forward, backwards, sideways, diagonally. She’s strong. Powerful and all that. There’s something she can’t do but I don’t remember what. I roll the horse around in my hand. The queen in the other. The queen can’t move in an L. Only the horse can do that. Only the knight can do that. The queen can’t do what the knight can, but she’s stronger than him. I put the pieces down. I don’t want to call it a knight. I’m going to stick to horse. Tim is intentionally walking loudly so I’ll hear them. I turn to look at him.
“Is Eevee asleep?”
“Yes.” They sit across from me. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to remember chess.”
“Do you want to play?”
“Do you know how? Cause I don’t think I’m going to be much help.”
“Yes. I do. I read the instructions. I am not sure where they are now.” I shrug.
“We can play if you want.” Tim absolutely destroys me. All the way. I never stood a chance. But it was fun. We play again. And again. And another time.
“If I use the horse it’s going to end up here, right?”
“Yes.”
“I still think the horse is dumb.”
“We do not have to play with it.”
“That feels mean. I wouldn’t want to get tossed off the board because I was dumb or confusing.” Tim hums in response. “It’s your move.”
“Yes. It is.” He moves a pawn forward. “When did you learn to play chess?” I shrug.

“Dad taught me. A little bit after he first got me.”
“How did he teach a baby chess? I thought babies could not do anything.” I try not to laugh.
“Dad got me a couple years ago. I was already twelveish.” Tim is deeply baffled. I move my bishop. I didn’t know Tim Drake got Eevee when she was that little.
“Where were you before then?”
“Around and about. Your turn.” Tim moves their rook. Rook moves their rook. “Why do you have chess? Eevee can’t play it.”
“Her father had it.”
“Tims are generally really smart. It makes sense he had it.”
“Was your Tim smart?” I smile a bit.
“Yeah. He was.” I move my pawn. “He was a bit ridiculous though.” 

“All humans are ridiculous.” Tim takes my horse. Rude. “How old was your Tim when he adopted you?”
“What? Jason adopted me, not Tim.” Tim is confused. I take his horse. Revenge. “Tim was a couple years older than me. Jason is my dad.”
“Jason did not adopt Eevee.”
“Jason adopts Eve in most universes.” I don’t really want to get into the biological kid thing, that’s a disaster. I guess I never have to get into it. That’s one set of problems I can leave in my world. Not like it can get to me anymore. “My Dad was cool. I liked him. He cooked really good food. It’s your turn.” Tim moves and takes my queen. “Rude.”
“Apologies.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me the queen back?”
“Do you want me to?” I debate it.
“Nah. If I win I want to actually win.” Tim gets my king in two moves.
“When are you going to sleep?” I shrug.
“I only need three hours of sleep a day.” That’s the least I can function on, long term. Long term being a handful of weeks. It’s a lot easier with coffee though.
“Eevee needs more than that.”
“Eevee’s little.” Tim looks suspicious. I don’t want to sleep. I don’t really need to. I mean, sure, it’s a good idea to sleep but I don’t want to deal with any more nightmares. If they are nightmares. I’m pretty sure they’re nightmares. “It’s a normal part of being too rested. I’ll sleep when I need to.”
“Good. Do you want to play again?”
“Duh. I’m gonna beat you this time.”
“Perhaps.”

“Eve come play with me.”
“Just a couple minutes duckie.”
“Dad will you play with me? I wanna swing.”
“Okay little crow.” 

We’re at a park. It’s day but a school day, so no one else is here, but us. Also it’s really not a great park. I’d be all worried about the small child but seeing as we have a literal god with us we should be fine. Tim’s pushing Eevee on the swings. It’s cute. Eevee waves at me. She almost falls out of the swing which causes immediate panic from Tim. She assures him she’s fine. They go back to swinging. It’s really cold. Sitting at this table is boring. I walk over to the others.
“Hi cactus!”
“Hey duckie.” I dump by backpack on the ground and sit on the swing to Eevee’s side. “Having fun?”
“Yeah, parks are fun. I like them. They are acceptable.” I smile.
“That’s good duckie.” Warm socks are good. I’m still wearing my old barely shoes shoes. I got new ones but I don’t want to wear them. They are dumb. I drag them on the ground while I swing back and forth. Just a bit. The ground is like a spongey. I tap it with my foot and it pushes back up. Fun texture.
“Eve.” I poke it with my foot again. It bounces up again. That is softer than concrete. “Eve.” Why do they make parks with concrete, that’s dumb. “ Eve .” I turn to look at Eevee. She’s been poking my arm. “I wanna sit with you and swing.”
“Kay come here.” She sits in my lap. “You’re very little.”
“Yes, and also adorable.”
“And also adorable,” I agree. “And super duper smart.”
“And also good at blowing up stuff!” I hug her tight, squishing her just a smidge. “Cactus,” Eevee whines, turning around to try and poke me again.
“What’s up duck?”
“Don’t squish squash me.”
“I would never do such a thing.”
“I agree. Bug would not do that,” Tim says. He’s moved to the side so we can both see them.
“You’re both silly.”
“Yeah we are,” I agree. I start swinging back and forth a bit. It’s hard to do while balancing a kid in my lap. I yawn, trying to stay awake. I shake my head a bit. I need to not drop the child. “Hey Bob?”
“Yes cactus?”
“Is it fine for me to throw Eevee as far as I can?” Eevee giggles.
“That’d be silly.”
“You are joking?” I nod.
“Yeah I am. I’ve thrown many a people but I don’t generally throw small ducks.”
“That’d be rude,” Eevee agrees. “Eve you’re cold.”
“It’s cold outside Eevee, that is kinda what happens.”
“No, your hands are super cold.” I slow down so I can hear her better. And cause I’m tired of swinging. Eevee holds onto one of my hands. “Cold hand.” I forgot gloves and Tim was too busy trying to convince Eevee to wear a hat to remind me. Aka too busy to force me wear gloves via pathetic attempts at logic. I shrug.
“I’m okay duckie.” Eevee narrows her eyes. “I am.” Eevee hums and tilts her head. She sounds and looks just like Tim.
“Want me to show you how to make a flower crown?” Eevee’s eyes get wide.
“You can do that?”
“Yep. We just gotta find flowers.” Eevee hops down and grabs my hand. She grabs Tim’s too. She starts dragging us forward. “I gotta get my backpack duck.”
“Dad can get it, we gotta find flowers.” Tim picks it up and we start walking.
“Kid I don’t know how much luck we’re going to have randomly looking for flowers in Gotham?”
“We can steal someone elses flowers.” My favorite little rapscallion. 

“Or we could buy flowers,” Tim corrects.
“Didn’t you steal Eevee?” I ask. “And me, technically.”
“Neither of you belonged to anyone.”
“I belonged to people,” I correct. “And I’m sure Eevee’s Tim had someone set up to take care of her. So you’re a thief of children, that’s way worse than stealing flowers.”
“There’s a park this direction, they should have flowers an stuff,” Eevee says importantly.
“It’s winter duckie.”
“Poison Ivy makes sure there’s flowers, they’re pretty.” Huh. That’s cool.
“How far are we from the park?”
“Two seconds.”
“About five minutes.” Tim’s answer is a lot more helpful. This ground is boring. It’s not soft or squishy like the ground at the park. It just has pebbles. I kick one as we walk. It skitters down the sidewalk. I kick another one. It does the same thing. Pebbles are cool. The ground is not.
“Dad what direction do we go?”
“Left.”
“Can we go leave stuff on your shrine after?” 

“If you want to little crow.” I rub my eyes with the back of my wrist. The ground here is super boring. “Did you hear that Eve?” There are also cracks in the sidewalks.

“Eve isn’t listenin’ right now.” Someone should fix that, cracks aren’t good.

“Eevee, I think we should go tomorrow.” The ground here is not like a sponge. It’s just boring.
“Do we have to?” The boring ground is rude.
“I think we should.”
“Okey dokey Dad-a-chokey.” I kick a pebble on the sidewalk as we walk. There are a lot of peddles.
“Did you hear that bug?” I look up.
“What?”
“We’re going to go home now.” I hum back. “Is that okay with you?” I look back at the ground to find more pebbles to kick.
“Yeah, sounds good.” I rub my eyes with my free hand. Eevee has my other hand hostage. It’s a bit rude, but mostly okay.  

“Cactus, don’t tell Dad where I am,” Eevee orders as she hops into my lap. She’s still wearing her flower crown.
“Kay duckie.” I hide her under a blanket. Tim comes in a few seconds later.
“Bug have you seen-” He looks at the blob in my lap and softly sighs.
“Wanna play chess?” I ask, voice overly innocent.
“We can play one game. Then I will go find Eevee. Wherever the little crow is.” Eevee stays quiet, surprisingly. Tim grabs the board from where we left it last night and sets it up.
“I’m pretty sure I’m gonna win, I became the best chess player ever in the last twelve hours.” Tim hums in reply. I move my pawn forward. He does the same. Eevee pokes her head out of the blanket to watch. Tim pretends not to notice. We go through the game. I have three of Tim’s pawns and a horse. He has both my rooks and a bishop and two pawns.
“You can not move that piece there bug.” I look at the thing I just moved.
“It’s the queen, that’s what she does.”
“That is my queen. You are the white pieces.” Oh, right.
“Sorry Bob.” I hold it in my hand and try to remember where it was to begin with. Tim gently taps the board, where I assume the queen used to be. I put it back.
“It is still your turn cactus.”
“I’m pretty sure I can’t win.”
“Probably not.”
“How encouraging,” I joke. I move my bishop forward a few steps. Tim takes it with their queen. I take his queen with my horse. “She’s mine now,” I say as I dramatically set her with the other fallen troops. “She shall never grace your army with her presence again.” Tim smiles.
“Until the next round.”
“Yeah yeah till then.” Eevee is very asleep. I move the blanket. I want to be sure she can breathe right. Her flower crown is tilted, partly covering her face. Tim beats me in two more moves.
“I’ll put Eevee in bed. Then we can play again. If you want.”
“Yeah. I do want to.” It’s better than files. I already figured out most of them. Well, the ones that are remotely possible. I’ll never know for sure if I figured them out or not. I can’t go find out.

I can’t go back to the universes. I never expected to go back to any of them. I wanted to believe I could, one day. I need to go back to some of them. Some of the worlds need me back, some of the people there. I pull on the string of my hoodie. I can’t go back. That isn’t how this works. I’m not cursed anymore. Just tethered here. It’s better, this is better, than falling forever. I feel like I’m still there. Stuck. Stuck in the bad universes, like I’ll never be able to get out again. I rearrange the pieces on the board. Putting them back where they belong. 

I did more good than harm. I think. I didn’t have a choice, I didn’t get to opt out of making hard decisions and doing hard things. And meeting people. Bad people and hurt people and panicked people and good people. There were so many people. I know I hurt some of them. Sometimes they deserved it. Sometimes they deserved more hurt than I got to give them. Sometimes they didn’t, and I should’ve left well enough alone. Some people I hurt just by existing, because I had to leave. 

I hope they figured it out, in the first world I got shoved into. I hope they aren’t worried. I hope I haven’t messed up that Dick and that Bruce. I probably did. I would’ve done everything differently if I knew what was going on. If I knew I was in another universe. I thought it was time travel. I knew how to handle time travel. As much as any one person can hande time travel.

But I was wrong. And now I can never know what happened to them. I don’t get to know what happened to any of them. The good people or the bad people. I wish I could know. I wish I could forget all about it. I wish I could forget my Dad, and every world I ever went to. No. I don’t. I don’t want to forget Dad. Or my world, for the most part. There’s some parts I wouldn’t mind forgetting. I don’t want to forget everything. I just want to change most of it. I just want to change it. 

Someone taps my arm three times. I instinctively try to punch them in the face. Tim grabs my hand before I make contact. I wince.
“Sorry.” There’s tears on my face. I pull my hand back to scrub at them. “I’m fine. Just zoned out.” I don’t want to deal with anymore worrying. And Tim is very clearly worried. They have one of those dumb faces on, the all worried one. “Wanna play again?” Tim looks at me. I try to keep the smile plastered on my face. Please drop it .
“Okay bug.” 

I have a hoodie. Hoodies are good. I’m not wearing it, just staring at it. I trace the outline of a crow on a blanket. Blankets are also good. I’m not supposed to have this hoodie. I tried not to have it. But I have it now. And now she doesn’t. And I can’t change that. I wonder if he’s cold. I don’t think dead people can be cold. I hope not. This blanket is soft. And covered in little crow drawings. Rook really went all in on the crow thing.

They are the crow god. Corvid god. Same difference. I still think it’s weird that gods exist. I didn’t really care that much about religion stuff. I was busy. I poke the blanket gently. I wonder if it’s the same in every universe. I wonder if the death god, whoever that is, is kind. I hope so. I would think so. Maybe. Depends on who you are, I guess. I wonder if Tim knows what dying does to people. Where we go. I don’t think I want to know. Knowing won’t change anything.

“Eve.” 

He’s dead no matter what. And I don’t know if the rules here translate to the rules in his universe. I don’t even know how to check for that. I don’t know the name of his universe or anything. Some universes have names. They’re categorized and whatever. I didn’t understand it when one of the bats tried to explain to me, a few worlds back. I was not super conscious but we didn’t know when I’d leave. They wanted to tell me as much as possible before I disappeared. 

“ Eve .” He’s dead no matter what. That’s all that matters, I guess. I wish he wasn’t. “Eve.” Eevee is poking my arm. “Cactus.” Another poke. “Stabby one.” She pokes my arm more forcefully. “ Eve . Pay attention.” I blink and rub the left side of my head.
“What’s up duck?”
“You’re not listening.” I sit up slowly. My head hurts.
“Sorry duckie. What are you tellin’ me?” I didn’t know it was morning yet.
“Wanna play Uno?” I look at Eevee. Uno. One. Why would I want to play one? “Please?”
“Kay. Sure.” I yawn and rub at my eyes. Eevee pulls on my arm. The blanket forts comfortable. I don’t really want to leave it. I do anyway. It’s Eevee. I’ll go for Eevee. I sit down where she motions for me to.
“Dad’s making me breakfast foods. So it’s just us this time.” I hum back. I want to go back to get a blanket. That crow one was cool. It’s cold. I don’t have my hoodie. Any of my hoodies. I don’t really like being cold. Eevee is holding cards out. I take them. Uno cards. Oh . 
“You go first duckie.” Duckie. Duck. Rubber duck. Eevee should have one of those.
“Eve, it’s your turn.” I look at my hands. My hands are holding cards. We’re playing Uno. I stare at the cards in my hand. I put down a red one. “Eve, it’s green.”
“Right.” I put down a green card, taking the red one back. “Your turn duckie.” Eevee puts down another card. It’s blue. I don’t have any blue. I draw a card. A raven is by me. It tilts its head at me. I wave with one hand. It’s my turn again. We are still at blue. I draw another card.
“You don’t have any blue?” I shake my head no. I try not to yawn. Eevee plays another blue. It’s a blue nine. I’ve got a red nine. I put it on top. “Eve that’s a six.”
“I think it’s a nine.”
“Nope that’s a six.”
“Oh. Sorry.” 

“It’s kay, we can cheat this time.” The raven comes closer and sits down by my leg. Eevee puts down a red card. I put down a red card. The raven is pretty. Eevee puts down a red card. The ravens beak taps against the cards in my hands. Right, Uno, that’s a thing we’re doing. I put down a red card.
“Cactus it’s yellow now.” I take back my red one and put a yellow. Eevee gives me a draw 2+. I draw two cards. Eevee puts down her last card.
“I win!”
“Nice job Bob.”
“I’m not Bob I’m Eevee.”
“I was kiddin’ kid.” Eevee pokes my arm again. I wince. “Please don’t do that.” The raven is gone now. Bye raven.
“You don’t call me kid. You call me duck or duckie or Eevee or sometimes silly child.”
“Sorry Eevee.”
“It’s okay cactus. Imma go talk to Dad, I’ll be right back!” 

I slowly pick up the cards and tuck them all together. My hands are shaking too much to get them back into the box. At least I made it a bit easier for Eevee or Tim to put away. Probably Tim. Almost definitely Tim. I watch as one of the crows hops down by me. They put their head on my leg, bonking it gently. I pat the top of their head softly, the way Eevee and Tim do sometimes. They bonk my leg again. The raven comes back. I think it was the same one.
“If you need somethin’ ya gotta go find Tim or Eevee. Sorry.” They flutter forward to press their head against my hand. “You’re soft.” The raven comes and stands by me. “I feel like yall should go find Tim. They can help you. He’s your boss an all.” I guess Tim’s sort of my boss to? Still kinda confused about how this all works. I yawn rubbing the side of my face. One of them makes a loud bird noise and I wince. “Shh. Please. You’re real loud.” Tim and Eevee are loud as they come in.
“We’re gonna go to the shrine!” Eevee says. Excited, she is real excited. “Wanna come?” The crow and raven got away. Bye.
“Yeah sure.” I look at the Uno cards. I thought we were playing Uno. One of the crows is on Tim’s shoulder and is quietly making bird noises. Something that starts with an s. Maybe. I don’t remember the names for bird noises. Tim offers a hand and I let him help me stand. I stifle a yawn. “When are we going?”
“Now, cause I wanna put the new drawings and also some gummy worms,” Eevee tells me importantly. “So you gotta get a coat and shoes and stuff.” Right. Walking, that’s a thing I’ve got to do.
“Got it duckie.” I yawn and look at my backpack. I don’t think my coats in there. Just my hoodie.
“This way cactus!” Eevee grabs my hand. I try not to wince. Right, clothes pile. That is where the stuff is. I grab a coat. I think this one is mine.
“Here bug.” Tim hands me another one. Oh yeah.
“Thanks.” Coats are warm, that’s nice.
“And you gotta wear these!” Eevee announces, handing me gloves. My hands are shaking really bad. Tim takes them. Bye gloves. Tim is holding onto one of my hands. I like this coat. It’s warm. Eevee is putting on a hat. She looks very adorable. Tim has my other hand now. I look at the first one. There’s a glove on it now. I hold it up so I can look at it closer. Tim lets go of my other hand. It also has a glove. Those are warm. 

“Are you sure you want to go bug?”
“Yeah I do.” I don’t want to be alone. I’m not sure where we’re going though. 

“Do you want me to carry your backpack?” We’re walking up the hill. The one that leads to Tims shrine. I don’t know if I want Tim to carry my backpack. I always have my backpack. But it’s heavy and walking is hard.
“Just for a bit.” 

I take it off and hand it to them. It takes forever to get to the top of the hill. Eevee got there way before us. Whenever we get there Eevee immediately starts to talk to Tim. Not sure what it’s about. I go sit by a tree and lean against it. Eevee is rearranging stuff on Rooks shrine. He comes and sits close to me. They offer me my backpack. I hug it to my chest. 

“Thanks.” I have stuff to put on the shrine in here but I don’t want to walk. I’ll do it in a minute. “What does it feel like? When we put stuff on the shrine?”
“That is hard to explain.” That makes sense. I kick the snow a bit. It’s cold. My arms aren’t cold. I’ve got a jacket.
“Why do you wear coats?” Tim looks at me, smiling a bit but still confused. I gesture vaguely at the coat. “You’re a god. Why do you wear coats?”
“So that Eevee will. She did not think it was fair that she had to and I did not. And she did not want me to be cold.”
“How old do I have to be before I can decide not to wear a jacket?” Tim hums.
“200.” I snort.
“We don’t live that long.”
“Really?”
“No humans live like I dunno-” I yawn rubbing my eyes before I start talking again. “Like a hundred years. Maybe. Most of us die at like 60 to 80.”
“That is not long.” I shrug. “You are fifteen.”
“Uh huh.” Tim’s shoulder is a pretty good pillow.
“If you will die around 75 you are already a fifth of the way through your life.” I wrinkle my nose. Don’t like that thought.
“You need to get a bench up here or something, it’s cold.” The ground is very cold.
“I normally carry Eevee if she does not want to stand.”
“Well you can’t carry me. Cause I’m not two.”
“I am not two ,” Eevee says indignantly. She’s still putting things on the shrine. “I’m big.”
“I’m bigger,” I answer, trying not to mumble.
“It would be not be hard to carry you,” Tim corrects. “You are a child. And small.”
“I’d stab anyone who tried. An I have. Numerous times.” Not always intentionally.

“You are a very stabby cactus,” Tim agrees.
“How many peoples have you stabbed?” Eevee asks as she skips over to us.
“I dunno. At least a hundred.”
“Why did you stab all those people?”
“Cause they’re jerk-” I’m cut off by a yawn. It takes awhile to finish yawning. “Jerk faces.” 

“You’re sleepy,” Eevee says, sitting on Tim’s other side.
“Nope. Yawnin’ doesn’t mean tired in my world.” I didn’t sleep last night, not for more than an hour because I kept waking up. So I’ve slept four hours in the last three days.
“That isn’t true.” I hum.
“Yeah it isn’t. Still not tired. Right Bob?” Tim hums softly in return. They have one hand on my forehead. “Still not on fire.”
“I was just checking.” They’re both rude, I’m fine.
“I’m ready to go!” Eevee announces. I stand, slowly, and go to the shrine.
“Gotta put my stuff duckie. Tell me where you want me to put it. Don’t want to mess up your thing.” Eevee skips over and pats on part of the shrine.
“I left you spots right there!” Loud. She’s loud.
“Thanks kid.”
“Eevee.”
“Sorry. Thanks Eevee.” She opens my backpack for me. That’s good. Shaky hands. I get out my stuff. I’ve got a bunch of stuff. I’m still not really sure what you’re supposed to put for others. But crows like shiny stuff. And Tims in charge of all the crows. So they get a bunch of stuff. 

The crows leave stuff everywhere. I think it’s a game for Eevee, so she can hunt around the treehouse. For new shiny stuff. She loves it. She gets me to play with her too. She won’t take any of the things I find. If I don’t find enough she’ll give me some of hers. I’ve got a bunch of those to put on here. Buttons and weird coins and cool rocks and stuff. I’ve got some chess pieces too. Not from our chess board, but ones I made out of clay with Eevee. I showed her how to make clay with salt and flour and stuff. That was cool. That’s all the stuff I’ve got right now. Tim is sitting on the ground by me. Eevee’s in his lap.
“Ready to go bug?”
“Not a bug.”
“I am not a Bob.” Nicknames. Right.
“I’m forgettin’ something.”
“Is it in your backpack?” I shake my head no. “Do you think it’s at home?”
“I dunno.” I don’t want to go until I remember it. 

“Is it a popsicle?” Eevee asks. The shrine is cracked. There are cracks all over. “Or a elephant?” That’s not good.
“Does it hurt?”
“Does what hurt bug?”
“It’s broken. The shrine. Does it hurt?” I don’t want it to hurt. Tim shakes their head no.
“It does not hurt. I think I know what you forgot.” Oh. That’s good. “Did you eat breakfast?” I don’t remember. I don’t think so. “I think we should go home so you can eat.”
“You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”
“I’m sure bug.”  

-[line break]-

“Eve.” I ignore Tim. I have a fidget toy. I’d rather use that than talk to Tim. “Bug.” It’s one of the cube ones. It has a spinny thing on it. “Bug?”
“Doing stuff.” The spinny thing is loud. I do not like the spinny thing.
“You are tired.”
“Only a bit.” Tim’s a good pillow.
“How about you finish eating and then sleep for a little?”
“Shh. Pillows aren’t supposed to talk.”
“I am not a pillow.”
“Uh huh. You are.” I lift my head up a bit to bonk his arm with it. “Pillow.” The cube has buttons on one side. I press it down. It makes a clicky nose. I wrinkle my nose. That’s a good noise. “Tim look.” I press it again. “Noise.”
“That is a noise.” I hum back. I press another button. No noise. Interesting. “Do you want to eat or rest?”
“Is sitting here resting?”
“I have to get up soon bug.” Oh. I don’t want Tim to get up.
“Is it resting though?”
“Yes.”
“Then I wanna stay here.”
“I need to check on Eevee in a few minutes.”
“Can I go?”
“Yes. If you promise to go back to resting after.”
“Kay.” I press the button again. Noise. I press the other one. No noise. “Bob listen.” Noise button. Quiet button.
“That is very cool bug.” I nod. “How much have you slept?”
“I dunno.” There’s a spinny thing. It feels bad. “Tim, I don't like the spinny thing.”
“Can you guess?” I don’t want to do math.
“Four of the hours.”
“Last night?” I shake my head. There’s nothing on this side. That’s sad.
“Three nights.”
“You slept two hours two nights ago.” So three plus two plus one. Six.
“Oh yeah. I slept six hours. Sorry.”
“It’s okay bug.” I like the buttons the most. “How much did you sleep last night?”
“One of them. Sleeps loud.” Tim hums. I like the blanket fort. It’s warm. Warm stuff is good. “Tim can I have poptarts?”
“You have poptarts.” Tim taps the plate next to me. Oh yeah, I do have poptarts. I take another bite of the poptart. “I think you need to sleep.”
“No. It’s the other thing.” I don’t remember what I called it. “Too much sleep.”
“You only slept one hour bug.”
“I’m fine.” I am out of poptarts though. That’s sad. “Are we going to go find Eevee?”
“Yes, we can in a minute.”
“Kay Bob.” I’ve got the cube. I like it. There’s a switch on one side. On. Off. On. Off. My hands hurt. I stop flipping the switch. Tim is warm. That is good. I rub my eyes with the backs of my hands. I don’t open them again. The dark is good. Tim’s a good pillow. Bunch of good stuff.
“Bug?” Tim’s voice is quiet. I don’t want to answer. Words are dumb. Tim is humming something quietly. I don’t know what song it is. Sounds like somethin’ Dad used to sing. 

I pull my eyes open. It’s not bright. That’s good. There’s a crow in front of me. It is right in front of my face. I don’t really want a crow in front of my face. I’m in the blanket fort. That’s good. I’m by myself. That’s less good. The crow stops looking at me and looks towards the opening of the fort.
“Don’t go.” I didn’t mean to say it. But I don’t want them to go. I don’t want to be all the way alone. The crow looks back at me. It moves closer to me. I think they’re gonna stay. “Thank you.” The crow makes crow noises. “You’re pretty.” I gently pat the top of the crows head. “Soft.” I rub my eyes as I pull my hand away. I don’t know if you’re supposed to pet crows. Or pat them. That might be mean. “I’m sorry.” I mean it. “I wasn’t trying to be mean.” The crow makes another crow noise. I think it’s okay. Maybe.
“Eve!” I wince. Eevee is very loud. “You’re awake!” I was asleep? “Now you can come play hide and seek.” I don’t want to move.
“How long was I sleeping?”
“Forever.” I don’t want to sleep forever. I didn’t sleep long enough to have nightmares. Which is good. “Dad told me to get him if you woked up so I’m gonna be right back!” I don’t think that’s a good idea. I sit up to chase after Eevee. The crow sits in my lap.
“I gotta go.” They don’t move. “I gotta go talk to Tim.” The crow still doesn’t move. “This is not very nice. I gotta go.” The crow still doesn’t go. “I’m gonna stand up. So please move. I don’t want to squish you.” I gotta go find Tim. “I’m gettin’ up in three, two, one.” I stand up slowly and the crow flutters onto my shoulder. I debate this. “Okay you can stay there. But you were still rude.” I get out of the blanket fort. Eevee is holding Tim’s hand as they walk inside. They’re holding a glass of water. Tim gives the crow on my shoulder a look. It’s a kinda spooky look. The crow goes onto his shoulder and squacks. Bird noises. Tim is clearly listening to the bird. I glare it. “Tattling is cheating.” The crow ignores me. Eevee hops over to me and grabs my hand.
“Let’s go play hide an seek!”
“Kay, we can do that.”
“No, Eve can not do that. They need to go back to sleep.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes you do.” Tim is putting his hand on my forehead again. His other hand has the glass of water. It’s splashy.
“I’m not on fire.” Tim hums back.
“Bed.”
“It’s bright outside. I don’t wanna sleep.”
“You only slept for half an hour.”
“Eevee said it was forever.”
“Eevee does not understand how time works.” Eevee isn’t paying attention, she’s getting out the Uno cards. The crow from before is on her shoulder.
“You told the crow to spy on me.”
“It was not spying.”
“Yeah it was. You’re bein’ a creep.” Creepy dude. I rub my eyes.
“I just wanted to be sure that I knew if you woke up.”
“The crow didn’t go tell you though. It was just bein’ creepy.”
“You asked him not to leave.”
“They do stuff I ask to?”
“Sort of.”
“Can I ask him to make you leave me alone about sleepin’?”
“No.” I huff. “Why do you want to stay awake?”
“Cause sleep is loud.”
“What does that mean?” I walk away to where Eevee was. “Bug.” I grab the chess box.
“I wanna do this.”
“You need to sleep.”
“No. I’m doing chess.” I sit down on the ground and get out the pieces. Tim sits down across from me.
“We can play chess for a little.”
“We can play chess for a lot.” Tim hums back. They hand me the glass of water. “I don’t like water.”
“You need to sleep or drink water.”
“Fine.” I drink some of the water. It tastes icky. “Who’s going first?”
“You can bug.” I move one of the horses forward. Tim moves a pawn. I drink more of the water. It makes my head not hurt so bad. “Your move cactus.” I put a pawn forward a bit. “Why is sleep loud?”
“It just is.” Tim moves. I move the rook forward. Eevee has headphones on. The noise cancelling ones. I don’t have to worry about her hearing me. Tim moves another piece. I move a pawn forward. “The nightmares aren’t good.” Tim winces. I have not seen him wince before. Not that I remember.
“What do you normally do when you have nightmares?” I don’t answer. I wait for him to move. “Whenever Eevee had one she would find her Tim. He would talk with her or tell her a story.”
“What do you do when she has them?” He moves a piece forward. His queen. I move my rook again. I take his pawn.
“I check to see if she wants a hug. If it is late, and she needs to sleep again, I will tell her a story. Or something similar. What did your Dad do when you had them?” 

I miss Dad. I miss Jason. I want him back.
“He make hot chocolate. Most the time.” I didn’t always tell him when I had one. A nightmare. “We would talk about it. Sometimes. Or talk about something else. Or watch a movie. Just do something till we fell asleep.” I shut my eyes. “That doesn’t matter. He’s gone. Or I’m gone. I guess.” I want to go back. I want my Dad back. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does.”
“No it doesn’t,” I snap back. I feel like I did at the store. My skin is itchy. Too tight and too small and I’m mad. I want to throw the chess board. I want to yell at Tim. I want to break something. “I don’t want to play anymore.”
“Okay bug.” I don’t help Tim pick it up. I want to go. I want to run. I don’t even think I can do that. Pocket dimension. And I promised I wouldn’t run. I want to. I wanna go. But I promised. So I can’t. I’m stuck. I hate being stuck.

Chapter Text

He’s laughing. I hate that laugh. It isn’t a choice. I know it isn’t a choice but I still want him to shut up. I want to scream until there’s nothing left but my voice. No one else. No more laughing, or joking, or words. Just screams. I want everything to shut up. I didn’t think it’d be this bad. I never thought it’d be this bad. I should’ve known it’d be this bad. I’ve done this before , how did I not know it’d be this bad?

“Bug.” 

Tim’s laughing. He’s so tiny. Why is he so tiny? I know why he’s so tiny. He’s still laughing. I want him to shut up. It isn’t a choice. I know it isn’t a choice. But I want to shut him up. I want to scream at him till he shuts up. I want to break something. I want to make everything be quiet. I’m going to fall. I know I’m going to fall. That’s what happens everytime. 

Tim has a gun and I have a gun.

He is laughing. I do not want to shoot him. Joker is behind him. Hand on his shoulder. He choose who he wanted. He wanted Tim to kill me. A trial run.
Tim has a gun. I have a gun. I’m going to fall. I always fall. It’s starting. I can feel it. I know it’s coming. I pull the trigger. Tim stops laughing. The laughing is done. He stopped laughing. I fall.
“No one is laughing. No one is here but you. And me. And Eevee. She’s asleep. You are not…there.” 

I shot him. He died. I watched him die. I can’t change that. I can’t change that. He died. I shot him. I got the laughing to stop. I could’ve shot the Joker. I could have. But I was falling. And I didn’t have time to shift my target. I did not want to shift my target. He had to die. His Bruce, his bats, they didn’t want him anymore. 

I was the one who went. I was the one who went to try and get him home. I was the one who went. I was the one who got hurt. I was the one who killed him. Because no one was coming. No one was coming. If I let him live, if I had managed to kill Joker instead, he wouldn’t be able to get away. He’d be there. With the rotting corpse of his makeshift father and no one would come. I just wanted the laughing to stop. I just wanted the laughing to stop.
“Eve.” There’s someone by me. They sound panicked. That’s bad. Probably. Maybe they should be panicked. I’m here. By them. I hurt people. They should be worried. They should be scared. I just wanted the laughing to stop.
“I wasn’t thinking about Tim,” someone is talking, I’m not sure who’s talking, “I just wanted the laughing to stop. I just needed the laughing to stop.”
“No one is laughing.” I just wanted the laughing to stop. “No one is hurt. You did not hurt anyone bug.” The idea of that is hilarious. I have hurt everyone . I hurt so many people, no matter where I go I leave scars and gouges in whatever I touch. “Eve. Can you look at me.” I look at who’s talking. I look at Tim.

I shudder. I slam my hands over my eyes. No. No, I’m not looking at him. My palms are wet. I’m crying. I hate that I’m crying.
“Go. Away.”
“I do not think that is a good idea.”
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“I am not dead. I am not the Tim you are thinking of.”
“A lot of Tims die. Most of them. They die really fast. You’re meant to be dead.”
“You are right. The Tim of this world is dead. I am not Tim. You are in this universe. With Eevee.” Why am I in a universe with pokemon. “You are here. You are not going to fall again.” Falling. I’m not falling. “You were dreaming.”
“No. Not a dream.”
“A nightmare?”
“No.” I’m with Tim. Rook. I’m by Rook. We’re in the universe I can’t leave. The universe I’m stuck in. And that’s a good thing. That’s a good thing. “It keeps replaying.” My voice broke. I don’t want it to break. I don’t want this. I pull my hands away from my eyes. “I killed him.”
“That Tim?”
“Yeah.” He was laughing and I wanted him to shut up. “He’s dead.”
“You regret it.”
“Yeah you generally regret when you kill a twelve year old who was tortured until they couldn’t, until they couldn’t think anymore,” I snap back. I wince. Sorry. I’m sorry.
“Why did you kill him?” Rook should be mad. Or judgey. They should be looking at me like I’m gross. Like I’m a monster. Like I’m someone who kills children for being too loud.
“I was falling. He was aiming a gun at me. He-” he was crying, white makeup wearing away as his tears fell down his cheeks, face stuck in that awful smile, “I couldn’t kill the Joker. In time.” Tim’s entire face changes. I don’t know how it changes. But it changes. It’s scary. For a second.
I feel shaky. The back of my hand is covered in blood. I don’t push my nails into my palms, like most people do. I fist one hand and curl the fingers of the other around it. There’s blood caked under my left hand. It drags along the back of my right. I feel sick looking at it. Tim, unsurprisingly, has a glass of water and hands it to me. My hands are shaky. They’re always shaky. I’m not in the blanket fort. Why am I not in the blanket fort?
“You were sleep walking.” Wondrous. A whole new problem for me to deal with. “Do you want to tell me about it?” Tim is sitting in front of me. I look at the water in my hand.
“It isn’t pretty.” I’m here. I know I’m here now. It’s okay now, for the most part.
“I did not think it would be.”
“I haven’t told anyone before.” It never mattered. I’d be gone in a week anyway, what was the point of dumping my hurt on someone just to disappear.
“I do not know much about the Joker. I know that he hurt Eevee. A lot.”
“He did?”

“Yes. I believe her Tim killed him.” Huh. Good for him.
“Where were you?” I wince. Bad. That’s a bad way to word it. It’s just that Rook is a literal god and as much as Joker sucks he can’t really beat that. I think. I’d assume. I hope.
“I had not met Eevee yet.” Oh. That makes sense. 

“Joker sucks. In every universe.” He’s also my father. Which I’m not going to mention. How am I going to avoid mentioning that? That was the driving force behind everything. “He tortured Tim. Batman had sidekicks. Children. Joker wanted that. He wanted to…to make Tim kill Bruce. I don’t know if he did or not. I just know that when I got to that universe no one was trying.”
“Trying to what?”
“Get him home.” At least I had Jason looking for me. I had people. That Tim didn’t. “No one was coming.”
“So you went.” I scoff.
“Yeah. Like the arrogant moron I was. I went.” As if I hadn’t just gotten my ass beat by my own Joker a few months ago. “And Tim died. I didn’t change anything.” I just made it all worse.
“But you did.” Rook sounds confused. “He was not hurting anymore.”
“Yeah cause he was dead .”
“There was no one waiting for him. No one wanted him anymore. If you had shot the Joker instead he still would not have had help. He should have had help. But he didn’t. You stopped the hurt.”
“I killed him.”
“How long were you there?” Almost a week. I think.
“Why does that matter.”
“You can think clearly now. You can come up with alternatives now. You are removed from the situation now. It is easier. To see it all now.” Yeah. It is. “I wish that you had not killed him. Because that death hurts you. But it was better than doing nothing.”

“I should have gotten him out faster. I should have got him out.”
“You didn’t. You were not supposed to be in that situation at all.”
“But I was . I was there. And I killed him. I wasn’t thinking about if he’d hurt or not. I wasn’t thinking about him. I just, I just wanted to know I did something. Before I left, before I couldn’t go back and fix it . I had to know I did something.”
“You did what you could.”
“Yeah. I guess.” That world was awful . I hated it.
“Were…was every world like that?”
“No. That was one of the worst ones.” I drink some of the water. I forgot it existed. “Do you have bandaids? Messed up my hand.” I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Tim notices the blood for the first time. I kind of regret asking. They quickly disappear. A crow appears right by me. “You’re gonna tattle,” I mutter. It doesn’t react. I lean backwards.

Tim died. I can’t change that. I think it was for the better. Normally it isn’t, obviously. But that time, that time it was. There wasn’t anyway who would’ve taken care of him. Who would’ve helped him. He needed his family. They abandoned him. Like someone else I know. I should’ve done more to help her. Be there for it. And now they’re gone and I can’t help her either.
“What bandaids do you want?” I jerk backwards. Rook. Tim. Right. I shrug.
“I don’t care.” This turns out to be a mistake. “Why do you have hello kitty band aids?”
“Eevee likes them.”
“Uh huh.” I look at the basket Tim brought over. It’s filled with bandaids. Boxes of them. I’m not gonna ask. “Sorry. For freaking out.”
“You do not need to apologize.” Yeah I do. But whatever. “Do you want to try and sleep?” I groan. I set the cup of water down and rub the left side of my face.
“I lied to you. About the sleep thing.”
“I figured that out when you began to fall asleep standing up.” I didn’t do that. According to Tim’s face I definitely did that.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied.”
“How many hours are you supposed to sleep?”
“Technically like eight to ten hours.”
“That is not three.”
“Yeah it’s not three.” I pull my knees to my chest. “I’ve never slept that much. I got good at not sleeping. With the whole falling thing.” I got good at falling asleep and waking up fast. I’ve always had to do that. “It doesn’t work so well anymore. No adrenaline.” I’m not terrified. It doesn’t work without that fear. “I won’t lie again. About that. Specifically.”
“But you might lie again?”
“I want to say no.”
“But that would be a lie.”
“Yup.”
“You are not going to sleep ten hours.”
“Oh absolutely not.” I shrug. “I don’t like sleep. It’s loud.” 

“You said it was not a nightmare.” I bite my tongue.
“It isn’t. I know nightmares. That…it’s like I’m reliving it. It happens with other memories. Other universes. Stuff I was never there to see, things that happened after I left, like I’m there.” I shrug. “It doesn’t matter either way.” Tim hums. They do that a lot.
“You need to sleep.”
“I will.”
“Do you want to play chess first?”
“Yeah. I do.” Not really sure where to get to what’s essentially the living room from here.
“Your hand is okay?”
“Yup. I barely got hurt.”
“Your hand was covered in blood,” Tim says as they start to walk. I follow them. “That is bad.”
“Who needs blood anyway.”
“You do. You have a lot of blood.” We’re back in the living room. That’s good. I flop on the ground. The grounds comfortable.
“Here.” Tim offers me a bar of chocolate. “We could warm it up. If you want. But I think that would make it melt.”
“Thanks?”
“You said that your father made hot chocolate when you had nightmares.” I forgot I told Tim that. I smile. They’re such a dork.
“You’ve got no idea what hot chocolate is.”
“Not really.”
“Thank you.” I mean it. Tim is setting up the board. “Did you know humans can dislocate their limbs?” Tim looks at me. “Like my arm can just,” I make a popping noise, “straight out of it’s socket.”
“Can you put it back?” Tim sounds deeply distressed.
“Yeah but it hurts.”
“Why are you telling me that?”
“Because your reactions to normal human things are really funny.”
“I am glad my horror at your weak bodies amuses you.”
“Some people have connective tissues issue, which means it pops out randomly all the time.” Tim shudders. They’ve finished putting the pieces on the board. “Saliva is just blood.”
“That can not be true.”
“Dunno what ta tell you Bob, humans are weird.”
“What other awful things do you know?”
“Oh tons. For example you have to dislocate your thumb to get out of handcuffs.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because it’s better than being stuck in handcuffs, duh. You want to go first or me?”
“You can go first.”
“I’m totally going to beat you this time.”
“Perhaps.” 

Chapter Text

“Eevee.”
“I’m sleepin’ Eve.”
“I think you’re gonna want to wake up.” Eevee rolls over to glare at me. She’s awful at it. It’s adorable. I mess with her hair gently, moving it out of her face. “You’re super buried in blankets.”
“I like blankets. I also like sleep.”
“That is not what you told Tim last night.”
“I like sleep now.”
“Do you like sleep more than treasure hunts?” Eevee sits straight up and beams at me. “Go get dressed duckie.”
“Treasure hunt, treasure hunt,” Eevee chants, hopping out of bed. She grabs my hand. “Come on cactus, we gotta go fast.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to sleep?” I ask innocently. Eevee looks at me with the seriousness of someone far older than thirteen.
“Treasure hunts are better than napping.”
“Well good to know we’re in agreement.”
“DAD!” Eevee yells as she runs up to him. She stops right before she hugs him and taps his arm three times. He smiles and picks her up, hugging her tight. “We’re going on a treasure hunt!”
“I know little crow.”
“Did you make the treasure hunt?” Eevee asks, head tilting to the side.
“Yeah,” I say, before Tim can say anything. “He totally made all of it.”
“Eve made it for you. I helped a bit.” Tim looks at me, head tilted in confusion. “Why would you want to hide that?”
“Cause I’ve got a reputation Bob.”
“A reputation of being mean to children?”
“Yep.” I toss Eevee’s hat at her. “Get ready so we can go kid.”
“We gotta eat food and stuff.”
“Nope, first stop on the treasure hunt covers that.” Eevee beams. It is ridiculously easy to make the kid happy. 

“How many muffins can I get?”
“All of them,” I answer, shrugging.
“Two muffins,” Tim corrects.
“Lame.” Tim ignores me.
“Can I get two chocolate chip muffins?”
“Yes you can little crow.”
“Can I please have two of the muffins with chocolate chips in’em?” Eevee polites asks the cashier. They nod and smile. 

“No problem. You know, you both look just like your dad.”
“Ew, he’s not my dad. They’re just an annoying person who cares about my well being for some unknown reason and buys poptarts that I steal.”
“He’s Eve’s dad, she’s just silly,” Eevee assures the cashier. Tim stays quiet but they’re definitely smiling. Which is rude but I’ll ignore it for the time being. I pay and we go sit down. Eevee seriously hands me a muffin.
“I’m good kid, I already ate.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Ignore Bob, they’re full of lies.”
“You gotta eat so we can have energy to find treasure.” I sigh and accept the muffin. 

“Bob?” I nod at Tim.
“Can you go get the hot chocolate?”
“You told them my name was Bob.”
“Well duh, it’s ya name Bob.” Tim goes to get them. He comes back with three cups and puts on in front of Eevee and me.
“Why do we have three?”
“Cause I want all of mine and Eevee wants all of hers but I want you to try it,” I explain before I take a bite of muffin. Coffeeshops are fun. I refuse to give Eevee coffee though. That seems a smidge too chaotic. I’ll only ever do it if I have an escape plan and really want to bug Tim.
“Eve, this is a drink.”
“Huh?”
“Chocolate is a candy. Not a drink.”
“Just try it.” Tim tries it and tilts his head. “You look like a bird.”
“Dad is a bird,” Eevee says, mouth full of muffin. “A crow!”
“This tastes like chocolate. But it is not.” I shrug.
“It’s chocolate with another liquid. Like water or some form of milk. You can buy the mix of it or make your own and melt real chocolate. It’s pretty good.”
“It is strange.”
“Yeah but humans like weird stuff. Like going to the moon. Or poptarts. Or any form of soup.” I turn to Eevee. “You want your first clue?”
“We’re getting clues?”
“Yep, that’s how you’re going to hunt for the treasure.”
“I thought you hunted for the treasure with maps?”
“You’ll get a map later. For now, ya get clues.” Eevee is happily swinging her legs back and forth under the table.
“What’s the clue?” Tim answers as I drink my hot chocolate. I love hot chocolate.
“You have to go to the place with yards of thread and lanes of buttons.”
“That sounds cheesy when you say it,” I joke. Eevee goes quiet. She’s thinking. I drink the last of my hot chocolate. Goodbye drink of chocolate that’s worth it’s weight in gold. “I’ll be right back, I’m getting coffee.”
“I was under the impression children were not meant to have coffee.” I look at Tim.
“There is no power on earth that could stop me.”
“I am a literal god.”
“And?” I stand up, pushing my chair in and grabbing my backpack. “It’s fine for teenagers, Eevee’s chaotic enough as it is.” I come back with coffee in a couple minutes. Eevee is still thinking. I sit down again and crack my neck. Tim winces. “My bones are fine.”
“That is hard to believe.”
“Trust me, you’d know if they weren’t.” My spine at least, I had a broken rib that I didn’t tell them about for awhile. It’s better now. “Hey did you know humans can take off their thumbs?”
“That isn’t true.”
“Uh yeah it is.” I do the thumb trick. The thing where it looks like you pulled off your own thumb. Tim pales a bit and I start laughing before I show them both my hands, thumbs attached.
“Please don’t remove your thumbs.”
“It’s just an optical illusion, no worries.” I actually did have my thumb chopped off once but it got sewed back and it’s good as new. Essentially.
“Is it Rainbow Crafts Emporium?” I look at Eevee. “Cause I knew it was a craft store. And that’s the only one with a buncha buttons. A whole aisle of buttons.” I smile at her and lean over to ruffle her hair.
“Ya got it duckie.” She beams. She gets up fast, putting on her hat again.
“Come on Dad, I wanna go as fast as humanly and godly possible!” 

I grab my drink and Eevee helps me throw our trash out. Tim takes my backpack. I let them. Tim keeps a firm grip on Eevee’s hand. The craft store is only a block away. It doesn’t take long to get to. Eevee drags Tim towards the button aisle. There are an absurd amount of buttons. She starts searching the shelves. Me and Tim watch her pace up and down the aisle. She goes to the crow buttons and tilts her head before she moves the box of them. She bounces on her heels and reaches back. Her hand comes out with a small rainbow music box. She runs over to us.
“Dad look! It’s pretty.” I take a sip of coffee to hide my smile.
“Open it up little crow.” Eevee tilts her head.
“This is the treasure.”
“Nope, this is just the first stop.” Eevee hugs me really tight. I hug her back.
“Thanks cactus.”
“No problem duck. Now open it up.” She sits on the ground and dramatically opens it. It plays the song her and Tim are always humming. I’ve heard them both sing parts of it before. It’s some sort of legend about crows. She watches the little ballerina thing in the middle spin around.
“She’s got a crow on her arm!”
“Yeah she does,” I agree. “See anything else?” The inside of the box is painted like a night sky in a forest, laced with trees. There’s a little mirror on the bottom of the lid with a sticky note attached to it. Eevee carefully takes it out and tilts her head at it. She reaches up to Tim, handing it to them.
“What does it say?”
“It says-” Tim stops and sighs. He looks at me. I try not to smile and I plaster an innocently ignorant look on my face. “It says ‘Go to the place we get new sacrifies for Eevee’s quest to create explosions.’” Eevee giggles. I try not to smile.
“So we gotta go to the place we go when I blow up the microwave?” Eevee asks. Tim nods.
“Apparently.”
“That was a very funny clue cactus.” I nod at Eevee, helping her stand.
“I am rather hilarious. Want one of us to hold the music box?”
“No, I wanna hold onto it.” She hugs it gently. I smile. I’m glad. It took forever to paint.

“Do I gotta check every part of Walmart or just the microwave section?” Eevee asks, swinging our arms back and forth. She insisted on holding my hand, to make sure I didn’t disappear. Tim is sticking close to us, which is a good plan. It’s super busy.
“Just the microwaves,” I assure her. She starts walking that way. “Unless I’m lying.” She turns to look at me. “I’m just kiddin’.” She starts walking towards the microwave section again. This is a walk we all know by heart.
“Dad are we gonna get a microwave to?”
“I hope not.” Tim gives me a look.
“Hey, I was sleep deprived and Eevee told me it was a family tradition.”
“You are always sleep deprived.”
“Yeah but I was extra sleep deprived.” I drink some of my coffee, the one in my other hand. Eevee’s still holding onto my left one. Maybe my right hand? No, it’s the left. “And I helped clean up the destruction from the explosion.”
“You juggled broken pieces of microwave and Eevee cheered you on.”
“Yes, I helped,” I agree. “Here we are kid.” The aisle of microwaves, a weekly meeting spot. “Get to hunting.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Search around duckie.” She skips forward, holding my hand as we move forward. She opens up one of the display microwaves. Nothing. She goes to the next. Nada.
“Is it any of them?”
“I’m not spoiling anything small child.” Eevee accepts my answer and continues to open up microwaves. Tim is following behind us.
“Can you hold this for me?” I ask him. They take the coffee. It’s almost entirely gone. “What do ya think you’re lookin’ for duckie?”
“I dunno yet. Probably not something flammable.” I snort.
“You’re right about that.” I take off her hat and ruffle her hair.
“Eve,” she whines, trying to reach up and get her hat back. She pauses. “Is it on top of a microwave? Cause you’re making me reach up.” She catches on fast.
“I’d never do such a thing.” Eevee smiles and reaches for me to pick her up. I do and she looks around on the top of the microwaves. I’m not all that tall but the kid is super short, so me holding her helps a bit. She points to the microwave down the aisle a bit and to the other side. I go to it and she picks up the little bag off it.
“It’s a gummy worm!” Eevee says, thrilled with the thing. It’s a super small purse, if it can be called that, that looks like a gummy worm. I set her down so she can look over it. Tim’s talking to one of the worker people. 

“-but no, we aren’t here for a microwave.”
“Another microwave.”
“Another microwave,” Tim agrees tiredly. The worker person is having fun with it. We’re practically celebrities here by now.
“Eve, it’s got a map!”
“What? A map? On a treasure hunt? I dunno about that Eevee, it seems a bit far fetched.” Eevee is vibrating with excitement.
“DAD! I gotta map!”
“That is very cool Eevee.” Eevee carefully puts her music box inside her gummy worm bag.
“We gotta go follow it!” She grabs her bag and Tim’s hand. Tim waves goodbye to the worker person with the hand holding my coffee. Eevee’s dragging us out of the store.
“Have you checked where the map is starting duckie?”
“I already know, it’s going to Dad’s shrine.” She looked at it for, like, three seconds. Tim shrugs at me.
“Eevee likes maps.”
“Whenever you said that I thought you meant ‘she’s a child and children love treasure maps’ not ‘she can recognize the layout of some random part of the city in seconds and know where to go.’” Tim hums in response. We’re only a few minutes from the shrine. I packed everything close together because I don’t particularly feel like walking all over Gotham. We get to Tim’s shrine pretty quickly. She runs up the hill, leaving the two of us behind.
“Do you still want this?” I forgot Tim was holding my coffee. I shrug.
“No, it’s almost gone.” 

“This is what Eevee’s father drank, I think.”
“Oh yeah, all Tim’s are addicted to caffeine,” I answer, going up the hill. Why is this up a hill? “So probably. You can try it if you want.” I wince as Tim’s face twitches.

“That does not taste like hot chocolate.” 

“I should’ve warned you. It doesn’t taste great.”
“Why would you willingly consume that?” I shrug.
“Because it helps you stay awake.”
“That tastes like poison.” When did Tim have time to go around tasting poison.
“It’s more of a drug, I think.” We’re at the top of the hill. “Do you want me to take my backpack? You’ve been carrying it awhile.”
“It’s fine bug. I’ve got it.”
“Eve what am I lookin’ for?”
“Look in your bag.” She zips open the gummy worm bag. She finds numerous bags of gummy worms. Eevee closes the bag then she puts on of them very seriously on the shrine. A crow hops onto Eevee’s shoulder and offers her a note stuck in it’s beak. Eevee accepts it and hands it to Tim to read.
“‘The other statue of Tim.’” Tim looks at me. “There is no other statue of me”
“Yes there is,” Eevee says seriously. “The Bob statue!” I try not to laugh. I think I’m hilarious. “It’s the statue this way!” I have a few of the buttons I bought the first time I went to the craft store. They have crows on them. I leave them on the shrine before following Eevee and Tim down.
“There is no statue here,” Tim says as we walk down the hill again and to the side.
“You’ll see,” I answer. Tim dumps the coffee cup in a garbage can on the way there. We get to Eevee whos in the back left corner by the weird tree we’ve decided to call the Bob statue.
“So I am a strange looking tree?”
“Yup. Cause tons of crows and stuff like to hide out here.” A safe place to go for people and whatnot that need it. Fits Rook better than I can admit. Eevee climbs up the tree. “You taught her how to do that, right?” Tim shakes his head no.

“She is Eevee. She is good at climbing.” Eevee makes a happy squeaking noise and comes down with the backpack of stuff.
“Eve, Eve it’s got crows on it!!” She’s beaming so big. “Look, it’s got crows all over!”
“I’m glad ya like it duckie. Tim’s the one who found it.”
“But Eve found everything to put inside it.”
“There’s stuff inside?”
“How about you wait till we get home until you open it?” I ask. There’s kind of a lot of stuff.
“Is this the treasure?”
“Yep.” Eevee smiles at me.
“Thanks cactus.”
“No problem duck.” 

Chapter Text

“I should not have gotten her this version of Uno.” Me and Tim each have over thirty cards. Eevee has two. She’s dragging this out to see how many draw 2+’s she can use. Apparently it’s a lot of them.
“Yes you should’ve,” Eevee argues happily. “It’s a very good treasure.”
“Is it your favorite treasure?” Tim asks as they play a wild. Eevee does a draw 2+. I place one. So does Tim.
“No, the music box is my favorite.” I hide my smile behind my cards. Eevee places another draw 2+. So do I. And so does Tim. I’ve only got one left. Eevee places one, I place a green one, and Tim sighs. Eevee giggles and I offer Tim a sympathetic smile. He draws sixteen cards. The deck is almost empty. We’ve already added in another stack of cards from another Uno.
“How much longer are ya gonna prolong our suffering duckie?” Eevee hums back, not giving me a real answer. She’s wearing her duckie hoodie. She looks adorable, as always.
“Dad can I get a silly pass if I win?”
“What are you going to use it for?”
“I wanna make you make dessert for lunch.”
“I want dessert for lunch,” I agree, putting down a skip. Tim can keep their cards.
“You both need vegetables.”
“In my universe no one needs vegetables,” I correct. Tim ignores me, and rightfully so cause that was a total lie. “Can we just eat soup for dinner or something?”
“Soup is not a vegetable.”
“No, it totally is. Well, some of them. Most of them are full of tons of vegetables.”
“Soup is weird tasting water.”
“Tim no.” I rub the left side of my face and sigh. “Eevee have you been deprived of the awesomeness of soup since Tim got you?”
“Not sure what soup is.”
“Tim for shame.”
“Can we have desserts for lunch?” Eevee asks.
“Yes, if you win.”
“I won while you guys were talkin’.” Unsurprising. “I want brownies!”
“I have a better idea. Have you ever had dirt cake?” Eevee looks at me, entirely unimpressed.
“I’m not eating dirt.”
“Tim, she hasn’t had dirt cake either?”
“I would not feed my child dirt. You can’t eat dirt either.” 

“None of you know what I’m talking about.”
“Eve why would you eat dirt?” Eevee sounds deeply concerned. “That’s yucky.”
“I didn’t eat-why do you guys think I’d eat dirt?”
“You’ve eaten worse stuff bug.” I ignore Tim.
“We’re going to get stuff so I can make dirt cake and you people will know what I mean.”
“There’s dirt outside,” Eevee offers cautiously.
“We’re not eating dirt.”

“I do not think it’s nice to gummy worms to make them be in a dirt cake.” 

“We’re going to eat them either way.”
“I’d want to be eaten in a cool way, not a boring way.”
“Dirt cakes don’t have dirt in them.”
“Then why are they called dirt cakes?” Tim asks, chiming in for the first time in awhile. Eevee looks at me from her spot in the cart, demanding answers.
“It’s a joke. I think. I don’t know, I wasn’t the one to name them.”
“Suspicious.” I sigh.
“I wouldn’t eat dirt Eevee.”
“You ate hot sauce on poptarts.”
“And it was delicious.” Eevee shakes her head disapprovingly. “This cake doesn’t have any dirt, I promise.” I grab two boxes of oreos, the chocolate ones. “Just oreos pudding and gummy worms. And sometimes chocolate chips, though I think I’m the only one who adds those.”
“And dirt.”
“There’s no dirt duckie.” Tim takes one of the boxes of oreos out of the cart and starts to look over the back. “What are you doing?”
“Looking to see if this is made with dirt.”
“Tim, I am not feeding your child dirt.” Tim hums back softly. “You two have no faith in me.”

“You are lucky charms with barbecue sauce instead of milk,” Eevee says, giving me another look.
“I thought it was ketchup!”
“That’s not better.”
“When did you eat that?” Tim sounds concerned. Neither of these two would know good food if it hit them in the face. I wonder how Tim would react if I threw a pie at his face. Eevee would probably like it.

“Listen, we’re making dirt cakes and you’ll eat your words.”
“No, we’ll be eating dirt.” I sigh. Eevee giggles from her spot in the cart.
“What else do we need bug?”
“We need soup, of some sort, and pudding mix.”
“Does soup have dirt in it to?” I ignore Eevee’s question. I throw a few boxes of pudding mix into the cart. I’m not sure where soup is. Or if they sell soup. I’d assume cans of soup are a thing in this universe but that kind of soup is pretty lame. Tim follows after me as I hunt for soup. I finally find some containers of it in the cold part of the store.

“Eevee’s not allergic to anything right?”
“No, she isn’t.” Well that’s good.
“What type of soup are we gettin’?” I shrug.
“I don’t know. Potato soup is good.”
“Eve potatoes are made of dirt .” I look at Eevee. I wait for her to start laughing at her own joke. She doesn’t.
“Eevee potatoes are not made of dirt.”
“Yes they are. They’re dirty rocks.”
“We’re getting potato soup. Tim you need to teach Eevee what is and is not dirt.”
“I think the priority should be teaching you not to each dirt.”
“I’m going to start making chicken nuggets sundaes again if you people keep assuming I eat dirt.” Eevee gags in an exaggerated way. “You never tried it, you don’t know if it tasted bad.”
“I do know. Cause I’ve got common senses.”
“Debateable,” I joke, ruffling her hair.

“It looks like dirt! But it’s oreos!”

“That’s why it’s called dirt cake duckie.”
“And it’s got gummy worms!”
“Yup.” Eevee stares intensely at her glass of dirt cake. I did a glass so she could see the layers of oreo and pudding.
“I love it.”
“Do you believe that I don’t eat dirt now?”
“Yes.” Eevee very seriously dips her spoon into the cup and take a bite. She reaches over to tap my arm three times. “I’m too busy to hug you, I’ve gotta eat dirt cake.”
“I knew ya’d like it.”
“Are potatoes made of oreos?”
“Nope, they just grow in dirt.”
“Interestin’.” I dig my spoon into my own dirt cake. Tim is watching Eevee eating it. She’s already super messy.
“See? I fed your child sugar, not dirt.”
“I am glad you both like it.”
“Does soup taste like this?” Eevee asks curiously.
“Nah but it’s still good. Even better than mayonnaise and popsicles.”
“Eve no .”

Chapter Text

“Dad, can you do a handstand?”
“I do not know what that is.” Eevee beams. “Do you want to show me?”
“YES!” I hide my face behind my file. Forget I exist, forget I exist, forget- “Eve, I wanna show you to.”
“I can do a handstand.”
“Hmmmm…” Eevee comes up right in front of my face. Her nose can almost tap against mine. Her hair is particularly frizzy today. “You’re lying.”
“I don’t want to learn to do a handstand.”
“Can you come watch?” I sigh.
“Sure duckie.” I look around. “We’re in a tree. Tim may be a crow but I don’t want either of you falling out a tree.”
“We can go on the ground!” I always forget this place isn’t just a tree. 

“We need to be fast Eevee, it’s almost bedtime.”
“Got it Dad!” We get to the ground, I take my files, and Tim seems more suspicious than before.
“What exactly is a handstand little crow?” Eevee walks on her hands around in a circle.
“It’s this!”
“How am I meant to do that?”
“You start like this,” Eevee says, coming up and going into the first stance. I look away, going back to my file. “And then you put your weight on your hands and flip over!” 

The entire premise of this case is ridiculous. I mean, who cares about who’s stealing from this bank, it’s insured, no one really lost anything. It’s obviously Jason anyway. Based on the string of robberies I’d assume this worlds Jason and Tim had a game going to see who could rob the most banks in a week. They did it at night when the least amount of people would get freaked out or traumatized. But Batman couldn’t leave well enough alone. Well, that Batman was decent, he’d probably leave it alone once he figured it out. 

Actually, this might’ve been a red herring to begin with. That Bruce was all ‘You won’t be here long’ and ‘You shouldn’t be dealing with any of our cases’ and ‘vague grunting noise that clearly shows displeasure’ or just ‘Eve.’ He was real good at getting a chockful of meaning in ‘Eve.’ It was rude. He absolutely seems like the type to give me a garbage case so I’ll be distracted.
“Eve.” I wonder if Tim could somehow untether me for, like, an hour. Then I can go throw a pie at that Bruce. I wouldn’t even need an hour just thirty seconds.
“Eve!” Eevee’s poking my arm.
“What’s up?”
“Look! Dad can do it!” Tim’s doing a handstand.
“Nice job Bob.” I bop Eevee’s nose. “Good job teaching them.”
“Now I’m gonna teach you!”
“Eevee, duckie, that is humanly impossible.”
“No it’s not. You got hands, so you can do a handstand.”
“I also have the balance of a disoriented duck.”
“You are not a duck silly,” Eevee says as she pokes my forehead. Tim comes over to sit by me. 

“Eve does not have to if they do not want to.”
“Please Eve?”
“Eevee,” I hold up my shaky hands, “I don’t think I can. You’d be surprised how bad I am at the whole balancing thing.”
“But you do all sorts of balancing stuff.”
“Yeah, cause I got good at overcompensating. I can’t do a handstand though.”
“But you can do a cartwheel.”
“Yep. And a one handed cartwheel.” Eevee sits in my lap. I put my file down and hug her. “And I can beat up tons of people.”
“And stab them?”
“Yep. I don’t really think handstands are a thing I can do.”
“Can you try?” I sigh.
“Yeah duckie, I’ll try.”
“You do not have to,” Tim reminds me, reading my file.
“Eh, it’s okay. I just wanted to make sure the ducks expectations are in the right place.”
“So you gotta do this,” Eevee say seriously, feet and hands in the right stance. “And then you go upside down!” I’m upside down for a few seconds, but my balance is off. And my hands are not supporting my weight well. I fall on my face. The grass is annoying. I roll over with a groan.
“And we’re done with that game,” I joke. My nose is bleeding, I think. I fell like right on my face . I sit up. There’s blood on my face. Eevee sits next to me and gently pokes my nose.
“Your nose is hurt.”
“Yup. It’s okay duckie.”
“Dad, can you fix Eve?” I’m fine. Tim looks up from his spot a few feet away and pales.
“There is blood coming out of your face .” Oh wondrous.
“It’s a nosebleed, they’re pretty standard for humans.”
“Blood never comes out of my face,” Eevee corrects. Tim grabs onto my face carefully and tilts it slightly to the side.
“If ya could let go of my face that’d be great.”
“Your face is broken.”
“My nose is not broken, just bleeding. It isn’t a big problem.”
“What do you mean it isn’t a big problem? It is very much a big problem.” Eevee stands up.
“I’m gonna go get the basket of stuff!”
“Good idea little crow.”
“Or I could go upstairs-”
“You are not allowed to move until we fix your nose.”
“Tim, dude, it isn’t even broken.” I pull away, getting my face back.
“Your nose does not have bones, how can you break it?”
“It has a bone, sort of, but that’s not the problem. I’ve broken my nose before but it’s fine now and I would like to get up thank you very much.”
“No moving.” I sigh.
“And this is why I don’t like handstands.”
“This happens everytime you do a handstand? Why would you do it if you knew this would happen?”
“I was exaggerating-”
“I got the basket of stuff!” Eevee yells as she hops over. She puts it by Tim and sits down. I grab one of the rag cloth things and hold it to my nose. Blood’s gross.
“I’m fine, it’ll stop bleeding in a few minutes.” Tim clearly doesn’t believe me. “You can’t do much for these, just chill the beans Bob.”
“Is your nose ever going to stop bleeding?” Eevee asks curiously.
“Please don’t put that thought in Bob’s head.” 

“Can’t humans die from blood loss?”
“What, Tim, dude, this is like nothing .” Tim narrows their eyes. I gesture at my arm, pinching my nose with the other hand. It’s coated in scars, mostly from stab wounds. “I got stabbed three times in this arm and didn’t have time to deal with it for half an hour, so I lost a lot of blood. That was a cause for concern.”
“You were stabbed three times and did not seek immediate medical help?”
“Not the point of this story. This is nothing. Zip, zap, zada. I’ll be fine.” I sneeze. I wince. Ow. That wasn’t great timing.
“Dad, is Eve grounded?”
“Why would I be grounded for accidentally getting hurt? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“That’s what grounding mean,” Eevee says, picking flowers. “It means ‘you got hurt probably on accident and now you are banished to the blanket fort till you get better.’”
“Well, it’s a good thing Tim isn’t my parent and legally can’t ground me.”
“I am not mortal and your laws have no impact on me.” I pull the cloth away from my face.
“See? I’m fine.”
“There was blood coming out of your face .”
“Yeah and now there isn’t. So I’m gonna go back to reading my file.”
“You are not allowed to do handstands.” Well, now I want to do one. “You are sure your face is fine?”
“Yes Bob. My face is fine.”
“Do you still need bandaids?” Eevee asks curiously. I sigh.
“Fine, I will put one bandaid on my nose and then I’m going back to reading.”
“What bandaid should you do little crow?” Eevee looks over the boxes inside the basket carefully.
“What about these green ones?” 

“The frog ones are good,” Tim agrees. “Or you could do these.” I grab my file from where Tim left it. I already figured out this one but I’d rather reread information then hear the crow dorks debate bandaids.
“Will you guys stop touching my face please?” I ask, giving Eevee a look.

“You said we could do bandaids!”
“I said one bandaid and I never said you could put it on. I have hands.”
“Yeah but they’re the thing that hurt your nose.” No, that was the handstand.

“Fine.” Eevee seriously puts the bandaid on the bridge of my nose.
“You’re cured!”
“Uh huh. Can I get up now?” 

“Hmmmm,” Eevee looks at me seriously. “Nope.” She looks at Tim. “Dad, can I have a band aid even though I didn’t get hurt?”
“Yes you can little crow.”
“I want a Bluey one to match Eve.” Eevee puts one on her arm. “See! We match.”
“Eevee, that’s an orange dog. Not a blue one.”
“That’s Bingo!” I look at Tim.
“This makin’ sense to you?”
“Bingo is a character in the show.”
“So the orange dog is in a show called Bluey? That makes sense.”
“Well you can’t call it Bingo,” Eevee says seriously, “it’s a show about Bluey.”
“Is Bluey also an orange dog?”
“No, she's blue silly cactus. Have you never seen Bluey?” I shrug at Eevee. I haven’t had a ton of times to catch up on children’s shows.
“Dad, can we have a movie night?”
“You need to sleep soon Eevee.”
“Please?” She gives Tim her best puppy dog eyes.
“If you and Eve want to.” They never say no when she does that.
“Sounds chill.” She beams and pulls on my hand.
“Come on, let’s go!” Tim winces.
“Maybe we can take the tablet down here.”
“I can walk Bob. And I am not sleeping on the ground.” I’ve done that more than anyone should be allowed to.
“But you need to be careful.”
“Tim, I’m really okay.” Tim doesn’t look convinced. I sigh. “I am capable of going back up into the treehouse.” We go back up and I flop onto the ground by the blanket fort. Eevee happily flops by me.
“Wanna watch the show in the blanket fort?”
“Yeah that sounds good.”
“Dad, can we eat popcorn? Cause popcorns a movie food.”
“You still need to eat dinner.”
“Can we eat popcorn for dinner?”
“Yeah, corns a vegetable,” I agree. “We should be able to eat it for dinner.”
“You can not just eat popcorn.”
“Boooooo. You’re real lame Bob.” Tim ignores my complaint.
“Can we have popcorn and soup?” Eevee asks.
“That’s acceptable.”
“Do you want us to wait to stay watchin’?”
“No, you can start little crow.” I flop inside the blanket fort. Eevee comes back with a tablet and turns on Bluey. It’s a show about dancing cartoon dogs. It looks cute. Eevee seriously hands me a crow blanket. She curls up next to me.
“This is a good episode.”
“I believe ya ducky.” Tim carefully hands Eevee soup. This feels like a recipe for disaster. “I’ve been left to starve and waste away.” 

“Yours is still heating up.”
“Excuses.” Eevee giggles. I would mess with her hair but I’d rather not risk her spilling soup everywhere. Tim leaves again, presumably to get my food. The dad dog has frozen his dog child with a xylophone.
“He’s gonna turn her into a garden gnome,” Eevee whispers to me.
“Oh good to know.”
“It’s rude to turn people into garden gnomes.”
“I agree. That’s why you should only do it to rude people. Like Tim!”
“Dad is not rude silly cactus.”
“I know, I’m just kiddin’ silly child.” Tim’s back and hands me soup. “Thanks rude dude.” Eevee giggles again.
“I like when we call them dude.”
“I am more than aware,” Tim jokes back before they sit by Eevee.
“When we’re done eatin’ soup can we have popcorn?”
“Yes you can little crow.” Tim looks at me.
“I’m eating, I’m eating.”
“And your nose is fine?”
“No it started bleeding while you were gone and then an elephant walked in and said I was doomed to die of blood loss.” Eevee smiles.
“That’s silly Eve.”
“I am a silly cactus.”
“You’re also an adorable cactus.” I give Tim a half hearted glare.
“I’m not adorable and never have been.”
“You and Eevee are the same person. Eevee is adorable.”
“Yeah well Eevee’s Eevee.” The next episode of the show starts. “How short are these things?”
“They’re super duper short, like seven of the minutes,” Eevee helpfully informs me. That’s got to be easier for her to keep track of. The kids attention span doesn’t last much longer than that, except for Uno and explosions involving microwaves. And crow related things. “This one’s silly.” I eat some of the soup. Soup is great. Eevee’s mouthing some of the words of the show. It’s cute.

“You’re not even gonna put me to sleep first?”
“Oh, yeah, I guess we could.” I snort. The kid isn’t playing. Tim looks at me.
“Is it normal for humans to have cats in their stomach?” He asks quietly.
“No, that’s never happened. Ever.”
“Good.”
“Also not normal to give someone surgery without pain meds.”
“I would hope not.” 

“Bingo’s gonna fix it,” Eevee tells me importantly. “Bingo’s the orange one.”
“Got it duckie.” The guy’s name is Telemachus. That’s even worse than Eve. Bingo does fix everything. Eevee has eaten all of her soup and puts the bowl to the side. I finish half of mine and put it out of the way.
“Dad, can we play keepy uppy soon?”
“We can play tomorrow if you want to little crow.”
“Keepy uppy is fun,” Eevee tells me, rubbing her eyes. She’s falling asleep fast. Me and Tim stay quiet. She mumbles comments sometimes. Stuff like ‘Bingo isn’t a newspaper’ and ‘silly billys.’ She’s adorable.

“There’s too many toys on the ground!”
“Who is responsible for all this mess?” 

“My, my, all these toys left lying around sure do make it difficult to keep the balloon up.”
“We know!”
“Can you imagine how easy this would be if you tidied them all away?”
“That isn’t helping.”
“I don’t gotta tidy toys,” Eevee mumbles softly. “Magic does it.”
“I’m pretty sure Tim does it.”
“Uh huh. An Dad is magic.” I mess with her hair gently. She’s almost asleep. By the end of the episode she’s out.
“Do you want me to move her?”
“It’s fine, she’s good here. I do want my popcorn though.”
“You did not eat your soup.”
“I ate most of it.” 

“You need to eat things not covered in condiments.”
“Depends on what ya count as a condiment. Technically barbecue sauce and caramel sauce aren’t condiments.”
“I’m pretty sure they are bug.”
“Nah, cause a condiment is something that isn’t a whole meal on it’s own.”
“...those are not meals.”
“If you’re a wimp.”
“Eat your soup.” 

“Fine, but I want popcorn.”
“I will make you popcorn if you eat more of your soup.”
“You’re really invested in how much soup I eat for a deity.”
“You are my patron, it is my job.”
“I’m pretty sure most gods don’t decide to take care of everyone who leaves a gift on their shrine.”
“I have decided to.” I eat some of the soup.
“And now I demand popcorn.”
“No problem bug.” Tim leaves to go make it. The orange dog is currently wandering around yelling while banging pots and pans together.
“Who wants bacon?”
“It’s the middle of the night!”
“Who wants night bacon?” I smile. It’s cute and silly. Eevee’s also cute and silly. The entire show is cute. The kids voices are adorable and little. Eevee’s super asleep. She’s coated in blankets. A little blanket pile. An adorable little blanket pile. She’s using my arm as a pillow. I’m trapped. It’s a good way to be trapped. I’ve got some blankets too. They’re warm. Warms good. I let my eyes close. I’ll just listen to the ridiculous cartoon dogs. I want to be able to tell Eevee I watched it. At least some of it. Right now’s comfortable. Better than sleeping on the ground of some random universe. A lot better.

Chapter Text

“Can we play chess?” I was crying. I can’t hide that I was crying. I still feel it. I can still feel her . Tim’s sitting close to Eevee’s room. They do that a lot, to make sure she’s okay while she’s asleep. He looks worried about me. This time they’re probably right to be.
“Yes we can bug.”
“Can we go down? Like out of the treehouse.” Tim nods. “Meet me down there.” 

I don’t want to talk yet, or watch them worry. I’ve got to ask a question. I don’t know if I’ll get an answer. I don’t think I’m going to get the answer I want. But I’ve got to ask. I go down the treehouse and lean against the tree. The grass is soft. There’s flowers scattered around. I pull on the sleeve of my hoodie. I’m worried. They aren’t okay. I need them to be okay. Tim’s coming down. They hand me a glass of water and put down the chessboard. It’s one of the ones that folds in the middle, so you can put all the pieces inside it. I drink some of the water while they set it up. It’s dark outside. It’s less suffocating than the treehouse. 

It’s dark where she is. They don’t have the option to turn on a light. They don’t have anyone to talk to or play chess with. It doesn’t have chess at all. Or anything to do. It’s suffocating, where she is, but she’s so used to suffocation I don’t think it bothers them anymore. You get used to hurt, afterall awhile. But that doesn’t mean it’s good. That doesn’t mean it’s okay to deal with. Just because something is normal doesn’t mean it’s okay, just because it’s her normal doesn’t mean-
“Do you want to go first?” I stare at the board. Right. We’re playing chess.

“Yeah.” I move a pawn forward. Tim does the same. I move another pawn. It’s a passive move. Tim moves a horse forward. I do move mine. I wait for Tim to move. They move their bishop. “Can I ask a question?”
“Yes, you can.”
“When you tethered me here did you get all of me? Was anything-” Tim’s face is weird and he isn’t getting it and I need them to get it. “I still feel like I’m in the other universes.” I rush, trying to get all the words out before Tim calls me crazy. “I know what it feels like to be traumatized and stuck in the bad stuff. This, this isn’t that Tim. This is different. I keep getting these dreams. They aren’t just replaying old stuff. It’s new things. It’s like I can go and watch the people I used to know. But only when they’re feeling something intensely.” Fear, generally fear. “It’s not dreams. I don’t think it can be dreams.” I clench one hand around my other fist. I need Tim to listen. I need Tim to believe me. I need to know I’m not nuts.

“That is possible.” I exhale slowly. It’s okay. I’m okay. “What are you seeing?”
“That doesn’t matter-Well, it does matter. But only one of the people matter. Right now.” I need Tim to care about her. I’m not sure how to get all of them, all of it, into words. “I only knew it for like five days. Maybe more. I don’t know. I didn’t have the firmest grasp of time.” It was the world right after the Joker Junior disaster. Joker Junior is such a stupid name for such an awful thing. I always land in the same place when I fall, just in a new universe. I landed in Arkham. In their universe. “I don’t know how to start.” I’ve never talked about it. I mean, I never needed to talk about her. I tried to shove them out of my head.
“You could start at the beginning?”
“They were alone.” That feels like the only good way to start. That’s the beginning. It can’t be the end. “She was totally, entirely, alone. They were waiting. For their Jason. I think it would’ve left with anyone who came though. She…” I shut my eyes. I hate thinking about them. Because they’re still alone and I still can’t fix it. “She had been waiting for a long time. I don’t know how long, she didn’t either, but I don’t think anyone’s ever coming for her.”
“Who was she?” Tim clearly doesn’t know what to ask. Or say. I’m not giving good information.
“They’re another version of me and Eevee. I don’t know what happened in its world but it was bad . Really, really bad. She didn’t want to talk about it but they told me their Jason died and it had to get him back. Which probably means Ra’s was involved.” Tim’s face twitches. Eevee’s Ra’s killed her dad. Eevee’s Joker hurt her. I need Tim to be mad about them for hurting it too, I need him to care about them too. “I know Joker was. Their Arkham was abandoned and I think she and Joker had something to do with it. To get her Dad back she had to do stuff. They wouldn’t tell me what. But they got their Jason back.” That should be the end of the story, the somewhat happy ending. But it isn’t. “He didn’t want anything to do with them after that. Her Tim died, saving them and Jason. Her dad abandoned her in Arkham.” Tim’s face is weird. I don’t know if it’s good weird or bad weird or ‘I don’t really care’ weird. My hands are shaking, more than normal. “I don’t know what happened, exactly. I just know that I had a dream-or whatever it’s called-and she’s terrified. Like really really scared. Something bad happened. I don’t know what but it was bad. It kept trying to call their Jason,” they didn’t have a phone last time I was there but that isn’t the point, “and he wasn’t picking up. Is-Can you bring her here?”
“Eve-”
“Tim, listen, it isn’t like she’s safe. Jason didn’t put it there to keep it safe, he put them there because it’s an out of the way disaster. She doesn’t even have a flashlight that works, or a halfway decent jacket. They looked like they were starving, whenever I first got there and it’s just gotten worse. She-she’s scared. I mean, terrified. They were terrified of me, and they helped anyway. It was beyond touchstarved, I mean the first time I hugged her she started crying.” Sobbing, sobbing would be a better word for it.
“Bug-”
“She won’t be in the way or anything.” I just need her here. “I could figure out something here, I could go with her or to make sure they’re okay. Or I could just go and you could keep it instead of me.” I don’t want to be alone again, I really don’t want to be alone again, but better me than her. “Listen, she’s a good person, a good kid. They won’t be stupid and annoying like I am. They won’t run off if they get mad, she won’t lie about how much sleep she needs, they won’t blow anything up, it won’t get stabbed. They’ll be way easier to be around and take care of. Just, I just need to know she’s okay. Because she isn’t right now Tim, they’re so far from okay.”
“You do not need to leave.”
“I will, if means she’s okay. I need her to be okay.”
“They will be. I can get her here. It can stay here with Eevee and me and you.” I’m waiting for Tim to say they’re kidding. Or that it’s a joke. Or that he doesn’t mean it, or they changed their mind. Tim doesn’t say anything. I reach over the chessboard to hug them. They hug me back.
“Sorry. Didn’t do the three taps.”
“It’s okay bug.” I’m trying so hard not to cry. They’re going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay. “I can’t bring them yet. But I should be able to in a week. At the most.” Okay. That’s okay. I hope they’ll be okay until then. “What’s its name?”
“Joey. Her name is Joey.”

Chapter Text

“What are you looking for?” I turn to smile at Dad.
“I’m not looking for anything anymore. I already found it.”
“Well what did you find?” Dad asks as he sits next to me. The ground is comfortable. The rug is soft.

“It’s a frog. A tree frog.” 

It’s stuck onto the window. It’s sticky like syrup or glue. I’ve decided to name him Heqet. He’s green. A bright green, like fake grass or green paint. Not dark green paint, bright green like little kids used. His eyes are big, big and round like plates or moons. His tongue keeps sticking out. In. Out. In. Out. The window is stained with rain. It’s raining outside. It’s Gotham. Gotham rains a lot. Or snows a lot. It’s going to start snowing soon. The frog moves forward. It’s moving slowly. Dragging. I hope the frog isn’t cold. I think it’s okay.

“It’s a cool looking frog.” I nod.
“It’s been a long time since I saw a frog.” 

I’m not all the way sure when I last saw a frog. It was a long time ago. I like frogs. They’re interesting. There are over 6000 species of frog. That’s a lot of frogs. Frogs need to be wet all the time. That’s because they need to be wet to breathe. I think it’d be interesting to breathe through my skin. Frogs can’t be underwater forever though. They need it to be alive but they can’t stay in it all the time. That seems like it’d be scary. Knowing you can’t stay in one place forever, cause it can hurt you or kill you, but knowing you still need the good stuff from it. It sounds hard. Frogs do it though, frogs are good at surviving. I like frogs.

“How long have you been watching it?”
“A while. Since before you were making breakfast.”
“It’s almost lunch, we ate breakfast awhile ago.” I forgot about that.
“Since before you were making lunch,” I correct.

“Do you want to bring the frog inside?”

I look at the frog. It is stuck to the window. But he is choosing to be stuck there. He can go if he wants to. He is sticky, not stuck. If I took him inside he couldn’t go out again unless someone helped him. That isn’t a very good feeling. The rain is falling around the frog. He looks happy. At least I think he looks happy. I don’t really know if he’s happy. I don’t think frogs can smile. It’d be funny if they could though. I don’t think a smile would fit on a frog’s face right.
“No, I don’t think that’d be very nice. He’s supposed to be outside.” 

“That makes sense.” Dad is still sitting with me. I don’t want him to go. “You wanna eat in here?”
“Will you eat here too?”
“Yeah I can Eve.” I like being called Eve. I wasn’t called Eve for a long time.

I’m not sure how long it was. People have told me. But that’s hard to remember. I remember what I got called instead of Eve. Most of the names anyway. There were a lot of different names. I do not know if all of them counted as names. Some of them were not meant to be names. They were solely adjectives. Liar. Untrustworthy. Revolting. Violent. Unpredictable. That last one never made sense to me. Most of them did not make sense to me. We are all liars. I do not think it is an insult at this point. Simply a fact. None of us are trustworthy. That is fine. We do not have to be. I am not more violent than anyone else. I was not as violent as Dad. The others have killed. Or gotten close. I just didn’t stop. I do not think that is revolting. 

I was very predictable. I was to Tim, at least. And Steph. I was predictable to the people who listened. Most people did not listen. But that is not entirely my fault. It was, partially. I stopped trying to explain. It became too convoluted. I did not want to risk Dad, by explaining. Or asking for help. But I was never unpredictable. Not until the end. Every time I have been called unpredictable was before the end. It was illogical. It does not make sense to me now and did not make sense to me then. I might just not understand. There might be some key part to the puzzle I can not see. A switch I need to flip. Then it would all make sense. But I can not see a puzzle piece. Or a switch. I am not good at seeing those.

Tim listened though. He listened even though I don’t think he really believed me all the way. That was okay. I didn’t need him to. I just wanted someone to listen while I talked. I shouldn’t have told him though. He shouldn’t have listened. They were all right, not to listen. Because he listened. And he died. And I couldn’t stop it. Or change it. He just died. Because he listened to me. He must’ve believed me, at least enough to go looking for me and Dad. But he shouldn’t have listened. I wish he hadn’t listened.

“Eve.” I turn and look. Dad. Jason. “You okay?” I nod.
“I am fine. I was thinking.” I have food now. That’s good. Tacos are good.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Names.” Tim’s name and my names and the names of people who are dead because of me.
“You do have a lot of names. I,” Dad jokes while he messes with my hair a bit, “still think I need more pictures of when you were Red Hood. You are the only person allowed to steal my thing.”
“Your thing is a bucket,” I offer simply. “On your head.”
“It’s a very cool bucket.” That is debatable. “Want me to get your hair out of your face?”
“It is in my face because you made it all wishy washy.”
“Yep. Want me to fix it?”
“Can you braid it?”
“Sure.” I like when my hair is in a braid. My hair is long. And gray. Almost half of it is gray. It looks cooler in a braid. It looks silly otherwise. Dad’s hair is streaked with gray too. A lot more gray than before. But mine still has the most. The frog is still on the window. His name is Heqet. I decide he gets to have two names. A good name. His name is Heqet. Also his other name is Smart. That’s a good name. It doesn’t sound very much like a name but that is okay. If bad adjectives can be names I think good ones should be names to. 

I think it would be interesting to be a frog. I think it would be a bit exhausting. Everything would be so big and frogs are so small. And they have to eat flies. I take a bit of my taco. I like tacos more than flies. Or any type of bugs. But I would like sticking to walls. Like spiderman. Or being able to be underwater for a long time. Or being on a lilypad. Sitting on a lilypad while being a frog seems like a very good thing to do. Comfortable. That is a spot where everything is right in the universe, for a frog at least. I think that everyone has a spot like that. A spot they are supposed to be. I don’t think everyone gets to see that spot though. The universe is a bit too big for that.
“I’m done.” I tilt my head from the left to the right. I like the weight of the braid.
“Thanks Dad.”
“No problem kid.” I wrinkle my nose a bit. That is a silly nickname. I’m not really a kid. I’m not really an adult either. I’m just Eve. I like the nickname anyway. 

“Steph?”
“What’s up V?” That is a new name. Stephanie pauses the tv. We were watching a documentary. It’s about frogs.
“Can we make waffles?”
“Now that’s a fantastic idea.” Steph stands up and stretches. Her bones make popping noises. Pop, pop, pop, like popcorn. Or popping rocks. Those are a fun candy. “Wanna help me?” I nod. I stand up from the couch. The carpet is soft. And my socks are soft. Both of those things are good. The couch is soft but you can’t make waffles on the couch. The kitchen floor is colder than the living room. You can’t have rugs in a kitchen, they’d get all messy. I go to the pantry and pull the doors open. They make squeaky noises. The ground is not very comfortable for sitting but all the stuff I want is on the bottom shelf. I’m not sure what we need. I know we need flour. The bag of it is heavy. I try to make sure it doesn’t get any flour stuff on the ground when I set it down. “You see the sugar Eve?”
“I do.” I grab the white and brown sugar. I set them down by the flour. They look nice, in a line like that. Like ducks in a row. I’m not sure why people say that. Ducks don’t sit in rows. At least I’ve never seen a duck in a row.
“We just need the white one V.”
“Oh, okay.” I pick up the brown bag and put it back on the shelf. It looks lonely. It’s not by the other two anymore. I move the powdered sugar closer to it. Now it isn’t lonely anymore. 

“Steph? Can we use chocolate chips?”
“Waffles aren’t waffles without them.” That is somewhat true. I don’t think there are any in the pantry. Dad likes to put them in the freezer, so they’re cold. I carefully pick up the flour and put it on the counter by Stephanie. She’s gotten out some other stuff. I put the flour in the line with the other things. I go back and carefully pick up the brown sugar. Now all the things are together. “Can you get the chocolate chips for me Eve?”
“Yeah I can.” Steph has a good smile. I go to the freezer. It makes a noise when you pull it open. I can see a bunch of stuff. I can see frozen peas and frozen meal things. And frozen meat, and also some ice cubes. And ice cream. I like ice cream. I pull it out. It’s chocolate and cherry. That’s what the label thing says. “Steph, can we eat ice cream?”
“Yeah, after we make waffles.” Oh I forgot we’re making waffles. I look at the stuff on the counter. We got everything there. There’s the sugar, and the flour right next to each other. There’s baking powder and butter. Stephanie got out the vanilla extract too. We’re missing some stuff. Steph is getting out the waffle maker and measuring cups and a bowl. I was by the fridge. No, I’m at the freezer. I put the ice cream back and look at the freezer. What do I need out of the freezer? What do waffles need out of the freezer?
“Steph, am I looking for chocolate chips?”
“Yeah, you are. Do you see any V?” I like that nickname. It sounds cool. I shake my head no.
“I don’t see any. I think we’re out.” 

“You wanna go on a quest, a quest for chocolate chips?”
“It’s late.”
“Yeah, almost 2 am. But we can find a store that’s open.” Okay. I close the freezer and come stand by Steph. I don’t know if I want to go. I wasn’t planning to go on a quest right now.
“What if Dad comes back and we aren’t here?”
“We’ll leave a note. We’ll be back before he is.” I debate that. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Steph assures me. I don’t know. I want waffles. I don’t mind going. I just want to know for sure that it’ll be okay with Dad. I think it will be. And I want waffles.
“We can go. But we gotta be fast.”
“Sounds good frog.” Frog is the normal nickname. I am not sure why. I probably used to know but forgot. That happens a lot. 

The thunder is loud, for a moment. Crashing like pots and pans and strainers when you open the cabinet doors and they all fall out, toppling over like disorganized towers. I look out the window in the kitchen. Rain’s pulling down it. Streaks of it. Rivers of rain. They flood down the window. It starts at the top then the drops go down the lines, forming bigger and bigger drops until they fall all the way down. Then they go all the way down the window.
“Steph?”
“What’s up frog?”
“Where does the water go, once it’s out the window?”
“It goes down the building, probably, all the way to the bottom at the sidewalk.”
“Then it goes down a drain thing?”
“Yep.” Okay. That makes sense. “You go get ready and I’ll figure out where your dad’s umbrella is.” 

That sounds like a good plan. The rug in the living room feels better than the tiles in the kitchen. The rug’s in the hallway too. But not in my room, my room just has boards. They’re cold. But I’ve got socks, socks are good. I pull my closet door open. It doesn’t make any noise, that’s good. I’ve got a bunch of stuff in my closet. I’ve got shirts and hoodies. I also have coats and hats and stuff. And mittens. I grab some of the mittens. Those were on the ground, cause I kinda forgot to put them away. But that’s okay. 

The ground is not very comfortable but I don’t want to stand any longer. I pull the mittens on one hand. They’re black. That’s a good color. I pull the other one on. They’re soft, which is good. And they’re warm. They’re not very waterproof, but that’s okay. I like them anyway. They don’t need to be good at everything to be good. I’m not sure why I’m wearing mittens. I look out the window. It’s raining. Maybe I’m going outside? I don’t think so. Not just to be in the rain anyway. Maybe for another reason? I look at my hands again. They aren’t cold, so I don’t think I came in here just for mittens. I’m hungry, but I don’t think that’s why I’m in my room.

I know Dad isn’t here. He’s going and patrolling and stuff. It’s the first time he’s done that since he’s been back. Since we’ve been back. I don’t want him to be gone. I really really don’t want him to be doing dangerous stuff. I want him to be home. But he isn’t. He’s going to come back soon. Since Dad isn’t here, someone else probably is. Stephanie probably is. I like her, she’s fun. And nice. And she reminds me of stuff without getting annoyed. And we make waffles. I really like waffles. I should go find her, and ask if we can make some. I don’t know if we have those though. If we don’t have chocolate chips then we should probably go to a store to get some. I look at my hands. That’s probably why I was getting ready. I think so. I go out of my room to ask Steph. She’s by the door with Dad’s umbrella.
“Are we going to get chocolate chips?”
“Yep, we are.” Oh okay.
“I’ll be right back.” I’m back in my room. I need to grab a coat, because it’s cold. And because it’s raining. I grab the one on my bed. I forgot to hang it up earlier, I think. I carry it to the living room and put it on there. My shoes are by the door. I put those on. I didn’t forget anything, I don’t think.
“You ready to go?” I nod at Steph. “Our quest has officially started.”
“To get chocolate chips?”
“Yep!” I hold onto Steph’s hand as we walk downstairs.
“It’s raining.”
“Yeah, it is frog. What’s your favorite stuff to do in the rain?” I shrug.
“I just like watching it.”
“That’s a good thing to do when it rains.” Steph has an umbrella.
“How far do we need to walk?”
“Only a couple blocks. That okay with you?”
“Yeah, it is.” I swing my arm and Steph’s back and forth a bit. “Was your day good?”
“It was. I took a real dumb test but I think I did good on it.”
“You definitely did. You’re really smart.” She smiles.
“Thanks V.” That’s a new nickname. I don’t know when that started. “What do you remember about your day?”
“Dad made food and we saw a frog. Then he left. And now we’re making waffles.”
“What was the best part of that stuff?”
“The frog. But that’s just because we haven’t finished making waffles yet. Because we’ve got to finish our quest.”
“What type of frog was it?”
“It was a tree frog. I think.” There’s puddles on the sidewalk. There’s also puddles on the road. There’s a lot of water. There’s water on the umbrella. It’s going pit-pat-pit-pat. Over and over. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.
“Careful V.” I almost tripped.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Steph has a nice smile. “What are you thinking about?”
“The umbrella is loud.”

“Do you want to close it?”
“No, it’s okay. It’s just loud.” It’s an okay kind of loud but it still makes it really hard to pay attention to stuff like walking. Steph swings our arms back and forth just a bit. I like when she does that. “Are we going to get stuff for waffles?”
“Yep! We’re getting chocolate chips.”
“Chocolate chip waffles are the best ones.”
“Exactly. We’re here frog.” Oh that’s good.
“I can hold the umbrella if you want.” I don’t want her to hold it, it’s wet and that’s not a good feeling.
“It’s okay, we can just put it in the cart.” She squeezes my hand once before letting go to get a cart. This store is loud. The lights are loud. It’s mostly empty though, that’s good. No loud people. The space in front of us is clear all the way to the back wall. That feels really long. It isn’t that clear anywhere else. I look away from it. Steph’s right by me. She’s putting the umbrella in the cart. I go by her and hold onto her hand when it goes to her side. She squeezes it once. “You okay?”
“Uh huh.”
“You remember what we’re looking for?”
“Chocolate chips?”
“Exactly. Where do you think we’ll find them?”
“In the freezer part?” That’s where Dad keeps his chocolate chips. 

“We can check there first.” I stay close to Steph as we walk forward. Our feet are loud and squelchy on the ground. The ground is really white. It hurts my eyes. “We’re going to turn left here, okay?”
“Okay.” We walk down the main part of the frozen stuff. “I don’t see any.”
“Where should we look next?” I shrug.
“Baking stuff?”
“That’s a good plan.” I’m glad I came up with a good plan. I keep my eyes half shut while we walk forward. My shirt feels bad and my hair is sticky and wet. It feels like it’s stuck on me. Stuck to my skin like a really gross glue. It’s stringy. It’s bad. My mittens feel bad too, they’re all wet. I don’t like it . “We’re turning V.” Okay. That’s a thing I can do. We turn into an aisle. It’s got a lot of things in lines, in brightly colored packages. I don’t want to read the words on them. I don’t like the fonts they use, they hurt my eyes. And the colors, the colors hurt too. Steph stops. I stop too and keep my eyes shut. It isn’t all the way dark, when I shut my eyes. 

It’s more like a brownish black. Like the color of something dark coated in another dark thing till you’re not sure what it is anymore. The floaters behind my eyes are interesting. They move around. They’re rainbow colored. Flashes and blobs that shift so fast I can’t really keep track of them. They’re weird. They’re better than the bright lights. The lights are not just bright. That does not describe them accurately.

The lights are like screaming. The clashing of something metal and loud and strong. It’s like the smell of bleach, harsh and too strong. It’s like the feeling of tulle against skin. Itchy and uncomfortable and painful. It looks how lime or lemon juice tastes. Sharp and tart and too much all at once. They’re still there, even as my eyes are closed. I want them to go away. Orange soft lights are better. They sound like music and smell like candles. Good candles, not the gross ones. I can’t remember what kind of candles I like. But I know I like some of them.
“Steph?”
“Yeah Eve?” 

“Can we go look at candles?”
“Sure thing froggie.” There’s chocolate chips in the cart now. 

“Steph? Was your day good?”
“It was. I had to take a test, but I think I did okay.”
“You definitely did. You’re really smart.”
“Thanks.”
“What was the test about?”
“Math.” I wrinkle my nose. “Exactly.”
“I’m sure you still did good.” 

“What have you been doing?”
“I read my frog book.” We turn. I’m not all the way sure where we’re going. “I read about tree frogs. I saw one earlier. It was cool.”
“What’s your favorite thing about tree frogs?”
“I like what they look like. They look cool. What’s your favorite animal?”
“Unicorns.” I smile. Steph’s silly. “They’re stabby horses, the best animal possible.”
“Horses aren’t very good at existing. They die really easy.”
“Yeah, but they’re still cool.” That’s true.
“They go fast. Steph, why are we at the candles?”
“To look at candles. You said you wanted to get some.” Oh that’s fun. I like candles. I’m not sure what type of candles I like though. “Wanna smell this one?” I take it from Steph and hold it.
“What type is it?”
“Some sort of chocolate one.” I take off the lid. I wrinkle my nose in a smile. It made a popping noise. That’s a great noise. I smell it carefully. It smells really good, but it doesn’t smell like chocolate. It smells how chocolate chapstick tastes. I like it. It’s a tiny one, it can fit in the palm of my hand. I put the lid on and take it off. Pop. On and off. Pop. That’s a very good noise.
“Can we get this one?”
“Yeah we can frog.”
“What one are you gonna get?”
“Which one do you think I should get?” I look over them. They’re all over the shelves in lines and lines and lines. There’s different sizes and colors and shapes. Some of them are shaped like silly things. I walk down the aisle slowly. Some of them are shaped like fish or mugs or bowls. I think about how Stephanie’s apartment looks. I grab one that’s a purple cylinder and hand it to her.
“You can put it on your shelf, the one in your room. Cause you had one like this there before but it’s all out.” Steph smiles and hugs me.
“Good choice.” I hug her back.
“Thanks.” I did a good job. That’s good. “Are we ready to go now?”
“Yep!” That’s good. I wanna get back so I can wait for Dad.

“Waffles are really good. And frogs.”
“Do you want more waffles?” I shake my head no. Sitting with Steph is comfortable. Her hoodie is soft, she’s a good pillow.
“I’m full. I just like saying waffles are good.” I rub my eyes. “Can we turn the show down a little?”
“Course V.” That’s a new nickname. I like it. I like the show too, it’s about jellyfish, but it’s really loud. Jellyfish are cool. They aren’t as cool as frogs but they are cool. They float around like little bubbles or plastic bags. “You keep yawning.”
“I do?”
“Yep,” Steph answers, popping the P. “You’re sleepy.”
“But I can keep waiting for Dad?”
“You can.” Steph has good hugs. “He’s gonna be okay.” I don’t answer. 

He wasn’t okay. He was dead. He was all the way dead, and we buried him, and then he was back but he might as well have been dead. And I had to do everything to take him back. Get him back, but it was more like taking. I didn’t do a very good job. I was good at it in the beginning. I was good until I wasn’t. Dad’s back and I don’t want him to be dead again. Even if he does die I’ll never believe it. I believed it the first time and I was wrong and I’ll never believe he’s dead again. I’ll spend forever looking and wondering and trying to find him, even if he is gone. I want him to come home.

“Eve? You with me?” I nod yes. “Was it worth going on a quest to get chocolate chips?”
“They were very good waffles,” I whisper quietly back. “You make the best waffles.”
“Thanks frog.”
“Did you like the waffles?”
“Yep, I do.”
“Do we always make waffles when you come over?”
“Pretty much every time. Sometimes you don’t want waffles, but you do most the time.”
“Cause I like waffles?”

“Exactly.” I like when Steph messes with my hair. People do that a lot. I hear the door open and turn around. Dad’s back and he looks okay and he isn’t limping and he’s okay. He’s okay . I move away from Steph to check on Dad. Dad gives really good hugs.
“You okay Eve?”
“I am. You didn’t get hurt?”
“No, I didn’t.” I hug him again. I pull away carefully. “What were you and Steph up to?”
“We went on a waffle quest and got candles.” I try not to yawn. I don’t want to look tired.
“We went to Walmart and got chocolate chips and candles,” Steph agrees. “It went well?”
“Yeah, it was slow.” That’s good. I want it to be slow. “You,” Dad tells me half serious, “were supposed to be asleep awhile ago.”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I didn’t think there was any point trying to get her to sleep,” Steph says, coming closer to the door where we are, “it’d just be up worrying till you got back.” I’m glad Steph didn’t try to make me sleep. That would’ve been scary, being alone while I didn’t know where Dad was. “But you should go black out froggie.” I hug Steph. She hugs me back.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” She hugs me tighter. It feels good, safe. “I’ll always come Eve.” I hug Dad too.
“You promise you’re all the way okay?”
“I promise. Now go sleep kid.” I rub my left eye with the back of my hand as I pull away.
“Can I have a blanket?”
“You can always have a blanket.”
“Can I have one right now?
“Yeah, you can.” That’s good, I like blankets.

Libraries are good places to hide. They’re like little nests, but for people. They have shiny things, like books and puzzles and plants. They have so many books. Books line the shelves, multiplying across the building. They sit happily in rows, grouped together. They’re little families, books made by the same authors are close together, and books made by similar named authors are together too. Those are extended family. But I don’t know where this book goes. I found it on the ground by a shelf but I don’t know where to put it. 

I’m walking down the stairs. They’re tall stairs. I don’t know where the elevator is. Maybe it’s downstairs? Well, that wouldn’t make much sense. They have to go up and go down. They can’t just stay on one floor. Otherwise they’d be useless. No, they wouldn’t be useless. That isn’t a nice thought. They’d just be a room. So they’d be useless as an elevator but very useful as a room. It’s okay to be useless at some stuff if you’re useful at other things. I’m at the bottom of the stairs. I like this floor, it’s a rug. But it isn’t a very soft rug. That’s okay, I think it’d be hard to move around on a soft rug for some people. All the people should be able to come to a library. That’s why we have libraries.

The book I have is a book for kids. That means it should go in the childrens section. I look behind me. That’s the entrance. That is not helpful. There are no books that way, just a desk. There’s a librarian there. I could ask them where the book goes. I don’t want to. I want to take it home all by myself. And they might look a little scary. I turn back around. There are stairs but there are more things. There is a room in front past the stairs. It’s a big room. I want to go in there, it has bean bags. I can go there after I get the book home. To the left down the way a bit is another room. 

It has pretty lights. They look like fairy lights. They go all around the big arched doorway. I walk that direction. That’s better than beanbags. I stop under the arch to look up at it. The lights fade in and out gently, like they’re breathing all on their own. They’re very pretty. I like them. I walk through the arc. I’ve got to find where the book goes. This room is really big. There’s shelves everywhere. No, not quite everywhere. Shelves create little rooms and leave alone big and little aisles. I walk forward to the first little room with three walls. There’s a box of magnetic letters and things like that. Toys. There’s a box of toys. This is where the children’s books are.

“Almost home,” I whisper quietly to the book in my hands. 

I don’t know where the book goes. But I’m going to find it. I walk past that little room and down the big aisle between shelves. I pause and tilt my head. There’s a little mat thing on the ground. There are a lot of them. They are all different colors. They are like a rainbow. They are all mixed with white. I carefully tap one with my foot and it squelches and moves around within the cover of the mat. I wrinkle my nose in a smile and do it again. Inside the matt is some sort of liquid and it squishes around when I step on it. I think that’s why they’re here, to be stepped on. I like them. They’re fun.
“These are pretty cool.” I back up a bit. There’s a librarian. I didn’t hear them come up. She’s not old and scary like the other two were. She looks like she’s twenty or something. “I’m Heidi.”
“I’m Eve. Do you know where this book goes?”
“Can you show me?” I hug it closer. I don’t want anyone to take it. I shake my head no. “What’s the name?” I look at the book. It has a robot on the cover.
“The Wild Robot Escapes.”
“That’s a very good book. Do you know what it’s about?” I shake my head no.
“I just found it upstairs. I want to bring it back to it’s family. I can’t figure it out where it goes though.”
“It’s a book about a robot named Rox. It’s the second book in the series.”
“How many are there?”
“There’s three.”
“So it’s a…” I try to remember the word. It feels like it’s right at the corner of my head but I don’t know enough to pull it forward. It’s frustrating.
“A trilogy?” I nod. That’s the word. 

“Can you show me how to put it away?”
“Yes, I can. Did you come with anyone?”
“Uh huh, my dad. He’s close, he won’t mind if I go.” Heidi nods and we start walking. “How far is it?”
“It’s close, don’t worry. Where’d you find the book?”
“Upstairs. It was by the books about frogs.”
“Do you like frogs?”
“They’re some of my favorites. I saw a frog a few days ago. It was a tree frog.”
“Those are really fun frogs.” I nod softly. I like Heidi, she’s nice. She’s like a walking garden. She’s very green. She has dark green hair and glasses that match and green lipstick. Her dress is green and her sweater is too. Her shoes look like gardening boots and they’re green and her nails. Her nose is hooked and it reminds me of bumps on a branch. She’s pretty. “Eve? Did you hear me?” We aren’t walking anymore. I shake my head no.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She smiles like she means it. She’s a nice garden. She isn’t scary at all. “This is where the book goes.” There are three books that have the robot on the cover. They look cool.
“Why is Rox called the wild robot?”
“Because she lives on an island.” That sounds nice.
“What does she do on the island?”
“Would you like to read and find out?” I pause. I hug the book I’ve been wandering around with tighter.
“I don’t want to split them up.”
“You could get all three. Do you have a library card?” I nod.
“That would be okay?”
“Of course Eve. That’s what libraries are for.” I smile. I carefully take the first book and the third. Now I’ve got all three.
“What’s it called when there are three books altogether?”
“A trilogy.” Yeah, that’s the word. “Do you know where your dad is?”
“Uh huh, I do. Thank you for showing me where the book goes.”
“No problem Eve.” My books are heavy, I want to go find Dad so he can carry them. I turn and look left and right. I’m lost in a sea of books. I’m not sure where to go. “Do you want me to show you how to get to the door?” I nod. She smiles and we walk back the way we came. I like libraries. They hide all sorts of things.

I wonder what things hide in libraries. Books, of course. But maybe other things do to. I wonder if someone ever lost a snake here. It would be very hard to find the snake. It could slither around and hide with the books and on plants when people got close. It could eat mice, if there are any mice. Or maybe it would eat books. That would be a bit rude. Books are expensive. The snake might not know better. 

“Heidi?”
“Yes Eve?”
“Do snakes ever check out books?”
“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen that happen.” Interesting.
“Are there ever snakes in the library?”
“Sometimes we have days where a snake expert comes in and talks about snakes. They’ll bring some snakes too, and you can hold them if you’re careful.” That sounds fun. We’re back at the archway with the pretty lights.
“Did you put up the lights?”
“No, they’ve been here a long time.”
“I think they’ve always been here. As long as the libraries been here, the fairy lights have been here. Breathing in and out with the library and everyone inside. They’ll always be here and they’ll never go away. They’re magic. They keep all the books and people and snakes and things safe.” I shrug, books heavy in my hands. “I know that can’t be true. But it’s nice to pretend.”
“I think I’ll pretend that too. It’s a comforting thought.” I like Heidi.
“You’re a very nice garden,” I tell her seriously. She looks a bit confused but she smiles.

“Thank you.” I wave as I walk away to go find Dad. He was right by the frog books, so he’ll still be there. I need to go up the stairs but going up the stairs is hard when you’re carrying so many books. I stand by the stairs and hum softly. There should be an elevator somewhere I just don’t know where. I look to the left. Nothing there but the pretty arch of breathing fairies. To the right is the entrance and the desk with the scary lady. I look forward, past the stairs and to the glass door. It’s right by the glass walls.
“Glass door, glass walls,” I whisper. Those are interesting words. I focus on looking past the glass. There’s Dad! He’s in the room with the bean bags. I go there and open the door with one hand. It’s heavy. Books and doors, they are both very heavy. 

“Dad, I found where the book goes!”
“Are you okay?” I tilt my head at Dad. He’s kneeling down on the ground by me and he looks scared. His hands are on my shoulders, like he is trying to make sure I am really there.
“Uh huh, I was just finding the spot for the book, so it could be back with it’s family.”
“Eve, I didn’t know where you were.” I don’t get it. “You didn’t tell me where you were going.”
“I was just putting…I was just putting the book away.” I don’t understand what I did wrong. “I knew where you were. I was going back.” Dad inhales and exhales slowly. I don’t think he’s mad, just worried. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what I’m apologizing for.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I should’ve watched you better. You promise you’re okay?”
“I am, I found where the book goes. The garden lady helped me and we went by the fairies and the squishy floor that moves.”
“...okay. What books did you find?”
“It’s about a robot. They live on an island. There’s three of them. Three…Dad, what’s it called when three books are all together?”
“A trilogy.”
“It’s a trilogy,” I tell Dad seriously. “The garden lady said I needed to read it to find out what the robot does on the island. Can you read it to me?”
“Yeah kid.” Dad isn’t paying very much attention. “Next time can you get me so I can go with you?”
“Uh huh I will,” I answer. I’m busy looking at the cover though, it has a robot on it. “This is the first one, I think. Cause it just says The Wild Robot and the other two have more words than that.”
“Eve, do you remember what you promised to do?”
“...tell you if I get stabbed?”
“No, I need you to promise to get me if you want to do something new.”
“Why?”
“So I know where you are.”
“Okay, I promise.” I still don’t understand; I knew where he was and I was going back. “Can you read now?” Dad looks like he might sigh and I don’t know why.
“Yeah, I can kid.” 

Our story begins on the ocean, with the wind and rain and thunder and lightning and waves. 

I like that line. It’s a good way to start a story. I’ve read that line a lot of times. So did Dad. It’s hard to keep track of long stories. They are like yards of yarn.
“Yards of yarn,” I whisper, I like the way the words sound on my tongue. “Yards of yarn.” 

What is like yards of yarn? Stories, long stories, they are like yards of yarn. Tangled together, only a small piece visible and not all that clear when they’re tangled up. I used to be able to untangle them fast. Faster than most people, even. I was smart. I think I’m still smart. I hope I’m still smart. I think I might be. But it’s hard to untangle yards of yarn when you can’t hold onto the thread.
“Yards of yarn, yards of yarn.” 

I don’t remember the thread exists. It disappears, skitters away like a spider or a lizard, slithers away like a snake. Or maybe it hops away like a frog while I’m not looking. I have to hunt it down, but if I hunt to hard it disappears forever. I forget what to look for.
“Yards of yarn, yards of yarn.” I think I’ve said yards of yarn before. I’ve thought it before. I’ve come up with the thought before. Probably a lot of times. I think that’s okay. I’m holding a book. It’s the book the garden lady helped me bring home. Then I brought it home.

Our story begins on the ocean, with the wind and rain and thunder and lightning and waves.

That’s a good way to start a story. 

A hurricane roared and raged through the night. And in the middle of the chaos, a cargo ship was sinking

down

down 

down

to the ocean floor.

I would not want to be stuck on the bottom of the ocean. I’ve drowned before. It was not a good feeling. I think it’d be scary to be stuck on the ocean floor. Especially in a storm. And there’s no frogs down there. Are there frogs in the ocean? I’m going to ask Dad. I look at the rug. I’m at the couch, in a blanket nest. Hidden like a bird. Like a sparrow. Dad said I could have blankets, I remember he did. But I think I might forget if I get up and I don’t want to have to ask again. 

I take one of the lighter blankets out of my nest and put it over my shoulders. Blanket cape. I can’t forget I can have blankets if I still have one. I step off the couch and onto the ground. I go off the rug and onto the tiles in the kitchen. Cold. Dad is not in the kitchen. Oh. 

Then he’s probably in his room. There’s the living room and the kitchen and Dad’s room and my room and also a closet for other stuff. But not people, cause people shouldn’t be in closets. I walk across the living room, blanket cape dragging on the ground. I’m going on a quest to ask Dad about sea frogs. I want to know if sea frogs are a real thing. I hope they are, I want to see them if I ever get stuck in the sea. I go down the hallway. 

“I’m going on a quest to find Dad and ask about sea frogs.” I whisper it so I can remember. “I’m going on a quest to find Dad and ask about sea frogs.” I’m at Dad’s door. I knock on it. Nothing. I open it a little bit. The lights on but no one’s there. I don’t understand. “Dad?” 

I don’t want to sound scared. But I don’t know where Dad is. He’s gone, all the way gone. Disappeared like smoke in the wind or cake at a birthday party or free samples at a bakery. Dad’s not here and I don’t know why. If Dad’s gone there’s someone here. That’s how it works. Normally it’s Steph. But no one’s here right now. Nobody. That means Dad’s supposed to be here. And I don’t know where he is. I let the blanket drop to the ground and rush to my room. I pull the door open. Nothing. Just my stuff, no Dad. Dad’s not here. Dad’s not here. I’m in the living room. 

I need to open the door. I need to pull it open. I need to put my hand on the doorknob. It’s hovering right over the doorknob, pushing away like two ends of the wrong magnets. My hand tries to reach for the door like it’s trying to reach clouds in the sky. I can’t touch it. I can’t reach the doorknob. I can’t pull it open. I don’t know where Dad is, I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if he told me he was going-he couldn’t have told me he was going. He wouldn’t have left me all alone if he knew he was going. But he did. And Dad’s gone. Dad’s gone . 

Again. He’s gone again and I failed again. Dad’s gone and he might be dead and I can’t open the door to go find him. Maybe Dad isn’t dead, maybe he’s dying right now, and I won’t know because I can’t get to him. Because I won’t get to him, I can get to him. I just won’t open the door because I’m scared. I’m scared and useless and awful. I just need to open the door. I just need to put my hand on the doorknob and twist it and then I can go. Then I’ll be able to go. But I can’t do it. I’m crying and it’s stupid and this is my fault.

Dad’s going to die again and I didn’t even know he was gone. I didn’t know he was gone. Maybe he’s dead and I forgot and he’s gone and he’s been gone for a long time and I didn’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s all unraveling, I can’t remember anything. I want Dad. I want Stephanie. I want someone to be here and tell me what’s going on. I want a lie. I want Steph to be here and lie to me. I want her to say that Dad’s here, just in his room sleeping or in the kitchen making dinner. I want Tim. I want Tim to be here and he isn’t cause I got him killed too. Because I was too stupid to do anything right.

I need to grab the doorknob. I just need to grab the doorknob. But I can’t do it. I can’t help anyone. I’m only in the way. That’s all I’m good at, being in the way. I can’t do anything right. I never do anything right. I couldn’t get Dad back right, I couldn’t lie to Tim right, I couldn’t keep either of them alive right. I can’t remember things rights and I can’t think right and I don’t know what the right thing to do is. I sink onto the ground and stare at the door. I’m crying. Which is stupid and weak and ridiculous.

It’s pathetic. I don’t want to hear that word in their voices. I don’t want to be that useless, that pathetic. Pathetic means a lot of things. It can be used for a lot of names. I lean my head against the wall. Pathetic. Earning pity, especially through vulnerability or sadness. I read that definition over and over one night. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I was quiet. I didn’t want to wake up Dad. I’ll never have to worry about that again.

Cause he’s dead. And it’s my fault. Because I’m useless and pathetic. Not the type of pathetic that deserves help. I’m the second kind. Pathetic. Miserably inadequate. Only meeting very low standards. I’m that kind of pathetic. I couldn’t do anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t kill right. I can’t steal right. I can’t torture right. I can’t hurt right. I can’t handle hurt right and I can’t hurt others right. I’m useless. Garbage. Unpredictable. Liar. Untrustworthy. Revolting. Violent. Pathetic. 

I can hear someone pulling open the window They’re walking too slowly to be Dad. It doesn’t matter. Dad isn’t coming home. Dad’s gone. It’s my fault. I was asleep, I think. I must’ve been, or maybe I just shut my eyes for a few seconds. I don’t know. There’s no way to know. I’m still close to the door, leaning against the wall. I drag my eyes open. There is someone inside. I can hear them walking. They came in through the window in the living room. They’re walking somewhere. Probably to the kitchen. But it isn’t Dad. It can’t be Dad, he’s dead. I stand up slowly. It’s probably a bad person. There are a lot of bad people in Gotham. I stare at the doorknob for a second. I should turn it now. I should just go. It doesn’t matter, whoever it is. I’ll go find Steph or Tim. No, I can’t get Tim. He’s dead. I’ll go find Steph and someone else can handle whoever this is. 

But I didn’t turn the handle before. I can’t turn it now. I can’t open the door to save myself when I couldn’t go save Dad. I exhale slowly. Inhaling is hard. It’s hard to breathe when you’re a block of ice. I turn around and look to the kitchen. I can’t see whoever it is. I think they’re trying to be quiet. I don’t want to deal with this. I want them to go away. I grab a hairtie off my wrist as I slowly walk to the kitchen. Silent. I’m silent. I pull my hair back in a ponytail. It’s annoying, to have it in your face when you have to fight people. I step off the rug and into the tiles of the kitchen. They’re cold.
“Eve, kid, I need you to go back to bed.” Dad. That’s Dad. I hug him. “Eve now.”
“ You were dead .” I don’t care that Dad’s annoyed. He’s not dead and I need him to be not dead and everything’s okay.
“Yeah I was and I’m back. I’ve been back for awhile and I really need you-”
“You were gone Dad, and I didn’t know where you were and you were dead.”
“I was just patrolling.” I didn’t know that. Steph wasn’t here to tell me and I don’t remember Dad telling me he was going. “Listen, I’m sorry you got scared but you need to go back to bed.” I pull away a bit. Dad’s hurt. That’s his ‘I got hurt and I’m trying to hide it’ voice. I’m shaking. His arm is wrapped in bloody bandages and his face is cut up. He rubs his left temple. “I’m fine Eve.”
“No you aren’t. You got hurt, you got really hurt.”
“It isn’t that bad.”
“Yes it is .” Dad’s hurt and that’s bad. “You got hurt.”
“I just need to stitch it.” I’m crying. Dad’s hurt and I don’t know what to do and he isn’t okay. Dad exhales slowly for a minute. “Eve, I can’t fix it while you’re panicking.” I can’t hear the words. Dad’s hurt and I don’t want him to be hurt and I don’t know what to do. 

“Dad-”
“ Eve.” I pull back, almost backing into a cabinet. Dad’s mad. I want to say I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m sorry for. But he’s mad. I did something wrong. I want to say I’m sorry. But I can’t get the words out. Dad said to go. I back up. I leave the kitchen. I’m on the rug. Across the living room. Down the hall. There’s a blanket on the ground in the hall. And my book. I grab both of them loosely. I drop the blanket on the floor in my room. I hold onto the book. I go on top of my bed.

Dad’s mad. I don’t know what I did that was bad. He’s hurt. I was stupid. I was stupid. Dad wasn’t dead, he just got hurt. He was on patrol. But he didn’t tell me. I don’t think he told me. I just woke up and he was gone. I went to the living room to read. That’s what I do when I wake up at night. But he was gone. And I didn’t know. He was here when I went to bed. Then he was gone. Dead. And now he’s back and he’s mad. I was stupid. I messed up.

I want Steph. Stephanie isn’t mad at me. She doesn’t get mad. She doesn’t get annoyed like Dad does. She doesn’t get scary like Dad can get. I want Steph. I want a hug. I want her to lie and say I didn’t mess up so bad, that I can fix it. That Dad won’t get mad again. I want a hug. Or a blanket. It’s cold. I feel like I’m made of nothing but snow and ice and wind. 

The wall of my room is a pale blue. I like blue. It’s a nice color. I want to write down every possible way I could’ve messed up on the wall. Look over all my failures. I want to examine it. Find the common trend. I want to fix it, fix me, so I don’t make Dad mad anymore. The wall is blue. I feel blue, inside. Broken and quiet and washed out. Toned down and boring. Useless. I feel useless.

I didn’t do anything right. I can’t do anything right. I messed up everything. I hug my book tighter, pulling my knees close to my chest. I want to stay curled up in a ball forever. I want to stop crying. I want Dad-no, I don’t want Dad. He’s mad and annoyed and mad . Mad like breaking things and mad like yelling and mad like hurt and mad like words thrown at me and digging into my skin. Mad like disgust. Dad hasn’t done that. Any of that. He hasn’t yelled or said awful things or broken anything. I don’t think he’s disgusted with me. I hope he isn’t. The world feels fuzzy. I should go check on Dad but he doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want me around him, right now. That’s it. That, that’s all he said.

He still wants me. He does.

I wanted him back. I worked so hard to get him back. I did everything . I didn’t really try to outsmart Ra’s. He thought I would. I knew that, I knew I was supposed to. But I didn’t care. I just wanted Dad back. I wouldn’t risk anything, anything that might get Dad hurt. I exhale slowly. I did everything. I killed who they wanted. I hurt who they wanted. I stole what they wanted. Ra’s ran out of things for me to do, at some point. My jobs went from soul crushing to errands. Murder-y errands. But they were errands. Then Joker came in.

I still did what I needed to. I got Dad back. That has to be enough. Everything I did, that has to be enough for him to stay. For him to want to stay. It should be enough. I think it’s enough. I tried for it to be enough. I hope it’s enough. I didn’t mean to mess up. I didn’t mean to make him mad. He snapped at me. But it was worse than that, he was so angry. I haven’t ever made him that angry. I was scared. He wasn’t okay. I just-I just wanted Dad to be okay.

“Eve-” I flinch as I hear his voice and see his shadow from the doorway. I want Dad to be okay but I want him to go away. I don’t want him to see me cry. That might’ve been what made him mad. I don’t know. “I’m okay. I promise.” That’s good. It is. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” 

That isn’t a sorry. He was mad. And if he shouldn’t have snapped at me then I need a sorry. If it isn’t my fault, if it’s Dad’s fault, then I should get a sorry. I want a sorry then I want him to go away. Dad sighs. I wait for him to talk more. I wait for the sorry. I wait for him to say I can have a blanket. I wait for him to offer me a hug. I don’t think I want one, but I want to know it’s an option. But I don’t hear any of that. I just hear him walk away. He closed my door. It’s dark. The only light comes from the window, from the light outside. I whimper. It’s weak and dumb and I didn’t mean to but it’s dark. I don’t like dark. I don’t like being trapped.

Dad didn’t say sorry. Maybe we can just pretend nothing happened. We can pretend I wasn’t scared. We can pretend Dad didn’t leave me alone. We can pretend Dad didn’t get hurt. We can pretend Dad didn’t get mad. We can pretend Dad didn’t trap me. We can pretend Dad didn’t use my name like a knife. We can pretend everything is fine. We can pretend I forgot all about tonight. We can pretend everthing is fine. I’m good at pretending.

It’s snowing. It’s raining. It’s gross outside. The thing falling from the sky is sloppy and mushy. The sky is dropping watery smashed peas onto Gotham. Whenever they hit the ground they begin to melt or mix with the grime. It becomes grey. Grey like ash. Grey like dirt. Grey like cheap paints mixed all together. The colors dragging together, bits and pieces of them until nothing but broken is left. The mush doesn’t help. It doesn’t hide anything. It doesn’t mask anything. It just shows how dark Gotham is. 

There aren’t any frogs on the window. It is just gross outside. There is not much to see. There is light, filtering through the mush. It comes from streetlights, standing tall and strong as if they are waiting on someone important. Some of them are broken and tilted. Those ones have been waiting too long. The light comes from other buildings too. Apartments. Stores. Light peaking out of blinds and curtains. Pulling away from it’s source and leaking into Gotham. 

It feels cold. Even inside. Like the walls don’t exist. The wind is sneaking in, the cold following with it. In through the cracked window I don’t want to get up and close. It’s pouring in slowly. It’s like mist boiling over a witch’s cauldron. It flows down dramatically, changing the entire scene, the entire room. The mist in shows and movies makes things look spooky. The wind just makes things cold. I don’t want to be cold. 

Cold feels like ice. Like I am made of ice and the pain spreads down my arms and legs, embedded like jewels in my hands. Cold feels like cracks of soft blue and white, the hollow of the cracks hinting at red. Red pulling up and out, red like blood, as the cracks get deeper and deeper until it’s a miracle I haven’t shattered. Cold smells like sharpness and metal. Cold drags across my skin like a hand or nails. Cold aches, it throbs, it makes breathing hard. Breathing feels like dragging air into my lungs. Breathing while cold requires effort. I don’t want to be cold. 

“Dad?” Dad is sitting on the couch. He’s reading something. I don’t know what. But he’s reading something.
“Yeah kid.” Oh. He sounds annoyed. Worse, he sounds like he’s trying not to sound annoyed.
“Never mind.” I pull my voice up. Happy, like I am not a block of ice, frozen and blue and oozing blood from cracks reaching for my bones. Dad looks more annoyed. I don’t know why he’s more annoyed. It’s under the surface of his skin annoyed, brewing and almost silent until it explodes. Dad doesn’t explode. He’s never exploded before, snapping last night doesn’t count. But other people have exploded. People can explode. I don’t want that.
“What were you going to ask.”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

The words are too slow. There is a pause as wide as a canyon between each. Dad sighs. The sigh is loud but silence would’ve been louder. The sigh is full and disappointed and annoyed and I don’t know how to fix it. I turn back to the window. I stare forward, like nothing exists but the mush and the soft lights outside in the dark. Ice isn’t supposed to cry, especially not something small like a sigh. Ice is cold and nothing and empty and it doesn’t mind that. Ice isn’t supposed to be overwhelmed. Ice is nothing and that’s fine. That’s fine and I’m fine. It’s all fine.

The window is the same as before. It isn’t changing. Nothing changes. Nothing is changing. A light across the road goes out. It is just one light. Everything else is the same. The mush is still falling from the sky. It looks more like snow now. It is colder. It stays solid in the cold. I wonder if it will hail. Hail is not enjoyable. It’s cold and hard, like rocks. Not fun rocks, like rock candy. There are numerous kinds of rock candy. Ones that look like crystals on a stick and ones that are chocolate and look like rocks. Both of them are fun. Hail is not fun, it is just hurt dressed in cold and hidden in clouds. 

If I could choose it’d be windy but just a bit. That way you can wear sweaters and scarfs and mittens and be warm without being hot. I’d want the sunshine to be bright and the wind to be chilly and I’d want to get hot chocolate and go on a walk. Those days feel safe, they taste like cinnamon and apples. They smell like vanilla. They feel soft and cozy and wonderful. I want to ask Dad what his favorite type of weather is. I probably already know, but I can’t remember. There are a lot of things I can’t remember. I’m not sure why I was crying. I know I was, because there are still tears on my face, but I don’t remember why. I push my palm against my face, wiping them off like ink off a whiteboard.
“Dad?” I turn to look at him while I ask. I want to ask what weather he like and I want to ask if I can have a blanket. I’m cold and it hurts. Dad’s annoyed. I feel my face fall, fall like bricks crumbling away and collapsing. I try to keep the wall together, as if I’m holding it up with my hands. But it’s breaking in too many ways and I can’t remember why it’s breaking to begin with. I can’t remember why Dad’s annoyed. I just don’t know.
“What Eve.” I’m the reason Dad’s annoyed, I can tell. I did something wrong, I don’t know what I did wrong, but I did something wrong.
“I,” I need my words to come out but they are stuck clawing in my throat, “wanted to ask.” They aren’t coming out. They won’t get out of my throat, they’re stuck there, like birds making nests. They are comfortable in my throat, they want to settle down there and never come out again, but I need to talk. I need to shove them out of their places and into the world, I need them to work for me. They can not reside inside my chest forever.
“What did you want to ask Eve.” I can’t remember. I was too focused on getting the words out and they disappeared. They’re gone entirely. I need them back, I just want to say the right thing. I want to make it better. Dad rolls his eyes. I shut mine. Don’t cry. “I’m going to patrol.” I keep my eyes shut. Maybe I don’t ever have to open them again. I can keep them shut, then I don’t have to see that again. I won’t have to see when Dad’s annoyed. I can just be in the dark. I’d rather be in the dark. “Did you hear me?” I nod. Don’t cry. I want to ask if Steph’s coming, if anyone’s coming. I keep my mouth shut. It wouldn’t work anyway. I hear Dad walk out of the living room.

I stand up and walk away from the window. I walk with my eyes shut. I want to put my hands over my ears. I want to see nothing and hear nothing and feel nothing. I want to be a void. No, I want to be invisible. I want to float around like a ghost, impacting nothing and hurting no one. But I could still see people. Then I could make sure they were okay. I’m in my room, I know because my room doesn’t have any rug. I run my hand on the wall, walking forward with tiny steps. I want to be a ghost. I could be a good ghost. I could make sure cups don’t fall off the counter, and I could tidy and do the dishes and close doors when Dad forgets. I could be a helpful ghost.

I reach my bed. I sit down, pushing clothes and books out of the way. I hide there, back to the bed, eyes shut and hands over my ears. I want to be a ghost. Then I could see when Steph comes over and I could hear her and Dad talk. I could make sure she was okay too. I would like being a ghost. Then I couldn’t mess up and Dad wouldn’t get annoyed and everything would be okay. 

I open my eyes just a bit. There’s something by my foot, something annoying. It’s itchy. It’s a shirt I hated. It was a gross bad shirt. I hid it under my bed a long time ago. It’s green. I don’t like it. I shove it away. The shirt I’m wearing right now is not green. It’s a deep blue. It’s soft. I like this one. I’m cold. I’m really cold. I don’t know why I’m cold. I feel tired. I press my head into the ground, rubbing my eyes with my hands. I feel heavy, like I’m full of chalk. Weighed down to the ground. I want to go to sleep and let my eyes close. It’s like they’re magnets, pulling to each other and sticking close. I’m too cold to sleep. I’m ice. I get up slowly, pulling up my body of chalk and head full of sand. I rub my eyes again. I’m tired. 

I can hear Dad in the kitchen. I walk on the rug, the one in the hallway, the one that’s soft and safe and feels good. I’m in the living room and the window is open. It shouldn’t be, it’s cold outside. But Dad’s hot all the time, that’s probably why it’s open. It’s kinda funny, I’m cold always and he’s hot always. I think I’d rather be hot than cold but I don’t know. I don’t know which one he would want. I’m supposed to be doing something. It’s cold. I want a blanket. I’ll figure out what I was supposed to do later. Dad’s in the kitchen, he’s cooking. I come stand next to him, tilting my head as I look at the pot. The water’s boiling over. I reach and take the lid off. Dad’s staring ahead.

I go back out of the kitchen and walk in loudly. My feet don’t stomp but they make noise, lots of noise. Dad looks at me when he comes in. He looks sad. I hug him. He doesn’t hug me back for a few seconds and it’s only a half hug.
“What are you making?”
“Pasta.” I like pasta. You can do a whole bunch of different things with pasta. You can make spaghetti or put it in soup and more stuff I can’t remember. “Do you remember what I said before?”
“Uh huh, you said you’re making pasta.”
“Not that Eve.” Oh. I don’t know what he said. Maybe it was about the window? “I’m going to patrol tonight.”
“Do you have to?”
“I’m going to.”
“You got hurt.” I’m supposed to be pretending last night didn’t happen but I…I would rather Dad get mad again than die. I had nightmares about him yelling all night. But I’d rather, I’d rather that than Dad being gone.
“Yeah. That happens sometimes.” Dad sounds annoyed. I’m not stupid. I know that. I know we get hurt sometimes. But I don’t want Dad to get hurt anymore.
“Can you please stay?” Dad pulls away.
“I’m going to patrol Eve.”
“okay.” I need to not cry. I need to keep all the hurt shoved away. Steph’s going to come over, and it’ll be okay. We can wait for Dad to come back, and it’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. Then I can have a hug. “Can I have a blanket?” Dad’ll be okay.
“You can always have a blanket.”
“Can I have one right now?”
“Yeah. You can.” I walk to the living room, where there’s a rug. The rug's soft. I want to sit on the couch and wait for Steph but it’s cold. I can ask Stephanie to close the window when she gets here. I don’t want to ask Dad. He’s sad. He isn’t in a good mood. I walk to the hallway. I still feel heavy and tired and I want to sleep but I can’t. I’ve got to be here in case Dad gets hurt. That can happen, it’s going to happen. It happened last night. I’m in my room. It’s messy. That’s a bad thing. I’ll get a blanket after I’ve cleaned it.

There’s clothes all over. I forget to put them away a lot. I drag the dirty clothes basket to the middle of the room. That way I’ll see it and remember what to do. I’ve got to clean the room, even though I feel tired. I grab some of the clothes I think are dirty. If they aren’t a jacket or coat or something then they’re probably dirty, if they’re on the ground. I put one pair of mittens in the basket. And a shirt, I like this shirt. It’s warm and has long sleeves. I put it in the basket too. I like this hoodie, it’s red. I’ve had it for a long time. I don’t think it’s dirty. I pull it on. It’s soft. Soft smells like hot chocolate and apples. Not all apples, honeycrisp ones. 

Noise richotes outside, booming and loud and painful. It is like the sky screams. I shudder, pulling away from the window. It is raining and it is snowing and that is thunder and I don’t like it. I want it to be quiet. I want quiet like snow, blank nice nothingness. I want it to be soft. I want it to be quiet. I want Dad. I don’t like when it’s loud outside, it’s hard. Loud sudden noises are hard. My hands are shaking, shaking like buildings do when the earth quakes and breaks into pieces. 

“Eve, can you hear me.” I turn around. Dad’s here. I want to get up and hug him and ask him if I can have a blanket. I want him to make hot chocolate and I want to hide in the living room and watch a movie and pretend it isn’t loud and scary and awful. “Eve.”
“I can.” Talking is hard but it’s easier than Dad getting mad. More mad.
“There’s food in the kitchen. You need to eat before you go to bed. I’ll be back soon.” Dad’s going? “I’m patrolling.” I forgot. I always forget. I’m so stupid.
“When’s Steph coming?”
“Steph isn’t coming this time.” The world is loud again, the sky erupts in thunder again. I shudder, my entire body shaking like a tree in a tornado. I don’t want Dad to go. “I need to go kid.” I open my mouth but the words don’t come. I try to find them. It’s like there’s nothing inside my head, like I am wandering in the dark clinging to shadows while I look for the right type of light. The only substantial thing I can find is please. But I can’t ask that, not when it will come out too slowly and Dad’s already annoyed. Nothing I can say will get him to stay. I can’t get him to stay.
“Can I have a blanket?” I don’t want to be alone in the loud and the dark and be cold. I’m already so cold.
“Yes.” Dad’s annoyed, and I don’t know how to fix it. “You can always have a blanket.” He turns to go, he’s going, and that doesn’t answer my question, and everything is already so awful and I just don’t want to be cold.
“Can I have a blanket right now?” Dad exhales slowly and rubs his left temple. I can’t see his face. Maybe I’m wrong, I’ve been wrong before. Maybe I’m wrong and everything is okay and Dad isn’t annoyed. Maybe I was wrong last night and maybe everything will be okay. “please.”
“What does always mean Eve?”
“All the time.”
“You can always have a blanket.” That’s not a yes. That’s not a yes, and that means it’s a no. I want him to stay but I don’t want him to see me cry. I turn away and look at the window. I want him to ask me what I see, I want him to stay, I want him to stay. I want to be warm and I want the hurt to stop. It’s like it’s exploding in my chest, tearing at my ribs, demanding to be let out and Dad’s walked away and- the door slams shut. The slam echoes in the apartment, the apartment that is silent except for the slam and me. I cry and it’s loud. There’s no one to hear. There’s no reason to be quiet.

I want Dad and he’s gone. I want Steph and she isn’t here. I want Tim and he’s dead. I don’t want to be alone. Inside is quiet and outside is loud. There’s no one here and I’m cold. It hurts. It won’t get better. Cause Dad said no. He’s never said no before, not since we got back, and he said no. I have to be cold because Dad said no. I want Dad. The sky is loud. Loud like screaming and loud like hurt and loud like laughing, bad evil laughing. I hide under my bed. I want to stay under my bed. A turtle in its shell, a pearl in its oyster, a bird in its nest. I want to stay hidden. Out of the way. No one can hurt me if I’m out of the way.

Nothing but cold. I can never get away from the cold.

Chapter Text

The microwave is slow. The bowl is spinning around inside. Slow, like a broken merry go round. Slow like little kid learning to spin in a circle. Slow like a hula hoop but less interesting. It’s like the wheels of a bike going up a hill. I still have two minutes left till it’s done. I sit down on the ground by the counter and open my book. The Wild Robot. It’s a good book.
Chapter One The Ocean

Our story begins on the ocean, with the wind and rain and thunder and lightning and waves. A hurricane roared and raged through the night. And in the middle of the chaos, a cargo ship was sinking

down

down 

down

to the ocean floor.

The ship left hundreds of crates floating on the surface. But as the hurricane thrashed and swirled and knocked them around, the crates also began sinking into the depths. One after another, they were swallowed up by the waves, until only five crates remained .

“Oh no.” I don’t mean to whisper even if it’s quiet. I don’t want the crates to be at the bottom of the ocean. They have robots in them, robots like Roz. Not exactly like Roz. Well, actually they are exactly like Roz. They’re all the same in the beginning. Maybe they could have all been like Roz if they all got to start out like she did. But they didn’t. So now there’s only one Roz. The microwave beeps and I jerk backwards, hitting my head on the cabinets. I wince. Ow. “Don’t be rude please. Beep quieter.” It isn’t the microwave’s fault it scared me but it was very loud. I stand up and rub my eyes. I’m tired. Sleeping is hard. I don’t like the nightmares.
The microwave beeps again.
“Shhh please.” I open the door. I carefully grab my bowl of pasta out. I like pasta, especially pasta with red sauce. And that’s what this one has. Dad made it. I don’t really want to think about Dad. He’s mad at me, I think. I don’t really know. I haven’t seen him today, he’s stayed in his room. I stayed in mine but I got hungry. Now I have pasta and I’m gonna eat it in the living room. I like eating there, then I can wait and look out the window. I’ll wait for Dad to come out so I can talk to him and make sure he’s okay. 

I carefully carefully carry the bowl of pasta to the living room. I’m out of the cold tiles in the kitchen and on the rug in the living room. It’s warm. Well, warmer. The window is closed, so that’s good. It’s dark and cold outside. I want a jacket but I don’t think that’s okay. I know a blanket isn’t okay. Because… because Dad said… I don’t want to think about that. I have pasta. My pasta is warm. That’s good. I sit down carefully with my pasta in front of me, then the window, but I’m not going to look out the window. Just eat my pasta. Just look at my book.

By morning the hurricane was gone. There were no clouds, no ships, no land in sight. There was only calm water and clear skies and those five crates lazily bobbing along an ocean current. Days passed. And then a smudge of green appeared on the horizon. As the crates drifted closer, the soft green shapes slowly sharpened into the hard edges of a wild, rocky island .

Roz is going to get home. She hasn’t met her home yet, but that’s okay. She’s going to get there anyway. She’ll find her lilypad. Her place that’s just right to exist in the universe. She’ll be safe there, and happy, and have a family and friends and it’ll be good. She’s a good robot. She deserves all that, even if she isn’t a person. She’s a good robot. That’s enough. I take a few bites of pasta. I keep forgetting it exists. I look at the page. 

As the crates drifted closer, the soft green shapes slowly sharpened into the hard edges of a wild, rocky island. The first crate rode to shore on a tumbling, rumbling wave and then crashed against the rocks with such force that the whole thing burst apart.
“What are you reading?” I jolt forward, away from the noise behind me, bringing the book up to protect my face. I wince and put it down. It’s just Dad.
“The robot book.” Dad didn’t sound annoyed before but now he looks mad. I didn’t mean to mess up. I didn’t mean to.
“I was just talking to you.” I don’t know what the right thing to say it.
“I know.” I didn’t mean to flinch. It was more than flinching, I was scared, but it wasn’t on purpose. Dad shakes his head as he rolls his eyes. I bite my tongue, trying to hold back the hurt. I don’t want to cry. He’s walking away, towards the kitchen. I still want him to stay, even though it hurt. Even though he hurt me. Again. “I didn’t mean to.” That wasn’t the right thing to say. I can tell because of how he freezes. Frozen like something waiting. I don’t know what he’s waiting for though.
“It was an over reaction.”
“But it wasn’t on purpose.” I should shut up. I should really shut up. But I don’t want Dad to be mad anymore. If I can explain then he won’t be mad. I wasn’t meaning to be rude.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Dad snaps back. I wince slightly and hug my book closer. “It isn’t fair to act like I will.” Dad’s looking at me now. I should’ve shut up.
“I know that.” For the first time that feels like a lie. But it isn’t a lie, I do know he wouldn’t hurt me. I know it. He wouldn’t hurt me. He’s my dad. Dad wouldn’t do that.
“Then stop acting,” Dad snaps, “like I will.”
“I’m not trying to.” I want my voice to sound strong and brave or normal, at least normal. I need it to sound normal. “It wasn’t on purpose.” Dad rolls his eyes and scoffs. I shut my eyes, hiding in the dark. 

I’m not bad. I’m not stupid. I’m not. Tim said I wasn’t and Tim was only wrong a little bit of the time. I’m not bad and I’m not stupid I’m just, I’m just not doing a good job explaining. But all my words are stuck in my throat. My tears are not stuck in my eyes. I wish they were. I wish I could stop crying, I wish I could shove them away forever. I could make my words come instead. I wouldn’t have to drag them out my throat, they would come freely and easily and they would be the right words. Not the wrong ones. 

The door opens and I hear Steph walk inside. It sounds like her. She’s walking extra loud.
“Hey frog.” Her words are calculated. I hear her walk. She's coming to me. “What are you two up to?” I don’t answer. When she hugs me I lean into her. I don’t want to open my eyes.
“We were talking.” Jason sounds annoyed. He always sounds annoyed. I hold onto Steph with one hand.
“Eve, I want you to go wait outside. That okay with you?” I don’t want to go. I want to stay with Steph. “I’ll be right there. I just want to talk to Jason for a minute.” I shake my head no. I don’t want to be alone downstairs. I don’t want to be alone at all. I don’t want Steph to be alone with Dad. “Here.” Steph hands me a cold rectangle, it feels weird. “I have to come back for my phone. So you’ll know I’m coming back.”
“okay.”
“Get your shoes frog. And your backpack.” 

I have a backpack for running. But I don’t need to run from Dad. I crack my eyes open a bit. Steph is smiling but it isn’t a real smile. It’s a ‘please please listen’ smile. I stand up, hugging my book tight. I don’t look at Dad. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking. I don’t want to see if he’s mad. I don’t want to know. I want to pretend it’s all fine. I want to pretend he isn’t being scary. I want to pretend I’m not worried for Stephanie. I want to pretend I’m not glad to go. I don’t want to be glad to go. I don’t want Dad to be scary either. I’m in my room. It’s cold. I don’t want to be cold anymore. 

Maybe I can ask Steph about a blanket. I don’t know if that’ll be okay though. Dad said no. I don’t know if that means everyone will say no or that I shouldn’t ask anyone or something else entirely. Focus, I need to focus, I can’t let go of the thread. I need shoes. I need to get ready and go. I need my backpack. I pick it up and put it on my back. I feel shaky. I don’t feel good. I want Steph. I go back to her. She’s glaring at Dad. I put on my shoes. I’m still holding onto Steph’s phone tight.
“Wait outside for me frog.” I look at Dad. I let myself actually look at him. He’s mad. I don’t know what I did wrong, all the way but I do know he’s mad. My hands are shaking.
“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t roll his eyes this time. That’s…that’s something. I turn the doorknob and close the door. I sink onto the ground right next to it. I scrub at my eyes. No crying. I can’t cry.

I need to be nothing. I need to disappear, wash away like sand on the floor of the ocean. Wash away like smoke in the air, swirling around people and buildings and things before disappearing for good. Wash away like dirt coated to skin pulled away with water and soap. Washed away like any bad gross vile broken thing. I need to be blank and quiet. I need to shut up. I never shut up. 

The corner of my book is jutting into my arm. That hurts. I pull away. I look at the cover. On the cover is Roz. A robot. Roz stands on top of a cliff. On top of boulders overlooking the sea. Behind her is trees and a bright orange sun and blue sky. It looks pretty. The texture is pretty too. I like Roz. Roz is a good robot. She’s lonely though, all alone on an island where no one will talk to her. She shouldn’t have to be alone on an island but she is. I hope she gets to talk to more people-or animals I guess. There aren’t any people on the island. I think that’s the point.
I open the book. 

As the crates drifted closer, the soft green shapes slowly sharpened into the hard edges of a wild, rocky island. The first crate rode to shore on a tumbling, rumbling wave and then crashed against the rocks with such force that the whole thing burst apart.

Now, reader, what I haven’t mentioned is that tightly packed inside each crate was a brand-new robot. The cargo ship had been transporting hundreds of them before it was swept up in the storm. Now only five robots were left. Actually, only four were left, because when that first crate crashed against the rocks, the robot inside shattered to piece.

I shut my eyes. Oh. I knew that was going to happen. I remember that part of the book, that part of the thread. But I’m so sad for that poor robot. It didn’t even have a chance, they never had a chance, they just died. Smashed and broken and abandoned and alone. All alone. I wouldn’t want to shatter into pieces. I’ve had bones shatter into pieces and that hurt and that wasn’t my entire body. I wish that robot got to be okay. It didn’t. It didn’t get to be okay. 

The same thing happened to the next crate. It crashed against the rocks, and robot parts flew everywhere. Then it happened to the next crate. And the next. Robot limbs and torsos were flung onto ledges. A robot head splashed into a tide pool. A robot foot skittered into the waves. 

And then came the last crate. It followed the same path as the others, but instead of crashing against the rocks, it sloshed against the remains of the first four crates. Soon, more waves were heaving it up out of the water. It soared through the air, spinning and glistening until it slammed down onto a tall shelf of rock. The crate was cracked and crumpled, but the robot inside was safe.
“Roz.” That’s Roz. She’s alive, she’s okay, she gets to survive. She gets to survive. That’s the first chapter at it’s end. All over and done. Not the whole book over and done, just the first bit. Steph and Dad are taking a long time to talk. I want her to come out. I don’t know where we’re going but I want to go. I shouldn’t listen but I want to know if they’re almost done. I stand up, balancing against the weight on my back from my backpack, holding my book close. I pull the door open and listen just a bit.

“-it’s my kid.”
“And?”
“What do you mean and -”
“I mean that I don’t care whose kid Eve is, you can’t scare her like that.”
“They weren’t scared.”
“Are we talking about the same kid Jason?” I close it again, making sure the door doesn’t click. I don’t want to hear anymore. I sit down again and pull my knees close to my chest.

I’m not scared. I wasn’t scared. I was just…worried. And sad. And hurt. Because Dad was upset and I didn’t know what I had done wrong, and maybe it isn’t always my fault. That thought is scary. It wasn’t my fault when Dad snapped at me. He said so. Well, he said it was his fault. So it can’t be my fault. But he didn’t say sorry, you’re supposed to say sorry. I said sorry a bunch of times today, and I don’t even know what I did that was so bad. I didn’t mean to flinch, I was just startled. I was just a little scared, not of Dad, but just of the new noise. I wasn’t ready for new noise. 

“We’re going Eve. You ready?” I look up at Steph. She shuts the door softly behind her.
“Did Dad say I can go?”
“Essentially.” That isn’t really a yes, but that’s okay. I don’t need a yes. I don’t…I don’t mind going with Steph right now, even if it makes Dad upset. “He was going to patrol tonight. Do you remember that?”
“I don’t think Dad told me. He was in his room all day.” Steph’s face shifts a little but she doesn’t comment on what I said.
“That’s why I came over, cause we don’t want you to be alone while he’s gone.” Dad doesn’t care if I’m alone while he’s gone. “We’re going to have a sleepover tonight. That okay with you?”
“Okay. I can come back tomorrow?”
“You can if you want to.” I stand up slowly. I reach for Steph’s hand before pulling mine back and wincing. Right. I’m not supposed to do that. She takes my hand and we walk away from the door, away from Dad. “Want to get waffles frog?”
“Waffles sound good.” 

I like Steph’s apartment, it feels safe. She’s carrying the waffles and I’m carrying my book and backpack. We just got waffles, cause it’s already midnight and we didn’t want to make any, but we still wanted waffles. Cause waffles are yummy.
“You want to eat in the living room Eve?”
“Uh huh.” That sounds good. Steph messes with my hair with her free hand. I blink slowly, rubbing my eyes with the back of my left wrist.
“Go sit down frog, I’ll be there in a minute.” That sounds good. I don’t sit on the couch, I sit on the ground by the couch with my back to it. It’s more comfortable like that. I take off my backpack and put it on the ground. I put my book on top. A stack of things. Stacked up and up and up. Like a tower of things. Like a mountain. Like blocks. Steph flops onto the ground by me and hands me a plate of waffles with chocolate chips.
“Thanks Steph.”
“No problem V.” That’s a new nickname. Steph has waffles too. “Want to watch a show while we eat?” I shake my head no. Too loud.
“Was your day good?” I take a bit of waffle once the words are out of my mouth. I like chocolate chip waffles.
“Yeah, it was. I had to study a lot but it was mostly good.” I rub my eyes with one hand and nod.
“That’s happy.”
“What have you been up to frog?”
“We went to the library. I talked to a garden lady and saw fairies. I got three books… Steph?”
“Yeah Eve?”
“What’s it called when there’s three books?”
“A trilogy.”
“It’s a trilogy.” I’ve eaten half of my waffle. I don’t want to eat anymore. “Can I be done?”
“You can.” I lean into Steph, using her shoulder as a pillow. She’s comfortable. “Did you eat anything else today V?”
“Don’t remember.”
“Do you think you can tell me what’s been going on with you and your dad?” I don’t want to talk about that. I shut my eyes.

I do not know where to start. Dad’s upset, and I can’t fix it. Dad’s upset, and it’s not entirely my fault. Dad’s upset, and I don’t know how to fix what isn’t entirely my fault. I don’t think Dad is okay. I don’t think Dad wants me anymore. I don’t think Dad will forgive me. I don’t know what I did wrong but I did something. I know I have to fix it so Dad isn’t upset anymore. So he’ll still want me to stay, so he’ll still want to be my dad. I can do that. I can. I just don’t want to think about it, just for a little bit.
“Wanna talk about that tomorrow?” I press the side of my head into Steph’s shoulder harder for a few moments. Thank you . “Want me to read your book to you?” I nod yes. “Want me to get a blanket first?”

“It’s okay.” Dad said no. I don’t think blankets are an option anymore.
“You need a blanket, at least until you stop shivering.” I didn’t know I was shivering.
“Then you can start reading?” 

“Then I can start reading.” 

That sounds okay. Steph gets up, taking both of our plates. The rug is soft. Soft like music. Soft like cinnamon and hot chocolate and apples. Soft like warm. I trace a circle into it with my finger. I push over the circle, erasing it like it was never there. I draw a sideways eight. I can’t remember what it’s called. I trace the outline of it over and over and over. Again and again. In a never ending loop. Round and round. Like a broken merry go round, or a little kid learning to spin in a circle. Or maybe like a hula hoop. Like the wheels of a bike going up a hill, or a bowl spinning in a microwave.
“You awake froggie?”
“I am.” Steph gives me a blanket. It’s purple. It’s soft, I like this one. “Can you read now?”
“I can. Where do you want me to start?”
“At the beginning.” I remember what happened but I want Steph to know what’s going on to. “Are you cold?”
“Nah, I’m not.” That’s good. I lean on Steph’s shoulder while she starts to read.
“Once upon a time-”
“It doesn’t start with once upon a time.”
“I’m adding it to be dramatic.” I hum. That’s acceptable. “Once upon a time a story began. Our story begins on the ocean, with wind and rain and thunder and lightning and waves. A hurricane roared and raged through the night. And in the middle of the chaos, a cargo ship was sinking down down down to the ocean floor.” Steph’s voice gets lower with each down before it goes back to normal. “The ship left hundreds of crates floating on the surface. But as the hurriance thrashed and swirled and knocked them around, the crates also began sinking into the depths.” Steph’s comfortable. This is comfortable. This is better than sleeping in the dark with the door closed trapped. Steph’s safe. I’m real glad Steph’s safe.

“Where do you want to sit froggie?”
“Can we go to the roof?”
“I don’t know if we can do that legally kid, and I don’t think either of us want to get kicked out of the library.” I shake my head at Steph.

“No, it’s an on purpose roof place. They got chairs and stuff. You just have to go up through the elevator.”
“Then to the roof we go.” I hold Steph’s hand on the elevator. It’s easy to fall in an elevator. Crash down like a bird with a broken wing. Crash down like a stone falling into a lake. Crash down like ice cream falling off a cone.
“Can we get ice cream later?”
“If you want to.” I squeeze her hand. I like ice cream. I don’t like falling. The elevator beeps when the doors open. I wince. Shh. Don’t be rude . We step out and onto the balcony. There’s little trees in potted plant things and paths and patches of grass with flowers and things.
“See? It’s pretty.”
“You were right Eve, it is pretty.” They have chairs set up in places too. “Where do you wanna sit?” I go to the corner across from us. It’s the most comfortable one. No one else is up here, it’s just us.
“Is this good?”
“Yeah, it is. Do you want to read or me?”
“Can you read?”
“No problem V.” I like the nickname V, it’s a new one. “Want to start at chapter two?” That sounds good. “Chapter two the otters. The island’s northern shore had become something of a robot gravesite. Scattered across the rocks were the broken bodies of- Eve are you sure you want to read this book?”
“It gets happier…sorta.”
“Right now it’s feelin’ a smidge morbid.”
“Roz is the only one right now. But she isn’t the only one forever. She gets a family.”
“Roz is the robot?” I nod seriously. “Are there other robots there?”
“No, she’s friends with animals. She dances in grass and dirt and laughs with them. And she makes fires and houses and tells the animals not to eat each other inside her house, only outside it, cause she’s there safe spot.”

“This is a weird children’s book.”
“It’s a good one, promise.”
“I believe ya froggy.” Steph dramatically clears her throat. “Scattered across the rocks were the broken bodies of the four dead robots. They sparkled in the early-morning light. And their sparkles caught the attention of some very curious creatures.”
“Is it otters?”
“Yeah, it’s the otters.” I smile. I remembered that. I’m glad I remembered that. 

I have hot chocolate. I like hot chocolate. I don’t like how coffee tastes anymore. Coffee is what Steph has. We stopped at a coffee place. We got muffins too. Steph’s supposed to be at class but she decided to hang out with me instead. I wish she hadn’t, I don’t want to be in the way. But she wouldn’t change her mind. I’m a little bit glad, I’m a lot of bits glad. I’m glad I get to see Steph. I love Steph.
“Can you hear me V?” I wince. “It’s okay. I’m just checkin’ in.”
“I forgot to listen.”
“That’s okay. Want me to start back at the otter part?” I nod. Focus. I need to focus. “Can I ask you a question first?”
“You want to talk about Dad.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“What did he say when you talked to him?” Steph does that face when she’s trying not to wince. Oh. That’s not good.
“We didn’t agree about how he reacted when you got startled.”
“I didn’t mean to flinch.”
“I know. It’s not something anyone can control.” I wish Dad knew that. “Can you tell me what happened that scared you?”
“I wasn’t scared.”
“You were shaking V and you had your eyes shut.” Steph’s not trying to be mean but she’s wrong. She’s not wrong that I was scared but she’s wrong that it’s Dad’s fault. I think.
“It doesn’t matter. Dad just got annoyed I flinched.”
“Was that the first time he got annoyed?” I don’t answer. It isn’t. When he snapped at me, after he got stabbed, that wasn’t the first time he’s snapped. He’s gotten annoyed before. Mad. But he always says sorry and he always does better, at least for a bit. He’ll start doing better soon, it’ll be better soon, and then it’ll all be okay. “Can you promise you’ll get me if you need me Eve?”
“Dad isn’t doing anything bad.”
“I’m not saying he isn’t. He shouldn’t snap at you but that’s not what I mean. I mean that if you need, or want me, I want you to get me. You can text me or get your Dad to bring you to my apartment or whatever. I’ll be there froggie. I promise.”

She feels bad she wasn’t there before. When Tim died. While Ra’s had me and Dad. I know that. I wish I didn’t know that. I pretend that she isn’t sad and she pretends she doesn’t feel guilty. I don’t know how to talk about it. It’s such a big thing and I want things to be small. I’m content looking at puddles. I don’t want a whole ocean anymore. I can’t handle a whole ocean of things anymore. I just…I just want life to be little. I want to read books and have muffins and blankets. I want hugs and pasta and someone to braid my hair. I just want a puddle.

“Please V?”
“I promise.”
“Promise promise?”
“Promise promise.” 

“Steph, do you just drive when you’re with me?”
“Yeah, for the most part.”
“Is it annoying to drive when you’re with me?”
“No, it isn’t.” Outside the window looks like it always does. Gotham looks the same all the time. But this time there’s snow. It’s been lightly snowing for awhile. It’s making me shiver, even though the heaters on. “I don’t mind driving for you V.”
“I can walk.”
“But it’s hard. So you don’t have to.” It is hard. It’s loud and overwhelming and walking far makes me feel sick. I can do a few blocks and be fine, but going far makes me feel really bad. “And drivings easier anyway. It’s not like I’m the one paying for-drivings easier anyway.” Right. Bruce pays for a bunch of stuff.

We don’t really talk about Bruce. He was bad, when Dad was dead. It was kinda a thing. A big deal type of thing. I don’t think anyone ever told Dad. It wasn’t the biggest priority. Tim was dead, and I was hurt, and Dad was hurt, and there were a lot of problems. I didn’t remember it all the way. I found my journal. What I wrote while everything was-while Dad was dead. My handwriting was scrambled. It got worse the farther into the book I read. It felt like reading a book, a book made with someone else’s hand. A hand on a page with paper stained with tears and blood and coffee. A hand on a page with paper stained with words full of anger and revulsion and fear. A hand on a page with paper strained with hurt. I was hurting a lot. The other Bats didn’t help.

I didn’t want to deal with the other Bats. Just Steph and Tim. Damian, sort of. I think Damian forgot I exist. I wish he didn’t forget. I miss him. I miss him like I miss Tim. It feels like they both died. I wish Tim was here. I’m glad Steph is. Steph isn’t really a Bat anymore. She’s safe. Tim died and now Steph is actually paying attention to college. She’s going to get out of Gotham. I hope she does. 

Bruce pays for a lot of Steph’s stuff. I don’t care but I think she thinks I do. I don’t really know. I’m glad Steph doesn’t have to work and go to college. That sounds hard. I don’t like thinking about Bruce. Or Dick. Neither of them are very nice. I got Tim killed. I was not nice while Dad was dead. I got Tim killed. It makes sense that they don’t like me anymore. I wouldn’t like me anymore either. 

“Can you hear me froggie?” I look away from the window. I can see Steph. Steph is waiting for me to answer.
“Uh huh.”
“You sure you want to go to Jasons? I don’t mind if you stay with me longer.” I shake my head yes.
“I want to go back to Dad.” I don’t want Dad to be alone. That does not sound fun. “Was Dad okay when you talked to him?”
“Yeah. Why do you ask?” I shrug.
“He got stabbed.” When I thought he was dead. He was not dead. Just hurt. Then he got mad at me. And now I am pretending it didn’t happen, so that Dad still likes me. Steph winces.
“That must’ve sucked.”
“It is not fun to be stabbed.”
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be fun for you to see him hurt either.” Dad getting hurt matters more than me being scared. “How long ago was that?” Two nights ago.
“I’m not all the way sure.” I’m not one hundred thousand million percent sure. Just most of the way sure. So it isn’t a total lie. “Steph where’s my backpack?”
“You left it in the backseat. You’ve still got it.” Good. I don’t want to lose it. We are here. I hope Dad isn’t mad anymore. I don’t think he will be. He doesn’t stay mad long. This time I won’t mess up. Steph hands me my backpack when we get out. “It’s got your book to.” That’s good. I don’t want to lose my book. It’s got to go home with it’s family soon. I reach for Steph’s hand and she holds onto mind tight. She squeezes it once. I squeeze it twice while we walk. We’re going inside the apartment building. She squeezes it three times. I squeeze back four times.
“I win.” Four is the most we ever do. I remember that. Steph smiles.
“Yeah, you do.” We’re in the elevator. Up and up and up. I don’t like going up. Or down. I want to stay in the same spot. I feel dizzy. I rub my eyes with my other hand. The one I’m not holding onto Steph with. “Did you get any sleep V?”
“I slept some.” I didn’t know she knew I woke up. I was quiet. I did the dishes and tidied and stuff but I was quiet.
“You should probably go to bed early.” I wrinkle my nose. Boring. “Yeah, yeah, it’s lame but it’s better than being exhausted.” My head gets weird when I’m exhausted. I do not like it.
“Kay. That makes sense.” We’re out of the elevator. That makes me feel better. We’re at the door. Dad’s on the other side of the door. I look at the doorknob. I couldn’t open it when I was supposed to. Dad was not really dead. Or dying. But I was not aware of that. I failed. I was pathetic. I don’t want to touch it. Touching it feels bad.
“Eve, are you sure you don’t want to come back with me for another day?” I look at Steph. I do not understand.
“Why?”
“Cause you don’t seem particularly excited to see your Dad. Which makes sense, because he wasn’t nice to you.”
“I am the one who flinched.”
“Yeah, I know. But he’s the one who got mad.”
“Not mad. Just annoyed. There’s a difference.”
“He shouldn’t have gotten annoyed either.” Dad got hurt. A lot. And that was my fault. It’s okay for him to get annoyed with me. That is how it works. I squeeze Stephs hand.
“I promised. I’ll go get you if I need to.”
“Or if you want to.”
“Or if I want to. Can you be the one to open the door?”
“No problem V.” Steph opens the door and we go inside. Dad’s sitting on the couch. Steph lets the door shut. “Hey Jason.”
“Hi Steph.” Dad looks at me. I make sure I don’t flinch. I make sure I don’t hold onto Steph’s hand tighter. I make sure I don’t tense up. I make sure I keep my jaw unclenched. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Oh. I was not expecting a sorry.

I don’t want to think about what that sorry means. 

“It’s okay.” I look at Steph seriously. “You need to go do school.” She smiles.
“I will. You need to make sure you eat. And got to bed early.” I don’t want to do that last part.
“Kay.” I hug her really tight. “Love you.”
“I love you to Eve.” Steph leaves. I take off my shoes. I don’t know if Dad’s going to talk or if I should. I don’t know what to do. I put my backpack in my room. I take my book out first. The book about Roz. I go to the living room. It’s cold. The window is open. I don’t want to sit on the couch and make Dad mad. I don’t want to be alone in my room either. Or sit on the ground.
“Want me to read to you.” Dad sounds stilted. Like he is reading from a script someone else wrote. Words he does not particularly care about but he’s saying anyway. I’ll take that. I nod yes and sit by him, handing him the book. “Where do you want me to start.” 

“Chapter Three?” Dad flips to that page. His arm is a good pillow.
“Chapter Three. The Robot.” This is the chapter where we meet Roz. “The robots computer brain booted up. Her program began coming online. And then, still packed in her crate, she automatically started to speak. ‘Hello, I am ROZZUM unit 7134 but you may call me Roz. While my robotic systems are activating, I will tell you about myself.’” Hi Roz. “‘Once fully activated, I will be able to move and communicate and learn. Simply give me a task and I will complete it. Over time, I will find better ways of completing my tasks. I will become a better robot. When I am not needed, I will stay out of the way and keep myself in good working order.’” I do that too. “‘Thank you for your time. I am now fully activated.’”

-[line break]-

My pillow is moving away. That’s not very nice. I hold onto it with one hand. I do not want it to go. It’s warm and I’m really cold.
“I need to get up.” Dads talking. I drag my eyes open. I think they got sewn together. Or stuck together. With glue or honey. They’re hard to open. Its harder to keep them open. I want to go to sleep. I’m tired. Dad’s arm is pillow. That makes sense. Pillows don’t normally move. Unless there’s snakes in them. I don’t want there to be snakes in my pillow. Or snakes in Dads arm. That doesn’t sound very comfortable. “Now Eve.” Right, I need to move so Dad can get up. I pull away but he doesn’t move. His hand is on my forehead. That feels good. Dad exhales sharply. I think he’s annoyed. Not mad, just annoyed. But that isn’t good. “Stay here.” Okay. I can do that. “Did you hear me?” 

“I’m staying here.” 

My words feel like cotton. Dad nods and stands up. He’s going. Oh. Right. He’s going, and I’m staying. It’s cold. I do not like that. My book is on the other side of the couch. I reach for it. I don’t want to read, I just want it. The window is open. I can see it. That means it’s cold. It’s snowing. Snow is not good. Well, it is good for some things. It makes things. Snowmen. Snowballs. For snowball fights. It means you can go sledding. Snow angels. Snow is good, but just for some things. It’s annoying for other things. Like wanting to be warm. I want hot chocolate. I look around.

It’s dark because it’s night time. Night time means sleeping. Or patrolling. Because Dad does that now. I want hot chocolate but I can’t reach it, the hot chocolate stuff is too high. I think it’s too high. I’ll go check. If it is too high I can wait for Dad to come home, and if it isn’t then I can have hot chocolate for Dad when he gets here. That’ll be good. I feel wobbly. Wobbly like a tower going to collapse. Like jenga half undone. I don’t want to topple over. That wouldn’t be fun. I don’t want to crash into pieces on the ground. 

I’m okay though. It just takes a minute. Now I’m okay. So now I’m going to…what am I going to do? I’m cold. I want to be not cold. I look around. The door is closed. The tv is on, but there’s no sound. There’s nothing on it. It is just on. The door is closed. The window is not closed, that isn’t very nice. It’s cold outside. The hallway is empty. The light is off. My door is closed, I can see it from here. I want to go open it, I don’t like it when my door is closed. But I don’t want to go in the dark hallway. Okay. I…I’m going to…I don’t want to go to the hallway. I’m cold. I want hot chocolate. I’m going to go make hot chocolate. The tiles in the kitchen are cold. I don’t like that. At all. 

Dads here. That’s good, I like being with Dad. He’s looking for something in the basket of medical stuff on the table. I stand right by him and look at it. I don’t know what he’s looking for.
“What are you doing Eve.”
“I’m getting…” I don’t know what I’m getting. “I was getting something.” It doesn’t matter anymore, I got Dad. “What are you doing?”
“Go sit down.” Dad doesn’t sound happy. I sit down at the chair next to Dad. I tilt my head and look at the stuff on the table. “That isn’t what I meant and you know it.” Those are bandages, they’re all wrapped up like cocoons. I wonder what would come out of a bandage cocoon. Butterflies come out of cocoons, and moths I think. So maybe a bandage cocoon would make a really pretty moth. That’d be nice. “Eve.” There are bottles of stuff. I reach for one and put it right in front of me. I grab another and put it next to the first one. They aren’t the same height. I grab another. It’s the biggest. I put it on the right, by Dad. I grab another. It’s little. It goes on the left. Now they’re all lined up. There’s a lot more. I want to line them all up, then they’ll all be together and not lonely anymore. “Joey listen .” I flinch back. I look at Dad. He’s angry, I don’t know why he’s angry. I didn’t do anything, I don’t think I did.

“You promised.” He said he wouldn’t use that name anymore. I told him I didn’t like that joke and he promised to be done calling me Jo-he promised to be done calling me that. His face changes fast. For a second he looks something kind of like guilty then it just turns into mad.

“You weren’t listening.” I don’t understand.
“I didn’t hear you.” I didn’t, not until I heard that name. I was just…I was just lining things up. Dad was doing his thing and I was doing my thing and that was good. Dad looks at me. I look at him. He looks mad. I’m confused. I don’t know how to fix it, because sorry doesn’t fix anything. “What were you looking for?” Maybe we can just be all done talking about hard stuff. Dad starts putting stuff back in the basket.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” I don’t want him to break the line of things I made. They’re supposed to stay together. Dad’s picking up the other stuff, maybe he’ll leave it alone. That would be good. Then they’ll all stay together and all be okay. I don’t know why he was getting out medicine stuff.
“Did you get hurt?” I don’t want Dad to be hurt. He doesn’t look at me.
“No.” I don’t know if Dad doesn’t want to talk or if he doesn’t know what to talk about. I trace a crease on the tablecloth. Over and over. Back and forth. I want a hug, I feel tired. And bad. I feel icky. Like a pile of goopy slime. I don’t want to be a pile of goopy slime. Maybe I got attacked by a goopy slime monster bad guy. That would be funny. Actually, it’s Gotham. Maybe those do exist. That would be interesting.
“Dad?”
“What.”
“Do goopy slime monster bad guys exist?”
“What are you talking about.” I look up from the table cloth. Dad is glaring. Not all the way glaring but he is glaring. I try to keep my face okay. But the hurt is overflowing. Piling out. It is like water in a strainer, it doesn’t matter how much you try to keep the water inside it’s going to leak out. The tears on my face feel like boiling water and ice cold. “You won’t listen. You refuse to listen to anything I say.”
I need to stop crying. I need to keep the hurt stuck inside, I need to make it all better. Dad’s talking but I can’t-His words are bleach on my skin, harsh and screaming in pain. His voice is like ice thats so hot it burns while I try to hold onto it. His anger feels like it’s scraping against my skin, like the ground when you fall. All together they are screaming and the smell of blood and burns on my skin. All together they are laughing and nails ripped off my hand and cuts laced with salt. All together they are crying and begging and poison. And I don’t understand what I did that was so bad and so wrong and made it so all this was okay.
“-attention seeking-”

I don’t understand why he said Joey. I’m not Joey. That was a bad joke, I wish Dick never said it. I wish Dad never laughed. I wish Damian never avoided my eyes when I looked at him for help. I wish Dick never thought it. I wish it wasn’t a joke with the bats. I know Dad calls me Joey a lot of the time, but he said he wouldn’t call me that to my face, that’s all I wanted. I can pretend he doesn’t say it at all. I just don’t want him to call me Joey to my face. I’m not that. I’m not…I’m not that. It’s a joke, I know they’re joking, but I don’t think it’s funny. 

“-ridiculously ungrateful-”

I wish I did this right. I wish I said the right words and I wish that I was good enough for Dad to care enough to listen to me. I was just, I just was in the living room. And the window was open, I was so cold. I am so cold. It hurts. I’m shivering, and I’m cold. Dad is yelling, he’s getting more and more mad, and I can’t say anything. There’s no point talking. No point talking. I want to have the right words. I want to stop crying. That is making it all so much worse.
“After everything you did Joey is one of the better names we could call you.” 

I wish he hadn’t said that. I got called a lot of names. Liar. Untrustworthy. Revolting. Violent. Unpredictable. Pathetic. Vile. Marionette. Killer. Useless. Joey is the newest mean one. It wasn’t, it isn’t mean. It just feels mean. Steph doesn’t know about Joey. I didn’t tell her, I don’t want her to get mad at Dad about it. It’s just a joke. I just don’t like the joke. I wish Dad would call me nicknames like Steph does. Frog. Froggie. Eve. There are more. I can’t hold onto them. She calls me a lot of names.

“You can’t even be bothered to answer , you don’t get to avoid every conversation you don’t want to have by checking out and pretending not to pay attention.” 

Dad is angry. He is still talking. I want the words to stop. They are not nice words. I did what I did for him. I got the names I got for him. I didn’t want them. They got branded

onto my skin. Burned into my brain. Lingering like a bad perfume. Staining my hands. Staining my mind. Stuck there. Repeating over and over. I did not think I deserve to be called Joey. It is not a nice name. I did everything I did for Dad. I hurt people for Dad. I killed them. I died. More than once. A lot of times. I don’t remember how many anymore. I did bad things. But it wasn’t for fun. It wasn’t because I wanted to. I just wanted Dad back.

“Joey, look at me .” 

I wish I told Steph about it. About the name Joey. I didn’t because I didn’t want her to yell at Dad. I don’t want her to get mad at Dad. I don’t. But I want a hug. I want a hug and for her to tell me the name Joey is wrong. What Joey stands for is wrong. I want her to tell me Tims death wasn’t entirely my fault. I want her to lie. I want the comfort of lies. They’re nice. I want Steph here. I want Steph.
“I promised.” Dad huffs.
“What are you talking about.” I keep my eyes on the ground. I can’t see anything but some of the floor and my hair. It’s in falling in front of my face. A waterfall. A scatterings of vines. A veil.
“I promised Steph I’d get her. If I needed to. Or wanted to.” The words are laced with my hurt. They are poisoned with it. I am crying and it shows. Dad will not say yes, I don’t think. “You can keep being mad. I want to go to Steph when you’re done.” I wait for him to start being loud. I wait for his words to fill up every part of my head. I wait for the hurt. But it doesn’t come. Nothing more than a scoff while he walks away.
He has left the kitchen. I look out the kitchen doorway. The tv turns on. I can see it from here. I do not know what he is watching. I don’t care. I don’t want Dad. I want Steph. I want to go find Steph. I stand up. I don’t feel good. I look at the line of things I made. Bye. I cross the kitchen. It’s cold. I don’t make any noise. I go to my room. I get my backpack. The running away one. I’m not running away. I just want Steph. Steph doesn’t yell. Steph doesn’t call me Joey. Steph doesn’t make me cry. Steph cares when I cry. That matters the most. 

I have my backpack. I put on my shoes. I want my book. It is on the ground on the couch. By Dad. I don’t want to go by him to get it. I don’t know how to ask him to take me to Steph. He is not going to look at me. That is clear. I think this is the silent treatment. Maybe. I don’t know. My head hurts. I’m cold. I feel bad.
“Dad can-”
“Don’t call me that.” I don’t understand. He doesn’t explain. The tv is going. People are arguing on it. At least they are talking. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe he was joking. That’s the only thing that makes sense.
“Can you call Steph?”
“Nope. Phone’s dead.” He’s scrolling on his phone. I can see that. He is not hiding that. I feel bad. Dizzy. Wobbly. I want to sit down.
“It isn’t dead Dad.” I don’t understand what he’s saying.
“I told you not to call me that.” He sounds weird. Pleasant. He’s still mad but he sounds like he is trying not to care. It’s…I’m tired. I’m too tired to figure out what that means. My head hurts. Full of cotton.
“You’re my dad.” That’s all I’ve got left. He’s my dad. I fought to get my dad back.
“You just call me Jason. And I’ll just call you Joey.” I shut my eyes.
“okay.”
“What do you want Joey.” I bite my tongue. I’m not Joey. I’m not what Joey means. I’m not.
“Can you call Steph?”
“No. If you want to go be with Steph find your own way there.” I don’t know how to get to Stephs apartment. “Go to your room or go to Steph.” I wince. I don’t want to be in my room. It’s dark and Dad-Jason doesn’t want me. Jason doesn’t want me anymore and I can’t fix it and I want Steph. “Make up your mind Joey.” I walk into the living room. “Being in here isn’t an option.” I grab my book off the ground. I back up. Away from D-away from Jason. I hold it close. I walk away from the living room. I walk to the door. I can find Steph. She’s only twenty away when we’re driving. About twenty. I can walk that far. I can get to her. Dad doesn’t say anything as the door shuts. Jason. I meant Jason. Jason doesn’t say anything as the door shuts.
I sink onto the ground and start to sob.

-[line break]-

I have my backpack. I should be walking. I need to be walking. I need to find Steph. I don’t know where Steph is. There’s snow falling on my hands. Coating them. I’ve been sitting here a long time. I feel like a statue. Frozen and immoveable and set in stone. Never going to move again. The snow is never going to leave. Just build up and hide me until I’m all the way gone. I want Steph. I want to go home. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m all the way lost. My head hurts and my hands are shaky and I’m on fire and I’m freezing and everything hurts. I want Dad. I don’t want Dad. Dad doesn’t want me anymore. I’m sitting on a bench. It’s night. It’s Gotham. I’m tired and alone and I’m holding onto my book and I don’t have a coat. Jacket. Hoodie. I like hoodies.

I used to steal Dad’s hoodies. Jason’s hoodies. I lived in one while he was gone. If I wasn’t fighting I was in one of Jason’s hoodies. He didn’t like it when I wore them when I got back. When we got back. I don’t know why. I stopped wearing them, when he asked. I used to have one of Tims. Dick took it.

He asked for it. He was mad. I gave it to him. I wish I still had it. But Dick was right. I didn’t deserve it. Don’t deserve it. It’s cold. I wish I had some sort of warm. 

I’m so tired. I’m sitting on this bench and it’s dark and I shouldn’t stay here. I know that. Not stupid. Tim said I’m not stupid. I need to stay that way. I need to stay alive, this time, and not be stupid. I’ve slept outside before. Lots. I just don’t want to get up. I’m so tired. I could just curl up on my side. On the bench. Sleep here. It’d be so easy. But I probably wouldn’t wake up. 

I look at my book. I think about Roz. Roz wakes up all the way alone. Except for the otters. Roz goes through the cliffs. Through the beach. Escapes a crab. Not in that order. She finds a safe forest. That’s before she makes her own. Her own safe place. My safe place is Steph. Not Jason. Not right now. Dad doesn’t love Joey. Dad does love Eve. I’ve just got to get him to see I’m Eve, not Joey. Then it’ll be okay. Until then I’ve got to go find Steph.

But I’m lost. All the way lost. Don’t know where to go. Don’t know how long it’s been since I left. I just need to find a safe space. I can do that. I stand up. My knees hurt as they slam into the ground. That is going to bruise. I want to stay on the ground and sleep. I just want to sleep. I hold onto the bench as I pull myself up. I hold onto my book. I just need to be like Roz. I just need to find my safe space. My temporary one. I look at the alley behind the bench. Less than ideal. Better than collapsing
I get there. I slide onto the ground. There is snow. Snow feels bad. I take my backpack off. I might have something warm inside. I don’t want to look. I’m going to pretend there’s something. I don’t know if there is. There might not be. But I’ll pretend. I have a back up. If this is too much pain I can go get the backup. I won’t take away my hope by checking. I’ll check later. It’s there. It has to be. My backpack is a good pillow. I hug my book. Its corners poke into my chest and arms. It hurts. 

I feel bad. I feel frozen. Ice, I feel like ice. My body feels like ice. The pain is spreading down my arms and legs. It is embedded into my skin. Deep inside. Inside each of my fingers, making its home in my chest, pulsing at my temples. The part of my arm that’s touching the ground is a solid block of pain. My eyes ache. Everything aches, laced with cold. Cold feels like cracks of soft blue and white, the canyons in my skin hinting at red. My entire body feels cracked, deep down, like if I’m touched I’ll be shattered. The blood, the hurt, it’s all bubbling out. Boiling hot but freezing when it comes into contact with the snow and air. The cold smells like sharpness and metal. The cold drags across my skin, making the cracks bigger.

But I’m still on fire. Like inside is boiling. A pot of water. Steam. It coats my lungs, it makes it hard to breathe. The cold air and the steam mash together. I’m so cold on the outside, like ice, and that doesn’t matter to the fire. I’m on fire, burning like a witch at the stake, and the ice creeping over my skin doesn’t care. My eyes are shut. I want to keep them that way. I want to shut it all off. Push it all away. It feels messy. Everything is so messy. Tangled.
Tangled like yards of yarn.

“Wake up.” Words are loud. Loud like yelling. Or trumpets. Or bright white lights. “Joey we do not have time for this.” Loud like glaring. Or bad cologne. Or boiled broccoli. I wince. Shoving isn’t nice. They teach that in kindergarten. I think. I never went. Actually, I don’t think I ever went to school. I should do that, eventually. I drag my eyes open, to see who shoved me. It’s got to be a kid, cause only kids don’t know shoving is rude.
“Dad?” Black hair like Dad has, and blue eyes like Dad has. “Buckets gone.” Dad just has a mask on.
“Can you at least try to be coherent?” That doesn’t sound like Dad’s voice. That’s Nightwing. Dick. I don’t know why he’s here.
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s looking for you because you ran off.” I don’t understand.
“Steph.” I was looking for Steph. The word is slurred, messed up, slow and sticky like honey. Or syrup. Like on waffles. I sit up. Slow. My head hurts.
“-listening?” I’m holding onto a book. It’s my robot book. About Roz. Dick grabs onto my shoulder and shakes it. “Joey.” I wince. Hurts. My head hurts. Shaking makes it hurt worse. I think it might explode, like a can of soda if you throw it at the ceiling a lot. Dick grabs at my shoulder again.
“No more ceiling soda.” It hurts when he makes my head like soda. Dick rolls his eyes. He’s talking into the com, I think. I don’t know who he’s talking to.
“Yeah, like I said, I found them. I’ll bring it back to the cave.” I don’t want to go to a cave. Caves are cold, I’m already cold. “Joey come on.” I’ve got my book. And I have my backpack. Both of them are kind of wet. Because snow. Somethings pulling on my arm. I pull it back, close to my chest. I don’t want anyone to pull on me.
“Where’s Steph?” I want Steph. I want Dad, but he doesn’t want me right now, so I just want Steph.
“Steph,” Dick snaps back, “is busy studying because she has to retake a test. A test she missed dealing with you.”
“I can’t see Steph?”
“No.” Dick is mad. “No you can’t. What you can do is come back to the cave.” I can’t see Steph. I can’t go back to Dad, and I can’t see Steph. She didn’t mean her promise. She didn’t mean it when she said I could go if I needed her. Or wanted her. And, and I needed her this time. Because I can’t go to Dad. “Stop it with the crying Joey.” I want Steph. I, I want to feel better. I want to go to Steph’s apartment. I want a hug, I want her hugs cause they’re really good hugs, and I want to be warm, and I want to have waffles. I want to listen to Steph talk. I want to tell Steph about my day, the good stuff and the bad stuff. The stuff I remember. I just want Steph.
“Go away.” I want Dick to go. He’s making a mad face and I don’t want him by me anymore. I want him to go away. He mutters something under his breath. He’s still mad. I hug my book closer. Dick grabs for my arm again. “I’m gonna yell.” I don’t want him by me. He’s mean, and he hates me a bunch, and he said I was-he said a bunch of bad things. I want Dick to go away.
“If you shut up and come with me without causing any problems I’ll give you a hug once we get to the cave.”
“Is Dad gonna be there?” I’ll go if Dad will be there and I can get a hug. Even if Dick is mean it’ll be worth a hug. Then I can go with Dad. I’ll…I’ll have to be in my room, alone with the door shut. And that’ll be scary. But that’s better than this, if Steph doesn’t want to deal with me either.
“Yeah he will be.”
“Kay.” Standing hurts. It makes me feel dizzy and bad. My backpack is heavy. Heavy like buildings. Heavy like how dark chocolate tastes. Heavy like its full of rocks. I want to open it and check, check to see if it’s full of rocks. Dick is glaring though.
“Give me the backpack or leave it.” I hold it close. I shake my head no. It’s mine, I don’t want Dick to take it to. He took Tim’s hoodie. “Then hurry up.”
“Full of rocks.”
“Uh huh.” He isn’t listening. Walking is bad. It’s hard, like dragging. Dragging a wobbly tower of stuff. Tower of guts and organs and blood and skin. I don’t know what else people are made of. We have hair, sometimes. And nails. I don’t have ally my organs but I do have most of them. So that’s good. I wince at the light. Bright. Hurts. We’re by a lamppost. We’re out of the alley. I don’t feel good. I feel shaky. Bad. I’m shivering. I don’t know why I’m shivering. I don’t think I’ve been outside for so long. The batcar is here. That’s a dumb name. It’s just a car. Not a batcar. “Well are you going to get in or just stare?” I look up at Dick. I don’t understand. That was a lot of words and his voice is nice but his face is mean. The way his hands are is mean, and he’s half glaring, but his voice is pleasant. It’s confusing. “Just get in Joey.”
“Not Joey.” He ignores me. I don’t like it when they call me Joey. Dad said he’d stop, Dick never said he would. I never asked him to stop. I know he won’t. I just don’t like it. I don’t think that matters enough for him to stop. The door opens and I go in the backseat. It’s warm in here. That’s good. I don’t bother with the seatbelt. Hands are mostly numb. Useless blocks of ice. I hug my backpack and my book. Dick is talking to someone. I think it might be Jason.

I’m not totally a block of ice anymore. I’m sweating, I think. I’m on fire, more on fire than before, but it’s better than cold. My head hurts, pulsing kind of hurt. The cold of the window feels good. I have my forehead pressed against it. Gotham is going by fast. Really fast. Speedy. Zoom. Vroom. Fast. Other stuff goes fast. Like crows. And um…I don’t know what goes fast. I want to ask, but I don’t want to ask Dick. He won’t be nice about it. Because it’ll be a dumb question. I ask a lot of dumb questions.
-[line break]-

The car isn’t moving. The door is open. But it isn’t moving. That’s confusing. I can hear people talking. It sounds like Dick and maybe someone else. I can’t figure out who. They feel far away. I drag my eyes open. It’s hard. Magnets, they are stuck together by magnets. I don’t want my eyes to be stuck with magnets. I like my eyes, and I like having them open. I can see the cave. Why are we in the batcave? I don’t understand. I was at home, then Dad…then there was not good stuff. Then I went to get Steph. But I couldn’t find her.
“-oh, come on, you know I figured out that case.” Dad. Dad, and he sounds happy, and that’s good and he’s here.
“I’m pretty sure we figured it out together.” Dick is joking, and he’s happy too, and that means I can have a hug. Cause he said I could, I remember that. I can see Dad and Dick talking, they’re by the batcomputer. I’m still at the batcar. I have my backpack and my book and everything. And now I’ve got Dad too. 

The ground hurts. I’m on the ground. I got out the car and immediately collapsed. I’m good at collapsing. I slide onto the ground. I’m dizzy. Leaning back against the car. My head hurts. Pounding. The spots of black are getting wider and wider, flooding my whole vision. Hurts. It all hurts. I feel like those drawing pads, the ones you shake to clear and start over. It hurts deeply, all the way to the corners of my brain and the outline of my hands. I’m crying. I’m so cold and I’m on fire and it hurts .
“Are you okay?” Dad’s here, sitting in front of me. He sounds annoyed and bored but he’s here. He looks annoyed and bored to. “You shouldn’t have run off.” I just wanted Steph, I thought I could find Steph. Dads hand is on my forehead. “It’s not that high.” I don’t understand what he’s talking about. I lean into his hand. It’s warm and I’m cold.
“They were at 102 last I checked.” I don’t know what Dick means either. Dad scoffs.
“She’s been coherent with a higher fever than that.” Dads hand is gone. I want it back.
“Whose sick?” I don’t know who got hurt, fever isn’t good. It might be Steph, I don’t want Steph to be sick. Dads wearing the Red Hood outfit but he doesn’t have the bucket.
“Can you cut the act Joey. It’s annoying.”

“Dad, who got sick?” I don’t want anyone to be sick. He rubs his left temple. Annoyed. Dad’s annoyed.
“I have told you,” he snaps, “not to call me that.” I look at Dick for help, for an explanation, to help me understand what Dad means. I shouldn’t have, I know as soon as his face changes from a smile to something else that it was a bad idea.
“Jason,” Dick says calmly. He’s happy though. I can tell. “Stop calling him Dad. Just call him Jason.” I look at Dad.
“But…you’re my dad.” I got Dad back. I got the Dad who laughs back and the Dad who loves cooking back and the Dad who tells silly stories and the Dad who is really smart back. I got Dad back. But he’s rolling his eyes. I shut mine. I don’t want to see it any more. “I’m sorry.” I don’t understand what I did. I don’t know, I don’t understand. But I don’t want him to be mad.
“Look at me.” I keep my eyes shut. I’m not opening them. I want to pretend Dad is going to be happy, I want to pretend I’m wrong that he’s mad, I want to pretend he isn’t angry. “Stop acting like I’m going to hurt you.” Dad isn’t mad. He isn’t. I messed up, it’s my fault, I’m going to fix it. “Joey-”
“Not Joey.” Dad doesn’t care about Joey, I know that. There’s a difference, it was just a joke but there’s a difference, between Eve and Joey. Dad loves Eve. He does. Joey is all the bad parts of me, but just the bad parts. Not any of the good. I just, Dad just has to see I’m not Joey. Then it’ll all be okay. I can fix it.
“I’m done.” Dad’s leaving. He’s standing up and he’s going. “I’m heading home.” I don’t think I can stand up right. I want to go home though, I’ll try if it means I can go home. I want my room. I want to hide in it. That’s the safest spot, now that Steph doesn’t want to deal with me anymore. “You’re staying with Dick and the others until you at least pretend you’ll listen.” I look at Dad. Please be kidding. Please, please be joking. Let it be a joke. “You ran away, what did you think was going to happen? That I’d just ignore it?” But, but I didn’t. I just wanted Steph, and Dad said I could go, and and Steph doesn’t want to deal with me but I didn’t know that and there was no way for me to ask.
“Dad, please.”
“Do not,” scary, that voice is scary, “call me that, Joey.” I stare at the ground. It’s stone. It’s cracked. I can hear Dad walk away. He talks to Dick for a couple minutes. I don’t move. If I don’t move I can’t ruin anything else. If I don’t move I can’t mess up anything else. I can just…just be quiet. Nice and quiet. I can’t mess up stuff when I’m quiet. Dad will-Jason, Jason will say it was a joke. Just like calling me Joey. He’ll say it was a joke. He’s going to come back. I hear him leave, go up through the elevator. He’s gone.
He’ll, he’ll come back.

“You can come upstairs when you’re done with your pity party.” Jason will come back, he will. I, I came back for him, when someone took him, he won’t just leave me all the way alone. “Jason put up with too much of your attention seeking bullshit. I’m,” Dick sounds proud, I don’t understand why he sounds proud, “not doing that. You got Tim killed. I’m not letting you get Jason killed.” I don’t want Jason to die, I did everything so Jason wouldn’t die, I tried so hard. “I won’t let him die again, trying to protect you when you aren’t worth it. He’s done that more than enough times.” Stare at the ground. Stare at the cracks. Step on a crack, break someones back. “He isn’t coming back, you know that right?” I want Dick to be quiet. “Tim didn’t come back, because you got him killed.” I didn’t want Tim to come, I never meant for Tim to come, I tried to get him to stay away. “You hurt him, and he still went after you.” I just stabbed his arm a bit, I just needed him out of the way so that he wouldn’t get hurt, I just wanted to save Dad and get back before Tim could get involved. “And he died for it. Jason learned from Tims mistakes. He’s not going to repeat them.” I didn’t want Tim to die. I didn’t want that. I didn’t. 

I hear Dick go. I’m glad he’s gone. I want things to be better. I want to hurt less. I just want to understand why I’m hurting. What I did that was bad. I don’t understand. Steph says it isn’t my fault Tim died. Dad-Jason said that too. Dick says it is my fault. I don’t know. I don’t know what I did that was so bad to make Jason leave me. He, he left. He left me. I pull my knees up close to my chest and bury my face in my arms. He left after I stayed for him. I didn't just stay, I fought for him to get to come home. 

That's why they call me Joey. Because of the stuff I did to get him home. It's a name I got protecting him. I did…I did what I had to. It shouldn't have been something I had to do. That's what Tim said. He said that a lot. That I shouldn't have to do whatever I was doing. I didn't have a lot of choices. I didn't. I did what I had to. If I was really a Joey, if I was really what Dick thinks I am I would've done it for fun. Or or I wouldn't have tried to avoid it. I did my best. That's, that has to count for something. 

It didn't stop Tim from dying. It didn't change anything. Tim died. Steph misses him. Dick misses him. Dad misses him. He saw Tim die. I did to. I don't remember it though. I know I did because other people said so. I don't remember anything right. I don't do anything right. It doesn't matter that I'm trying or that I'm doing my best it just matters that I failed. And I keep failing. I'm never going to stop failing. It doesn't matter what I'm trying to be. It matters what I do. I do Joey stuff. Not Eve stuff. 

Dad-Jason's right. Dick’s right. I'm just Joey. Just Joey. Tim died because I'm just Joey. I don't want Jason to die too.

Chapter Text

I want to go upstairs. Alfred, Alfred’s dead, I know that, and Dick is mean, and I don’t even know if Damian’s here, and I know the others aren’t, and Batman is off-world on another mission, but I still want to go upstairs. Upstairs is warm, and soup, and soft stuff. I can’t have that stuff, probably. Definitely. I don’t know what’s going to happen if I go upstairs. Dick said I was supposed to. Dick’s in charge now, I guess. I don’t like that. I want Jason to be in charge, but he doesn’t want me, so he shoved me over to Dick. Which is lonely. It’s lonely down here.

But it’s not dark. That’s something. The batcave is never entirely dark. But it’s still scary. I don’t like it. But if I go upstairs then…then it might be worse. I can just wait. I can wait for Jason to come back. I should’ve thought of that earlier. I might’ve. Yarn’s hard to follow. I got my backpack and my book. I can stay down here. Jason will know where to find me, so I don’t get lost. Or accidentally run away. That’ll be good.

I get my book out again. It’s the robot book. Roz book. The paper is scratchy. Itchy. Like cinnamon. Or…or something. Like um…I can’t think of the words. I need to think of the words. The page is like when you don’t brush your teeth for a long time. Yeah. That’s how it feels. It feels like hair sticking on your neck. My hair’s doing that. That isn’t very nice. Rude. I feel hot. Gross. And I’m still really cold. Shivering. Like jello. I don’t want to be jello. I look at the book. I open to a random chapter. It’s Chapter 42. The Strange Family. I like this chapter, it’s one of my favorites. 

It was a sweltering afternoon, and the heat had put everyone in a bad mood.

I don’t feel sweltering, I just feel hot. I sort of feel hot. It’s bad. Too many words to figure out what kind of bad. Messy bad. Swirled up hurt bad. Crying bad. Mumbling and whispering and please bad. 

Chapter 43 The Strange Family. It was a sweltering afternoon, and the heat had put everyone in a bad mood. Roz was standing in the shade watching her son out on the water .

Her son is a duck. She adopted him. Roz is a very good mom. She takes care of her kid. She doesn’t leave him all alone. Or call him mean names, even if they are just jokes. 

It was a sweltering afternoon, and the heat had put everyone in a bad mood. Roz was standing in the shade watching her son out on the water. The other goslings were teasing him about something when they suddenly burst into laughter, and Brightbill turned and hurried home with a stormy expression on his face. He stomped into the garden and right past his mother without saying a word . 

Brightbill is her son; he’s also a goose. That is a good name. He’s sad, because people are being mean about Roz. It’s not nice, it’s rude. It’s not okay. Roz doesn’t get mad he’s upset though, she just explains. That’s nice of her. Roz is explaining hard stuff, like how animals and robots aren’t the same. I don’t want to read all that. It makes me tired, an I’m already really tired. 

Parents. The word suddenly left Brightbill feeling uneasy. “You’re not my real mother, are you?” 

“There are many kinds of mothers,” said the robot. “Some mothers spend their whole lives caring for their young. Some lay eggs and immediately abandon them Some care for the offspring of other mothers. I have tried to act like your mother, but no, I am not your birth mother.

Roz adopted Brightbill. That’s how it worked for them. What’s what Jason did with me before we figured out the other stuff. He choose me first, before everything else. Roz chose Brightbill first. Brightbill is a good goose. 

“Do you know what happened to my birth mother?” Roz told Brightbill about that fateful day in Spring. About how the rocks had fallen and only one egg had survived. About how she’d put the egg in a nest and carried it away. About how she watched over the egg until a tiny gosling hated. Brightill listened carefully until she finished .

Roz didn’t mean for Brightbill’s family to die. She didn’t mean to hurt anyone. But she did. So she took care of Brightbill, she took him into her family, and she fixed her mistake. As…as much as she could fix it. 

“Should I stop calling you Mama?” said the gosling.
“I will still act like your mother, no matter what you call me,” said the robot.
“I think I’ll keep calling you Mama.”
“I think I will keep calling you son.” 

I am not sure why I am crying. It might just be cause everything hurts. My head hurts, the feeling of pressure and cotton and pokey needles at my eyes. Breathing hurts, like my entire chest shudders everytime I inhale or exhale. I put the book down. I don’t want to read anymore.
“Are you still throwing a fit?” I jerk back. Ow. I rub the back of my head. It hit the car. My vision gets flooded with black as I move my arm up. Hurts. I didn’t know Dick was here. And I’m not throwing a fit.
“I’m waiting for Jason.” The words don’t sound good. Muffled and smothered, like someone suffocating in a pillow.
“We’ve been over this Joey, he isn’t coming back.” Jason is coming back. He is. An we haven’t been over anything, Dick just left and that was it. I pick up my book again. I open it. I’m not reading it. Open book means go away rude people. Dick is a rude people. He’s mad I’m ignoring him. I can tell because of how he’s breathing. I can hear it. “What did Jason do when you ignored him?” It’s barely a question. I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t a question. I stare at the page.

I don’t go to the cave a lot. Just when Jason wants to go and Steph can’t come hang out with me, or Jason doesn’t want to ask her. I don’t like being here. Dick isn’t very nice, most the time. But he goes away eventually. He gets bored or someone asks him to do something else, like spar or work on a case or something. Then he leaves me alone. He goes away, like a leaf blowing away, or water going down a drain, or a clown disappearing into the sewers. He’ll go soon, then I can go back to reading and waiting for Jason.

“That’s not yours.” He took my book.
“It belongs,” Dick corrects, “to the library.” He taps on the spine, on the library sticker, he’s not being gentle. You’re supposed to be gentle with those. It’s a library rule. It’s important.
“Belongs to the garden lady and the fairies. An sometimes snakes. She said I can read it.” Dick scoffs.
“At least come up with a believeable lie.” But, but that isn’t fair. It did happen. I remember.  

“Not lying.”

I was at the library. I wanted to bring the book home, to its family. It was hard to find. I had to go down the stairs, and that was hard, and there was a scary person. And, and there was the lights. There were fairies. Yeah, there were fairies. I like fairies. And there was the squishy floor and it was bubbly. It moved around. Then there was the garden lady, and she said I can have the books. Borrow them. Because that’s what libraries are for. It’s mine. I can have it. I reach for it, learning forward. It’s hard to move forward, like I’m pushing through a wall of honey and sticky stuff. Dick pulls it further away.

“What fairies did you meet at a library in Gotham?” Dick is mocking me. I don’t know why and I don’t really understand how but he is and it’s mean .
“I want my book.”
“It isn’t yours.”
“Please.” I just want my book. It’s mine for right now. It’s, it’s mine. I want Roz back. I want my book back. Dick is making a bad face. It’s a ‘thinking of bad stuff’ face. I don’t want him to make that face, I want him to go away and leave me alone. 

“Why do you hate the name Joey?”
“book.”
“I’ll give you the book if you answer the question.” I don’t believe him. I don’t have another plan. He crushes the book a bit in his hand, tightening his grip around it like a snake squishing a mouse. I don’t want my book to be squished.
“It’s mean.”
“It’s just a name.”
“Not Joey.”
“I’m pretty sure you are.” Dick is sitting down now, cross legged. He’s still a lot taller than me. He’s flipping through my book. 

“’m not.”
“You get people killed.” I didn’t mean for Tim to die. I tried to keep Tim from dying. “You push people apart.” It isn’t my fault Dick and Damian are mad at each other. It isn’t my fault Jason got mad at the other bats. “You kill people for no reason.”
“Doesn’t make sense.” My words are still messed up, smushed together like a cupcake sandwich. A very bad cupcake sandwich.
“Yeah, I agree, and yet you still do it.” I shake my head no and wince. Hurts. That hurts.
“Not for no reason. Always a reason.” Dick scoffs. “You killed Joker.” He did, he killed Joker, I know that. Batman brought him back but Dick killed him.
“Yeah, I did kill the Joker. Because he got people killed. Because he pushed people apart. Because he kills for no reason. Because he got Jason hurt and killed. Like you do.” The stone has cracks in it. I want to keep staring at the cracks. That’s better than answering. “Any other reasons you don’t like the name Joey?” I’m not Joey. I’m not. “It’s accurate. I thought you were all about accuracy.” I wince. I shouldn’t have. I need to get away from that that topic, that night, I can’t talk about that with Dick, I’d rather talk about it with anyone but Dick.
“Joey’s a mean joke.”
“That’s the only reason you’ve got for hating it? Really?”
“Not a Joey.” My head hurts. Dicks voice is so loud. I want him to be quieter. Heads full of cotton. I don’t want anymore words.
“But you are. You know you are.” Joey is a shortened version of Joker Eve. I’m not Joker. I’m just Eve. Joey is a mean name, a wrong name, I’m not Joey. I’m not evil or awful or bad, I’m not bad like the Joker is. I didn’t mean to mess up, I didn’t mean for Tim to die. I didn’t mean for Dad to die. I didn’t mean for it to happen, Joker meant for it to happen. 

I didn’t want to do what I did. I didn’t want to kill people. I didn’t want to be Marionette. A puppet. Useless. Garbage. Unpredictable. Liar. Untrustworthy. Revolting. Violent. Pathetic. I didn’t want to be that. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be a Joey, I just wanted my d-I just wanted Jason back. I never meant for Tim to die. I never meant for them to hurt Jason. I never meant to go as far as I did. I never wanted that. Joker does want that, he’s only doing it for fun, he’s bad because he wants to be. I didn’t want to. I had to. 

“Not Joey. Tim said.” I cut off Dick. I didn’t realize he was talking.
“Tim,” Dick snaps, “was dead before we started to call you Joey.” He was.
“Said I wasn’t.” It’s more complex than that, I know that, it’s all twisted and messy in my head. The yarn is tangled, messy and twisted, and old. It’s hard to sort through old yarn.
“That’s before you got him killed.”
“Didn’t mean-”
“It doesn’t matter what you meant to do. He’s still dead.” I just want my book back. I answered so I could have my book back, I like my book. It’s about Roz. I like Roz. “How many times have you read it?” I don’t understand. “Read the book Joey.” He sounds annoyed. He always sounds annoyed. I shrug. I don’t know.
“Want it back.”
“How many times have you read it.” I don’t know. “Have you ever gotten to the end?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what happens?” I don’t remember. “How many times did you get to the end?” I remember closing the book. I stood up, happy, and got off my bed. I made it to the doorknob before I remembered. Before I remembered Jason didn’t want to talk to me. Before I remembered Jason doesn’t want to listen to me tell him about the book. Before I remembered Jason didn’t want to be around me. It wasn’t fun to remember. “You’ve read this book, listened to this book, who knows how many times and you still don’t remember what happens.” I’m not good at remembering. That isn’t, that isn’t my fault. “You can’t remember the plot of a book for kids.” I am still a kid, sort of. I’m fifteen. Or sixteen. I don’t remember. It’s messy.
“Give it back.” Dick ignores me.
“How can you be sure you’re remembering anything right. How can you be sure you’re right about what Tim thought.”
“Steph said.”
“And what if you’re remembering what Steph said wrong?” I…I don’t think I am. I want to go to Steph, she said I could, she promised. I can’t though. I can’t because I couldn’t get to her.
“Steph wouldn’t.” She wouldn’t lie.
“She didn’t want to look for you while you were missing.” She had school. School’s important. I was lost and it was cold and it wasn’t, it wasn’t a good time. It was hard. But she still cares about me, I think. “She didn’t want to get you. Jason asked if she could stay with you before he asked me. She said no.” She’s busy, it’s normal for people to be busy. I wish she wasn’t. Because I don’t want to be alone with Dick. “She said she didn’t want to deal with you.” I wince. Oh. “Steph and Jason both don’t care what happens to you, because all you do is hurt people Joey .” I just want my book. I just want Dick to go away and let me have my book. 

My head hurts so bad. There are endless bugs crawling around inside it, pressing against my skull. They’re pushing outwards. They’re pressing on my eyes and it aches. It feels like they’re moving around my brain and making it scream. They’re gathered at my forehead and temples making those spots pulse with pain. They’re hot like fear and cold like hatred. They’re burning like mosquito bites. They’re frozen like a needle pushing into skin. It’s going to explode, my head is going to explode. I don’t want my head to explode. I want the bugs gone but not like that. 

“-I don’t know why Jason let you get away with ignoring him but-” Dick is holding onto my arm, I don’t want him to touch my arm. I try to yank it away but he won’t let me. He’s talking and I can’t hear it over the screaming of bugs in my head. It hurts, he’s holding on to tight and it hurts. Crushing, like stepping on a cheerio. Smashing, like squashing a firefly. Squeezing, like holding onto slime. 

“Stop.”
“Stop ignoring me.” I can’t understand what he’s saying, it doesn’t make sense, I want my arm back, I just want my arm back.
“Not slime. Arm’s not slime.” Dick just holds on tighter. The bugs in my head are screaming, my head is going to explode, and my arm is slime and I want Dick to go away, to get away from me.
“That doesn’t make any sense-” I don’t want my head to explode, I don’t want my arm to be slime, I don’t want my head to explode, the bugs are going to come out, I don’t want my arm to be slime. “Stop muttering.” I don’t want my arm to be bugs, I don’t want my head to break like slime. I don’t want Dick to take my book, I want my book, I want my head to be quiet, I want my arm back. “Shut up Joey.” I want my arm to be made, I want my arm to be made of bones not slime, I don’t want a slime arm. “Shut. Up.” Dick lets go of my arm.

The bugs in my head calm down. My arm hurts, he grabbed on tight before letting go. But it isn’t slime. Just an arm. My head isn’t going to explode it just hurts. I have my book. I’m holding onto my book. Everything feels far away. Dick is talking. I can see his face moving. I know sounds are coming out of his mouth. His hair looks weird. He huffs. He’s annoyed. I hug my book closer. Mine. It’s mine, the garden snake and the fairy ladies gave it to me.
Dick is saying something. It sounds all muffled. I rub my eyes. I’m tired. I want to sleep, but I don’t think that’ll be okay with Dick. He seems mad. He let go of my arm though, he made it no longer slime. That’s good. I don’t want a slime arm. I look at my arm. He grabbed the left one. I think it’s the left one. I can’t tell. Hurts too much to think about. It’s bruising really fast. It hurts. I don’t want a slime arm. Or a bruised arm. I want a normal people arm. No bugs in it.
“Joey, can you listen for three seconds.” I drag my eyes up. Dick is talking. “Get in the car.” Are we going somewhere? I don’t know why we’re going somewhere. “Now Joey.” I reach for my backpack. It’s gone. Dick is standing up. He tosses it into the backseat. The door is still open. I have my book. I want to read it. I trace the cover. I trace Roz. Roz is on an island. That’s nice. Islands are nice. Grabbing someone’s arm and yanking them upwards is not nice. I pull away from Dick. He lets me go. I feel wobbly. Like those toys with the weird heads. Boba heads. Yoda heads. Something like that. “Get,” Dick is snapping at me, that isn’t very nice, “in the car.” I get in the car. The door almost shuts on my hand. That would not have been fun. I don’t want my hand to be squished.

We’re out of the batcave. I don’t really know where we’re going. My forehead is on the window. It’s cold. Cold doesn’t feel good. I don’t care enough to move. Well, I care enough. But movings hard. And it’ll be cold everywhere. Cold is sneaky. Lingers. Doesn’t go away. Stuck, it makes you stuck. I got my backpack. It’s on the ground by my feet. And I got my book. And we’re going somewhere. I don’t know where we’re going. Steph doesn’t want to see me, cause I’m bad and stuff. And Jason doesn’t want to either. Maybe Jason changed his mind. I can go home if he changed his mind. I want Dad-Jason, I mean Jason. I meant Jason. I want Jason to change his mind. That would be good.
“Dick?” My words sound all weird. I don’t like it.
“What do you want.” Oh Dick is mad.
“Goin to Jason?”
“Yeah, sure.” 

Yay. I was right, we are going to go see Jason. Jason can’t hate me all the way if we’re going to see him. I like seeing Jason. I did a lot of stuff to see Jason, cause he was dead. I don’t feel good. I feel like fire and cold. I feel heavy. Like I’m made of sand. I look at my reflection. I am not made of sand, I don’t think. That would be scary. I don’t think people can be made of sand. That doesn’t sound very good. My eyelids are made of sand. Heavy heavy heavy. Crashing to the ground like a star. Or a rock. Or a watermelon someone threw off a roof. Splat. Broken. Explode.
“Broken sandy watermelon.” The words are mumbly. It’s hard to make words sound normal. All messy. Messy like sandy watermelon.

“If you could shut up for about three seconds that’d be good.”
“Dad?” It feels like it’s Dad. Because it isn’t Steph. Only Steph and Dad give me hugs. The sound, the voice, is Dicks though.
“Do you know what the words shut up mean Joey.” Windows shut. Open, shut, open, shut. They go up and down too. Shut, up, shut, up.
“Windows.” Shut up means windows. “Sliding windows.” Dick ignores me. That isn’t super nice. Dick wasn’t hugging me, he was carrying me. I don’t know why though. I could probably walk, if my legs aren’t slime. I’m on the ground now. Somewhere. I don’t know where. It’s scary. Dark. “Wheres Dad?”
“Of course you remember that.” I don’t know what that means. Dick drops my backpack by me and my book. The book lands on the ground hard. Poor book. “Jason’s going to come here.” My book is mostly okay. I hug it. Sorry book. The cover is all safe because of the plastic thingy. They should make plastic thingies for people. Then they can be safe too. “He’ll come whenever you stop lying and ignoring people.” Roz is on the book. Hi Roz. Roz is a robot. She is a good robot. She lives on an island. “Joey.” Ow. Dick flicked my forehead. That isn’t nice. That hurt. “Listen.”
“I wanna see Dad.”
“Jason. Call him Jason.” He’s my dad though. Dick’s being weird. “Do you know where you are?” I look around. It’s a spooky bad place. It’s all the way abandoned. It’s broken too. I can see some of the sky through a broken piece of ceiling.
“Cloud.” I can see clouds. I like clouds.
“No, you aren’t in a cloud.” Dick is mad. He rolls his eyes. “You’ll figure it out.” Uh huh, I did figure it out. We’re at a spooky cloud place. Mystery solved. Like those mystery people. The ones with the puppy. And they eat lots of stuff. And they’re weird. They have a car. I don’t know what they’re called. Dick is talking. “-you’re staying here until you stop being a Joey.” I don’t want to stay here. It’s scary. And very dark. Dick has a flashlight but that’s the only light there is except from the ceiling. I’m in the corner of a room. It’s scary. I don’t like it.
“I want D-Jason. I wanna see Jason.”
“Jason will get you when you stop being a Joey.” I don’t know what that means. Dick drops the flashlight on the ground. I reach for it, holding it tight. I don’t want to be in the dark. He’s walking away.
“Dick?” I didn’t know he’d go. I don’t want to be alone here. It’s, it’s really scary. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what I’m sorry for. I don’t know if I’m the one who needs to be sorry. I just don’t want to be here. Dick doesn’t answer. He doesn’t react, he’s just all the way gone. 

I hold the flashlight really tight. It’s dark. It’s very very dark. Dark like midnight shadows. Dark like gross chocolate. Dark like screaming. Dark like smothering. Dark like being lost. Dark like being confused. Dick left me here. I need to remember that. Dick left me here. Dick left me here. I am not lost. Dick left me here. I was bad, I think. Dad doesn’t want me. I remember that. Dick left me here. Steph doesn’t want me either. Dick left me here. Tim is dead and I’m not allowed to love him anymore. Dick left me here. Damian doesn’t care if I’m dead or alive. Dick left me here. I’m alone in the dark. Dick left me here. My arm hurts. My head is full of bugs. My legs are slime. Dick left me here.

I don’t want to be here. It’s not all the way dark. I have my flashlight. That’s good. It’s so cold here. The wind is crawling inside and biting me. Driving it’s teeth into me. From the inside. Burrowing in my organs. What’s left of my organs. I still have some of them. The wind is cold. I don’t want that. It hurts. Dick left me here. In the cold. Dick left me here. It’s scary. Spooky. Not Halloween spooky. Scary spooky. Mean spooky. It hurts. Everything hurts. Dick left me here. I don’t want to be here. I want to go to Steph. I want Steph. Steph has hugs and warm and candles. Steph calls me froggie. Steph says I’m not bad. Dick left me here. Because Steph doesn’t want me. And Jason doesn’t either. Dick was the last person and he just wanted me to be mean.

Dick left me here. No one else cares. Dick left me here. In the dark. In the cold. In the hurt. I feel bad. Dick left me here. Dick left me with the dark. Dick left me with slime legs and a slime arm. Dick left me with screaming bugs in my head. Dick left me with wind that keeps stabbing me. Dick left me with boiling in my lungs and head. Dick left me with eyes going to pop out my head they hurt so bad. Dick left me because no one else wants to deal with me. 

I have a flashlight. I hug my flashlight close. It’s gonna be okay. I can wait for Dad-I can wait for Jason. I can wait for Dick to come back and not leave me here. I can wait for them. It’ll be okay. I can wait. It’s not all the way bad. I’ve felt bad before. Been in the dark before. Been alone before. A lot of times. It’s not all the way dark. I’ve got the flashlight. I’ve got it. It’s safe. I can see if something comes. If someone comes. Nothing so bad can happen if I can see. I hug the flashlight tighter.
“Gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

It will be. I’ve got light. I’m not all the way alone. I’ll be able to see when Dad-when Jason comes and gets me. I, I can read, until Jason gets here. Yeah, yeah then I don’t have to see everything I can’t see. The shadows. I don’t have to see those. I pull the flashlight a bit. Just a little. I get the book. Hi book. Roz is on it. I found Roz. I’m, I’m not all the way alone. Jason left. Steph left. Dick left. Damian left. Tim left, that one’s my fault. They’re all my fault. But I got Roz. I can see it. The words. They’re hard to make out but I can see them.

The flashlight goes out. It won’t turn back on.

The ground hurts against my face. There are stones, pebbles, pushing against my face. It hurts. They’re stuck on my cheek and the side of my forehead. It hurts. I don’t move. Everything hurts. Moving won’t help. My eyes are closed. That’s good. There’s nothing else, just the ground. Just my book. My hair. It feels bad. Gross. Matted. I don’t want it to be like that. I feel bad. I press my head a bit against the ground. I’m going to pretend it’s soft. And warm. Like a bed. Or a blanket. Or a pillow. That sounds good.

I’m going to pretend that I’m warm. And at home. Doesn’t have to be home. It just needs to be not here. I don’t want to be here. I’m going to pretend it’s safe. I can hear rain. It’s windy. It’ll probably turn into snow soon. That’ll be worse. The rain sounds nice. I can hear it hitting the ground. The stone. It’s coming in from the ceiling. No, no it’s hitting the ceiling. I can hear it from inside. I’m inside somewhere. Somewhere with warm air. Not air conditioning. It’s…it’s the other one. The one with the warm. Not the cold. 

I’m going to pretend I’m somewhere I can ask what the word is. The word for the thing that makes warm air. And I’m going to pretend I have light. The flashlight isn’t working. It’s still in my hand. I’m, I can pretend it works. Yeah. I can pretend. My eyes are shut. It’s dark anyway. No reason to think it doesn’t work. Nothing saying it doesn’t work. It’s okay. We’ll…we’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I wasn’t okay last night. Because it was dark. No way out of the dark. But it isn’t that anymore. It isn’t. Not scared anymore. Just tired.

When I do open my eyes I’m hugging the flashlight. I have that. I like having that. But it isn’t where the light is coming from. The light is falling. Falling falling down. It’s coming from the ceiling. That’s pretty. I can see it on the ground. Hi light. The edges of my brain are very fuzzy. Like a blanket. I want a blanket. I like blankets. I don’t have any. I’m in an abandoned place. All the way alone. But I can see the ceiling. No ceiling. I can see the sky. It’s cloudy. But there’s some light. The ground is wet. Water. Rain.

There wasn’t light. Last night. It…it was so dark. I want to shut my eyes. I don’t want to see anything else. I want the world to go away. But that isn’t safe. Because…because then I’ll be in the dark again. Last night was bad. Bad like the times with Ra’s. Bad like Joker. Bad like the night Jason died. Can’t rank one as worse than the others. They’re all bad in different ways. Last night was bad.

My head hurts. Goopy. It feels goopy. No more bugs. They all crawled away. They don’t like the dark either. Because dark is scary. I feel like I got run over by a lot of trucks. One truck, two truck, three truck, four. Then a ton more. I’m hugging my flashlight. My book is being hugged too. My backpack is behind me. It’s scary here. I don’t like it. I want Jason. He’s coming soon. Dick left me here. But Jason’s coming. I don’t feel very good. I think I might be sick. Maybe. The light is coming from the clouds. From the sky.

I think I know where I am. Sorta. I’ve been here. Too hard to sort out. I let my eyes shut. Now they’re open. Now it’s lighter. It was morning before. Now it’s bright. Noon maybe. That sort of time. I feel sticky. Gross. Covered in sweat. My head hurts. Pounding type of hurt. I’m so thirsty. I want water. I turn to look at my backpack. I can see it a bit. Not for long. I shut my eyes. Dizzy. Moving from my side to my back made me dizzy. Hurts. It hurts. My neck hurts. My whole body hurts. I want water. I can’t move to get it though. Too heavy. Made of sand. I think I might have turned into a block of ice. That isn’t a good feeling.
“Dad.” He’s coming soon. He’s got to come soon. “dad.” He said he would come when I’m all alone and cold. He said that. I think. I remember him saying that. But I remembered Steph saying she’d be there if I needed her. And she isn’t. She didn’t want to be. “Dad.” My voice is very quiet. I don’t mean for it to be. But there’s no real noise coming out of it. Out of my voice. Out of my mouth. It’s hard to be loud when you’re thirsty. I want water. Really bad. My head hurts. But there’s no water. Not that I can reach. “dad.” It doesn’t sound like a word. It barely counts as a sound. 

I don’t feel good. I’m so cold. I don’t think I could move if I tried to. I don’t want to try. It’s comfortable to stay real small. I can be a block of ice until Dad gets here. Until Jason gets here. I wince. I’m supposed to call him Jason. Because…I don’t remember the because. I remember mad. I remember angry. I remember a line of bottles. I remember looking for Steph. I remember being a statue. Then Dick. Dick lied, I never got a hug. He said I would and he lied. It wasn’t a nice lie. A very mean lie. I want a hug. Those are comfortable and safe. 

Hug. Blanket. Water. I like those. 

I drag my eyes open. Didn’t realize they were closed. There’s a new noise. Two of them. It’s very dark. I don’t like dark. It isn’t all the way dark. The sun is setting, I think. My eyes feel gross. Gritty. My whole body feels gross. My mouth is dry and it hurts. I can feel the gross stuff under my nails. On my skin. It doesn’t feel good. I don’t feel good. I move my fingers. They twitch a bit. That’s good. I’m so cold. Like a popsicle. I, I don’t want to be a popsicle. 

“You left her here .” The clouds have cleared a bit. That’s nice. I can see the sky. Pretty.

“It was lying about Tim. They refused to listen to anything I said. I’m sure she’s fine, one night here isn’t going to kill it.” The sky looks pretty. Pretty sky. It hurts to keep my eyes open. I let them close. That feels better. “See, they’re where I left them.” Someone’s walking closer. “They’re fine Jason, you don’t need to panic.” Someone’s hand is on my shoulder. I don’t like that. I want it to go away. It hurts. The pressure aches. 

“Joey.” That’s a nice voice. I know that voice. Not sure why it’s all scared though. “Joey.”
“Check her pulse.” The other voice sounds annoyed. The first one is scared, the second is a bit worried, mostly annoyed. I drag my eyes open. Jason looks scared. I don’t know why.
“home?” The word is too mumbled. It doesn’t make any sense. My mouth is too dry and it’s too hard to get in air for words.
“Hey kid.” His hands are shaking. “You okay?” I want to go back to sleep. We’re going home. That’s good. I’m good now. It’s safe now. “I need you to keep your eyes open.”
“Tired.”
“I know.” I’m sitting up. I didn’t do that. Someone takes my book.
“no.” I want that. Please, please I want my book.
“You shouldn’t have left her here.” Dad is mad. I don’t want Dad to be mad. That’s scary. I don’t want that. I shut my eyes.
“I knew they’d be fine.”
“You still,” Dad snaps, “shouldn’t have done it.” Flashlight’s gone to.
“Broken.” It’s broken. Not useful. Useless. I’m useless. I know that. And I’m garbage. Unpredictable. A liar. Untrustworthy. Revolting. Violent. Pathetic. Joey. I don’t want to be broken and garbage. I want to be fixed. Like a flashlight. I want to be useful. Helpful. Predictable. Trustworthy. Good. I want to be good. Eve. I want that.
Hugs are good. Dad gives good hugs.
“Joey, are you listening?” Dad’s talking. He’s pulled away, the hug’s gone. I want to lean forward, to try and to get to him. I don’t. I just think. I just think don’t go, not again, please not again. Please.
“She’s exaggerating.” Dad ignores Dick.
“What happened to her arm.” It hurts when Dad touches it. I pull it back. My arm. My slime arm. It’s mine, no more hurting it. No one else can hurt it, that isn’t nice. Dick doesn’t answer. I drag my eyes open. It hurts. Dad’s here, and Dick.
“Dick left.” That’s true, I know that for sure. “Can we go?” I don’t think the words make much sense. Dad is kneeling on the ground by me, he has my backpack. He’s staring at Dick. Dick isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at me. It’s a scary face. I reach for Dad. “Sorry.” I’m sorry for whatever I did that was so bad, I am.

“We’ll talk about what you did later,” Dad answers. He looks back at me. Not at Dick anymore. “What happened to your arm?” He is trying to sound okay. He isn’t doing a super good job.
“Slime. And bugs.” He shuts his eyes and exhales slowly.
“okay.” I don’t know what I did wrong, I don’t know why he’s mad and annoying, I don’t know what I did.
“Sorry.” I’m sorry. That’s what I am, I’m sorry. 

“Stop saying that.” Dad snapped at me. I shut my eyes. I am trying not to cry.

I’m cold. And Dad is here. And that’s supposed to make it better. I’m supposed to be warm now, and get hugs, and get water. I’m supposed to be away from here. I’m supposed to go home. That’s what Dick said. I think. I’m crying. I know that’s going to make Dad annoyed but I don’t know how to fix it. I’m just tired. And everything hurts so much. I just want the hurt to be done.
“Stop crying Joey.” Dad sounds desperate. Tired. Desperate. Panicked. “Just-just stop. For two minutes, just stop .” I can’t stop crying. I want Steph. I want Dad. I want Tim. None of them want me. Tim is dead because of me. “Joey, stop it.” Dad is standing up. No, no I’m sorry. Don’t go. Please don’t go. He’s rubbing his left temple, his eyes are shut. No, don’t go.
“Sorry. Sorry Dad. I’m sorry.” I’m shaking. Terrified. I’m crying, still crying. “Please, I’m sorry.”
“ Shut. Up. ” I bite my tongue hard. I shut my eyes. Eyes shut. Nothing but dark. I want to be in the dark. Nothing else. Just dark. Just dark. “I didn’t mean…” Dad makes a noise. It’s kind of like a sigh. Sort of. It’s more tired. More annoyed. When Dad touches my shoulder I pull away. I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want anything but the dark. Just dark.

No yelling in the dark. No hurt in the dark. No abandoning me in the dark. No Dick in the dark. No Dad. No Dad, good or bad. No Steph in the dark. No death in the dark. No more hurt in the dark. No more cold. No more slime. No more bruises. No more bugs. No more wind. Nothing. I just want nothing. I’m going to hide in the nothing. Safer. It’s safer.

“If she actually wanted to go home they’d say it.” That’s Dicks voice. “They’re just trying to make you feel bad so it doesn’t get in trouble.” Dad doesn’t answer. “She won’t listen to you about anything. Or me. Or Steph. It doesn’t matter what you do, if it won’t bother to try there’s no point.”
“You left her at Arkham .” Oh. That’s where I am. No panicking in the dark. Just nothingness. Which is good. Cause if I wasn’t in the dark I would panic a lot.

“They needed a wake up call.” Dick doesn’t sound like he cares very much. “They still won’t call you Jason. They won’t even call you your name.” Dad doesn’t say anything. I’m still crying. I can feel it. On my face. I’m so thirsty. “Just ask her. Ask it if they want to go home.” I want to go home. I really, really, want to go home. “Hey Joey, do you want to stay here or go home with Jason?”
“They’re not paying attention.”
“She’s ignoring you to get what she wants,” Dick corrects. I don’t think he’s correct. I’m in the dark. Dark doesn’t talk. That wouldn’t make much sense. “Just ask her. It isn’t going to come.”
“Do you want to go home?” I nod a bit. I try to. It doesn’t really work. “Just say answer kid.” I can’t talk. That’s too hard. I’m dark. Dark can’t talk. Dark can’t open its eyes either. I reach for Dad. I move my sand hand and hold onto his arm. I squeeze it a bit. Gentle. Please . “Just say yes Joey.” Not Joey. I don’t think. I don’t know.
“I told you.” Dads arm goes away. Dad. Where’s Dad. “So?”
“So what.” Dad is mad. I pull back, I press the back of my head harder against the wall. No. No, please no.
“So are they going back with me or you?” Dick sounds happy in a weird way. Dad doesn’t answer. “Or are you leaving them here?”
“It’s one word. Just say the word.” Dad’s mad. I don’t, I can’t, I can’t. The anger is bad. It’s bad. It’s so bad. “If you don’t answer I’m leaving you here.”

I feel like he dumped a bucket of cold water on my head. I can’t think. Move. Process. Dad is going to leave me here. Dick left me here. Dad found me. Dad will leave me here. Dad is scoffing. Standing up. Walking away. Dad is going to leave me here. Dick left me here. Dad found me. Dad will leave me here.
“We’re coming back tomorrow.”
“No problem little wing.” Dick is walking by me. He dumps something on the ground at my side. Dad is already walking away. I can’t hear his footsteps anymore. Just me and Dick. Maybe Dad wasn’t here at all. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe he never came. If he never came then he never left. “You’re not getting anymore of my brothers killed.” Dark doesn’t hurt. Dark doesn’t cry. He is gone. Dad is gone. Dick left me here. Dad found me. Dad left me here. And it’s my fault. I should’ve said yes.

I should’ve said yes.

The sun is going down. I’m watching the light fade away. Fade away like breath in the cold air. Fade away like the ocean pulling back into the depths. Fade away like washable markers that actually wash away. It’s been days. More than one day. Days is plural. Dogs is plural. Hats is plural. Books are plural. Lots of words are plural. Dad isn’t back. He’s not plural, there’s not even one of them here. No one is back. No one is coming, I don’t think. The sun is going down. Down. Dripping down, like water off a waterfall. Dripping down, like a leaky faucet. Dripping down like honey out of a hive.

The stone is made of ice cream. This building is a freezer. I don’t want to be inside a freezer. It hurts. I don’t bother moving. The side of my head is resting against the wall. I look at my book. The first one. I only have the first one. I don’t think I’ll ever get to hear what happens, at the end. I won’t know how the series ends. I don’t know what it’s called when there’s three books in a series. I have no one to ask. 

It’s cold, but I haven’t opened my backpack. Just the one Dick left. It had stuff. A hoodie, one of my old ones. Some snacks. Bars, a jar of peanut butter. Sunscreen. Basic first aid stuff. I have one of those charger things for a phone. I don’t have a phone though. A lighter. I have a lot of things in that backpack. I have my book. I’ve read it a lot of times. The flashlight works. Don’t know why it didn’t before. There are batteries in the backpack. A lot of them.

I’m not going home. Ever, maybe. Dick knew it. Dick left me here. He knew, even if Jason didn’t, that I don’t get to go home. He knew I’m Joey. Not Eve. Just Joey. I don’t want to be Joey. I don’t know how to fix being Joey. I don’t remember exactly what Dick said. About the ways I’m a Joey. I remember some of it. Joeys hurt other people. I’m not hurting anyone else out here. 

I’m at Arkham. Again. 

I’m wearing the hoodie that was in the backpack from Dick. That Dick brought. It doesn’t feel like it’s from Dick. I don’t have anything else. I think you’re supposed to have more when it’s this cold. I have water. That’s good. I want to look in my backpack. I want to see if there’s anything warm. I want to see if my backup plan is real. If there’s something there. If it’s been worth it to keep hoping. I leave the backpack alone and hold my book closer. 

Chapter Five The Robot Gravesite. Those otters were now hiding behind a rock. Their round heads nervously poked up, and they watched as a sparkling monster emerged from the crate.

Roz has just arrived at the island. She doesn’t know who she is yet. 

The monster slowly turned her head as she scanned the coastline. Her head turned and turned, all the way around, and it didn’t stop turning until she was looking right at the otters.

Roz isn’t a monster. She isn’t. 

“Hello otters, my name is Roz.”

The robot’s voice was simply too much for the skittish creatures. The biggest otter squeaked, and the whole gang suddenly took off. They galloped back across the robot gravesit, flopped into the ocean, and raced through the waves just as fast as they could. 

Roz is all the way alone on her island. The things that were there rejected her. They left her alone. I shut the book. I stare forward. The sun is setting. Dripping down inside the freezer. It’s going to melt everything. I don’t want to melt. I don’t think it matters if I do. No one will notice. No one is going to come.

I could leave. I’ve thought that before. I have not done it. I can not turn the doorknob. I can not test the waters. Jason has either forgotten me or he is dead. If he is dead no one is ever going to come. Dick will not come. He will not tell anyone I am here. Arkham will be my tomb. Again. Third time. Third time’s the charm. This is not charming. This is not a charmed existence. I think that is a phrase. I do not remember. There is no one to ask.

I could leave. I would not go back. To Dick. To Dad. To Steph. I could just go. I can go, or I can wait here. In Arkham. I can wait for Dad-for Jason. I can wait for Jason. He doesn’t want to be my dad, not anymore. So maybe I don’t have to stay. If he isn’t my dad then he doesn’t get to be in charge of me. It’s a bad thought. I know it’s a bad thought. I won’t do it. I know that too. It’s a pretend idea. Not a real option. I can never leave. It doesn’t matter if I leave Arkham because it’s stuck in me. I am Joey. If Jason doesn’t want me I’m a Joey. I can leave physically but I’ll still be here until I can prove to Jason I’m Eve. 

I don’t know how to do that when he won’t come. When he might be dead. He doesn’t want me to save him, if he dies. I know that. He said that. A lot. Whenever we got back, from the whole thing with…when we got back from that he told me not to save him next time. If there was a next time. He was angry when he said it but he meant it, we both know that. I don’t think Jason is going to come. But I’ll wait…I have to wait. I can’t leave. I don’t want him to worry.

He was worried. I think he thought I was dead. I’m surprised I wasn’t dead. I was sick, which is bad. Really bad. I don’t feel good, I feel gross and icky and heavy, but my brain isn’t melting like it was before. Jason was scared I was dead. He thought I was, for a minute. He cared enough to care if I was dead. I cared when he died. He cares when I die. That’s enough. That has to be enough.

He’ll be back.

Eventually.

Chapter Text

“I’m just saying that it’ll be easy to trick kids into following us.” We’re sitting in a tree by an elementary school debating the ethics of my current plan involving children, offerings, and ancient gods. One specific god. Deity. Whatever Tim is.
“I don’t think kids are gonna follow you cactus.” I don’t appreciate Eevee’s lack of confidence.
“Why would children follow you?”
“Because I can be very convincing,” I reassure Bob. “Also kids are kind of bad at basic safety precautions.” 

“You are not allowed to follow random people. Either of you.” Tim is lame. “I need confirmation that you will not follow random people bug.”
“I’m not that stupid. I’ve neven even been kidnapped.”
“That is not a believable statement.”
“I am not legally required to answer any of your questions.”
“The laws of mortals do not apply to me.”
“Dork. I think we should follow my plan.”
“Cause Dads a battery?” Eevee’s sitting on my left-no my right. Tim is on her right. 

“Yep. We get them to give Tim offerings so he can recharge and we can kidnap Joey.” 

“Yay kidnapping!” I wince.
“Maybe don’t yell that so loud duckie.”
“But that’s what we’re doing.” Eevee looks at Tim. “Then you’ll have kidnapped three people, Bob.”
“I do not think you and Eve count.”
“We definitely do. Duckie didn’t have a legal guardian but it was still kidnapping when you took her.”
“You came willingly, bug.”
“Even if kids agree to being kidnapped it’s still kidnapping. Kids can’t give consent for that stuff.”
“So you admit you’re a child.”
“What? No, that isn’t what I meant.” I miss spring where trees had leaves, those were nice for hiding it. “If someone agrees to get eaten then it’s still cannibalism.”
“People eat other people?”
“Uh…no.” I shouldn’t have said that in front of Eevee. Or Tim, they look concerned. “That’s a hypothetical scenario, not a real thing that happens.” Tim and Eevee don’t look convinced. This is not a conversation I want to have. “We’re here to trick children into giving Bob offerings, not talk about hypothetical weird stuff. Fictional weird stuff that has never happened and will never happen.”
“So we can kidnap Joey,” Eevee says seriously, looking at the school. It’ll let out in a few minutes and kids will walk home. This school doesn’t do carpools, just has kids that walk or go on the bus.
“Exactly.”
“How do you plan to convince them to go, bug?”
“I’ll say ‘want ten bucks’ and it’ll work.”
“I do not think that will work.”
“What did you say to get me to come?”
“I said that you were cold and hungry-”
“You said ‘want to not freeze to death and also I’ll give you food’ so I went. Kids' standards are low.” Tim doesn’t seem impressed. I sigh. “Do you have a better plan for getting offerings?” We need to get Joey soon. As soon as possible, soon. I keep having dreams about them. I can’t figure out what’s wrong but it’s way more terrified than normal. Which is pretty impressive considering their baseline levels of terror and exhaustion.
“I do not have a better plan. But I believe this one will backfire.”
“Worst case, you smite them to get them to leave me alone.”
“That is not how this works. And I will not attack children.”
“I’ll throw the small duckie at them then,” I joke, poking her shoulder gently, “she’ll stab them.”
“Don’t throw me, I’m not a frisbee.” I hum and tap my chin, thinking seriously.
“What do ya think Bob, is she a frisbee or not?”
“I believe she is a frisbee.”
“I am not, I’m a crow child.”
“You can be both,” Tim assures her. The bell rings. I wince and reach out to steady Eevee. She startled back. “What was that?”
“It’s how they tell kids the school day is over,” I clarify. “They do it a lot.”
“That seems…loud.”
“Yeah it isn’t fun,” I agree. “If I convince 10 or more kids to go give you offerings in exchange for good grades can I pick what we eat for dinner?”
“Yes.” Awesome. A kid walks under our tree really fast. 

“Want ten dollars?” They pause and look up.

“Why are you in a tree?”
“Because they’re comfortable.”
“My mom says not to climb trees.”
“Why?”
“Because it could mess up my clothes.” 

“Well, is she here?” The kid smiles.
“No.” I hop down.
“Want to climb a tree?”

“...okay.”
“This tree isn’t very good for climbing. I know a better one.”
“I want to climb a tree!” Now I’ve got two of them.
“Anyone else want to come climb a tree?” About fourteen kids surround me. I didn’t even have to pay them. Kids are so easy to kidnap. “We’re off to the best climbing tree in Gotham, also I’m totally right and Tim is always wrong.”
“Who’s Tim?” The first kid asks, walking right next to me. Tim is at the back, watching all of the kids, and Eevee is already making friends. 

“They’re a dork.”
“And they’re always wrong?”
“Exactly.” The shrine is only two minutes away, this school is super convenient. The kids all stay together until we get there. Tim is holding most of their backpacks by the time we get to the top of the hill at their shrike. “Alright, before we climb the tree, have you guys ever heard of a wishing well?” A few hands pop into the air. “Who wants to explain it?”
“I DO!” I gesture for the kid to come forward. They do so via cartwheels. A fantastic way to move around, if you ask me. The beads on their braids clink against each other in a cool sounding way as she hops up next to me.
“What’s your name?”
“Lacey.”
“Well Lacey go ahead.”
“Wishing wells are the thing you throw money and stuff into. You give it money, it gives you a wish.”
“You can get wishes for money?” Random Kid #2 asks. “I just used it to buy candy.”
“You can use money to buy wishes or you can leave cool stuff on this shrine and boom good grades.” The kids stare at me.
“It doesn’t even cost money,” Lacey asks in a hushed whisper.
“Nope! Just put something cool on it. The more cool stuff you put the better.”
“And it doesn’t have ta be money?” Random Kid #2, coming in with another question.
“Nope, just something special. Like shiny stuff. You can add as much as you want.” Please add as much as you want.
“After we’re done with our wishes can we climb a tree?”
“After you make some wishes I’ll teach you to be tree climbing experts.” Eevee tells them where to put stuff and Tim listens as children intensely tell him about their day, the color green, or whatever else they feel like talking about. He’s had a lot of practice with Eevee.
“Skunk person?” I look down.
“Did you call me skunk?”
“Cause your hair.” I think the gray looks cool. I guess skunks are cool.
“What’s up apple pie?” The kids face scrunches up.
“My name’s Oizys. Not apple pie.”
“Your hair is red, like apples.”
“Huh.”
“Want me to call you Oizys instead?”

“No, apple pie is okay.”
“Well apple pie what’s up?” They look nervous.

“Do we still get to climb trees if we don’t have anything?”
“Course kid.” I smile. I try to look genuine, I do mean it, I just…we just need to get Joey here. “Everyone gets to climb trees, even if they don’t make a wish.”
“Would…would a drawing be a wish?”
“It would be a wonderful wish.”
“Even if it isn’t very good?”
“How about you show me the drawing you’re thinking about making a wish with and I’ll tell you if it’s good or not.” Oizys puts their backpack down and roots around through it. He hands it to me nervously. 

It’s on a small piece of lined paper. It is coated in scribbles that somewhat resemble people. There’s five of them. They’re in front of a wide blob of blue. The ground beneath and to the sides of them is yellow. A beach. The colors don’t match. The lines are irregular and don’t work quite right. The spaces aren’t filled in entirely. There are large gaps between spaces color is meant to fill. The paper itself is stained and torn. There are a few holes in it. There’s no sign of shadows or highlights. The kid wrote their name at the bottom writing. Their handwriting is messy.
“It’s wonderful Oizys.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.” I kneel down so I’m not standing over the kid. “Want to know a secret?”
“Okay.”
“Art can’t be bad.”
“I don’t think it counts as art.” 

“Did you make it?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s art.”
“Are you sure?” Oizys doesn’t sound like they believe me.
“I am. Art is when you make something. A painting, a drawing, a sculpture, a story, a building-”
“A building?”
“Yep. Have you ever seen a really cool library? Or a building that looks like something?”
“I saw a building that looks like a fish.”
“That’s art.
“Because a person made it?”
“Yep. You’re a person right?”
“What else would I be?”
“Well I’ve met a few slime monsters and living statues. Always good to double check.” I wink at Oizys who smiles a bit. “I know your art is good because you made it. Art can’t be bad. Art can be exceptional, like the sort of thing you’d see in a museum or given to someone you love. But it can’t be bad.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am. Which is how I know you’re good at art. And it’s how I know this,” I tap the paper gently, “is a wonderful thing to trade for a wish.” 

“What if the wish person doesn’t think so?”
“Wish person?” I didn’t specify a wish person. Oizys points at the statue of Rook. Oh right. I probably should’ve remembered that’s a smidge suspicious. The statue of a person does hint that a person is involved. Or a god. “I think you should ask Tim over there if they think it’s a good gift.”
“Why Tim?”

“Because Tim has been coming to this place longer than anyone else. They know what the wish person likes. I promise they’ll like it. They have good taste.”
“Thanks, skunk.”
“Of course apple pie.” I hand them their paper back and they go talk to Tim. I stand up, cracking my neck and leaning back against one of the trees. We really need to get a bench up here. I watch Tim nod at them and hold their hand as he walks them to the shrine. Eevee tells Oizys where to put the drawing. It’s sweet.
“Can we go climb a tree now?” Lacey’s back.
“As soon as everyone else is done.”
“Can’t we climb one of these trees?”
“Nope, we’re going to a special tree. It even has a name.”
“All trees have names.”
“What names do they have?”
“They aren’t names we can say, we don’t have the right words. But you can hear them if you listen. It’s too loud right now.”
“Cause of all the kids?”
“Yes.”
“How do you listen for the names of trees?” Lacey looks at me, dead serious.
“You sit, or stand if you want to. I like sittin’. You do whatever and listen. Listen with everything you can. You can hear it in the branches. The names are different when they have flowers and leaves.”
“How many names does each tree have?”
“Some only have a few. Some have hundreds.”
“That must be hard to remember.” Lacey shrugs.
“It is important to remember names.”
“Yeah, I agree. Names are pretty important. Do all plants have names or just trees?”
“Trees and mushrooms. You can say mushroom names but you shouldn’t.”
“Good to know.”
“What’s your name?”
“Ya can call me skunk.”
“...skunk.”
“I’m embracing it.”
“Is that why your hair is all weird?”
“It’s all cool, not all weird.”
“Are you old? I thought only old people have gray hair.”
“It depends on who you ask.” I’m not sure how old I am. I didn’t exactly have a calender. Not that a calender would’ve been much use to me. I probably would’ve burned it up awhile ago, if I had one back then. I made a lot of fires. Most Gothams are cold.
“Are you a witch?” I wait for her to elaborate. “Witches have gray hair. And spooky black clothes.” I guess I fall into that category.
“If I was a witch it would have to be a secret.” Lacey’s eyes get wide.
“If you were I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“I can’t answer, witches code-I mean, normal people code.” I wink. Lacey beams. She runs over to her friend points at me while talking loudly. Kids are really easy to please. 

“Cactus?” I pick up Eevee, holding her on my hip.
“What’s up buttercup?”
“Can we go climb a tree now?”
“Everyone ready to go to the tree?”
“TREE!”
“I’ll take that as a yes!” Tim carries everyones backpacks and we head down to the Tim tree. “Eevee, want to show them how to climb a tree?” I put her down so she can importantly instruct the kids. I go stand by Tim. “I want to eat cake for dinner.”
“That is not dinner. That is dessert.”
“Than I want poptarts.”
“Poptarts are snacks and breakfast. Not dinner.”
“It’s breakfast somewhere.”
“You can eat poptarts-”
“Yes.”
“If you eat a fruit.”
“Lame. But acceptable.” Eevee is helping the kids climb on the lowest branches of the tree. “I got a ton of them to come.”
“Yes. You did a good job bug.”
“Told ya it would work.”
“I am glad it did.” 

“There are way more of you this time.”
“We took a test today and everybody who made a wish got 100% on it. That’s all of the percents ,” Lacey tells me importantly. “You said it was okay to tell people.”
“I’m glad ya did.” There’s at least fifty kids. “Yall ready to go?”
“YEAH!” It doesn’t take long to get to the shrine but a kid manages to convince Tim to let her ride on his shoulders before we get there. She seems content to stay up there, telling Tim what to do and what to hand to Eevee as an offering. Tim balances her and a frankly ridiculous amount of backpacks quite well. The kids crowd around Eevee. She’s in her element, telling them all what to do. The shrine is quickly filling up with offerings. Good. 

I want to go by Tim and ask how much longer they think this is going to take. I want to ask how much longer Joey has to wait. I want to ask how many more nightmares I have to have about it. I want to ask, over and over, how much longer. Like an annoying kid on a road trip. I watch a kid place a potted plant on the shrine. Are we there yet? Next comes a drawing. Are we there yet? A sculpture of a flower, I think. Are we there yet? A stuffed bear. Are we there yet? A drawing of a skunk. Are we there yet?

We have to get there. We have to get Joey back. We just have to.

“What’s in the backpack?”
“Nothing.” Wow, for a deity Tim is real bad at lying. I watch him, stretching my hands out in front of me, as I wait for them to talk. Tim brought a picnic blanket this time, a big one, for people to sit at while they wait for everyone to get done putting the offerings on the shrine. It’s more comfortable than the ground but it’s still worse than a bench. “Some of the kids said they were hungry. Yesterday.”
“Did you bring them snacks?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re a very Bobby Bob.”
“Is that a good or bad thing?”
“It’s a good thing.”
“Thank you. You are a very buggy bug.”
“I’m not doing anything buggy at the moment.”
“I do not understand.”
“I called you a Bobby Bob because you were doing something you do a lot. Specifically you were going out of your way to be nice to kids.”
“You were offering a strange compliment. That is a very buggy thing to do.”
“I guess that makes sense. Ya got anything else in the backpack?”
“Eevee put coloring pages. And markers. And crayons.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t bring water.”
“I could not fit that many water bottles.” I wonder how long they spent trying to fit 50 plus water bottles into one backpack. “You need to drink water.”
“I already drank three glasses of it cause you’re all water obsessed.”
“You need it. So you do not die.”
“I mean, yeah, but it’s still a ridiculous amount of water.”
“Tim, I'm hungry.”
“Hey Lacey.” I bop her nose and she rolls her eyes comfortably.
“Hi skunk. Do you have any food?”
“Are you allergic to anything?” Tim asks seriously.
“No, nothing.” Tim opens the backpack and Lacey grabs a bar. She taps his arm three times then hugs him. She leaves but a ton of other kids come over because they want food too. I stand up. I want to see how much longer it’s going to take to get everything set up, the kids should really be heading home.
“Hey duckie.”
“Hi cactus!”
“Their name is skunk not cactus,” Oizys corrects importantly.
“They’re my sibling, I know its name better than you do.”
“Cactus and skunk are nicknames,” I clarify, sitting between the two, “so they’re both right. What did you add today apple pie?”
“That drawing. And that note. And those rocks I found.”
“Those look great.” Oizys beams.
“Cactus, look at what I put.”
“Did you put gummy worms?”
“Yep!”
“What a surprise,” I joke, taking her braid and flipping it so it falls over her face. She pushes it away. “You did good to silly child.”
“Who did best?”
“Oizys, you put the best drawings. Eevee, ya put the best snacks. Want to help me put my stuff?”
“I left you a spot.”
“Thanks duckie. You want to put it?”
“No, you can.” I put my current array of items on the shrine. More chess pieces. Some of them are made of paper mache. Others are made of clay. There’s a lot of them at this point. There’s some little statues of clay meant to look like Uno cards too. I leave some drawings on the shrine. Most of them are of Eevee and Tim. They aren’t great. My hands are still shaky. It isn’t as bad as it used to be. It’s getting better.

They still aren’t great. 

I arrange the leafs me and Eevee painted. The notebook I filled up with stories. They’re entirely illegible. But they exist. That’s all I have, right now. I shut my eyes. I think about Joey. Joey with us. Joey not there. Joey with Tim who is going to be so weird and probably freak her out but at least he’ll care. Joey with Eevee who will love it, because she’s Eevee and that’s what she does. Joey with me. Maybe. If they don’t hate me. I really hope they don’t hate me. I don’t think she will. It doesn’t matter if they do. As long as they’re here. They just need to be here. 

“You always do that.” I open my eyes and look at Eevee.
“Do what little duck?”
“You close your eyes and think real hard.” I shrug.
“Yeah. I do.”

“Are you ready to go?” I catch the tennis ball and look at Tim.
“The kids have the day off of school.” Tim’s expression doesn’t change. He has my coat and gloves on one arm and Eevee’s on the other. I can see the straps for the backpack of snacks and stuff on their shoulders. “They won’t meet us at the tree if they don’t go to school.”
“What if they go to school anyway?”
“They would’ve left already, they wouldn’t have been able to get in.” I throw a ball into the air again. I catch it. Throw it. Catch it. “Remember, I told you the school would be closed tomorrow. Cause it’s a holiday or whatever.”
“I thought they would still go.”
“Sorry, I shoulda clarified.” Throw, catch. Throw, catch, throw. Tim is still standing there. “You could hang out with Eevee?” Catch.
“Eevee is asleep.”

“Don’t baby crows exist? You could babysit them or something.” Throw it. Catch it. Tennis balls are really easy to catch.
“That is not how that works.”
“You could do deity stuff to make it work that way.” Tim looks deeply bummed. “The kids will be back from school tomorrow.” 

“Yes. That is true.” Throw it. Catch it.
“You could go kidnap another child.” Tim’s face shifts. “I was kidding.” One of these days Tim is going to kidnap the wrong kid. “You don’t need anymore children. Or patrons. Priests. Etcetera.” Throw it. Catch it.

“I will not take any additional children. Except Joey.”
“Are we getting close?” I’ve been trying not to ask. It gets annoying, after a while. The constant asking. I know they’ll tell me when they can. I know he’ll bring Joey here when he can. But I don’t know how to not ask. I’ve never been good at keeping my mouth shut. Which is how I got into this whole mess to begin with.
“Yes. We are.” Throw the ball. Catch it. The ground is comfortable, but only because of the coating of blankets piled up. “Why are you throwing that?”
“Because I’m bored.”
“Oh.” Throw it. Catch it. Throw it. Catch- ow . It fell on my face. “Are you okay?” Tim sounds all worried.
“I’m fine.” It hit my forehead, which is better than my nose. I don’t want to redo the nosebleed ordeal. I sit up from my spot on the ground and rub my forehead. Bob looks particularly bummed and sad. I sigh. “Want to play chess?” He brightens. Dork. “You go put away all that stuff, I’ll get the chess board.” Tim quickly disappears. I should probably tell him how weekends work, and that we won’t see the kids then either. I should tell Eevee to.

Does Eevee do school? She’s little, I don’t think it really matters. She just does what she does. I don’t want to do school. It’s not going to matter. I’ve already missed too much of it. I stand up, cracking my fingers and neck as I walk. I feel stiff. Weird. Uncomfortable. I grab the chessboard and sit down inside the blanket fort. Tim will find me, they always do. I get the pieces out. I hope Joey’s okay. They should be. They’ve survived at Arkham for a long time. She knows how to handle herself. I still don’t like this. 

I wonder how much school it missed. If they are another version of me they must’ve missed a lot when they were little. I’m not sure how similar to me they are. It was older than me, I think, but I can’t imagine my Dad ever doing what her Jason did. I don’t think I could ever mess up that bad and Joey didn’t even do anything wrong. If she did do something wrong they couldn’t remember what. It doesn’t matter, whatever what it did, they didn’t deserve that.

I remember she was sad about something. Something specific. They were sad about a lot of things but it was that specific thing that hurt the worst. It was a book. Her favorite, I think. Joey claimed it had lost it. I think someone took it. Probably Jason. Maybe Dick. Those were the only people she ever remembered coming to Arkham. I wish they had told me the title. I could’ve gotten it. If it exists here. If it doesn’t me and Bob will find some way to get one. 

“You need to drink water.”
“I already drank water.”
“You need to drink more water.” I accept the glass of water from Tim. And the plate of poptarts. And the blanket. “Do you want to start?”
“Yeah, but when I win you can’t claim it was because I went first.” I haven’t won yet. Or even gotten close. I don’t think I’m ever going to. That isn’t really the point. I move a pawn. Tim moves a pawn. I move a horse. Tim moves another pawn. I move my bishop. “Another pawn?”
“Yes.” Boring. I move my bishop farther up the board. He moves another pawn. I move my own pawn, but just so I can use my castle. “I moved a bishop.”
“I appreciate variety while I get my ass beat in chess.” I move my rook forward. “Tim no.”
“It is most efficient to move pawns.”
“It’s boring is what it is.”
“You just moved a pawn.”
“Well that was cause I needed to.” Tim moves his queen. Nice. I move another pawn. He moves his queen again. I take a pawn. He takes one in return. I take a bishop. He uses his queen to take a pawn. I take another pawn. He moves his queen right by my king, taking a bishop. I take his queen. “You’re going easy on me.”
“Yes. I am.”
“Rude.”
“Would you prefer I didn’t?”
“I’m going to lose either way,” I joke. “But don’t go that easy.”
“I could take my queen back.”
“No way, she’s mine now.” I balance the piece on the top of my head. “You’re not getting her back.”
“Until the next round?”
“Until the next round.” We keep playing. I check him once and he gets away easily. “All your stuff is grouped together, I can’t attack anything.”
“Yes. That is the point.”
“Well it’s rather rude.” Tim beats me. Badly. But it was fun. “Again?”
“Again.”

The shrine has never been fuller. It’s absolutely coated in everything from handmade bracelets to cans of soda. The kids came up with weird stuff. But they meant all of it. I think that’s what matters most. I hope it’s what matters most. We already took them here today. They’re all home, sleeping probably. I hope they are. They should be asleep. 

We’re almost there. That’s what Tim said. Eevee is setting gummy worms on the shrine. I have my backpack. I don’t carry it around constantly anymore. I…I don’t need to. But I need something out of it. I didn’t want to just carry it here. I don’t want to touch it any longer than I have to. I take out the yellow scrunchie, the one splattered with blood, and set it on the shrine. Right next to the flashlight. I want to think something poetic. Special. Interesting. Something I can look back on and think ‘yes, I got the words right, I got the moment right’. All I can think is please. Please let her be alive. Please let things be okay. 

Please. 

Tim’s hand is on my shoulder. I turn around to look at him. They nod yes. My grip tightens around the straps of the backpack. We can get Joey (if they aren't already dead). 

Chapter Text

I was bored. I’m used to being bored, how the boredom makes everything sink together. Murky, like things falling to the bottom of a pool. You can’t see them quite right, but you know they’re there. If I dipped down below the water and reached out I could count the memories. That yellow blob would be when I tried to explore Arkham. The first time. Those are rocks speckled all over the floor of the pool. I have to come up for air when I look at those. I can’t watch them for long. That’s why I keep going out again. I always forget. 

There are other shapes at the bottom of the water. Pieces of glass. The light reflects off those, making little rainbows. They’re hard to see through the thick heaviness of the nothingness. When I think about them, when I reach for them, they all look and feel the same. Except for the injuries I’m left with. Sometimes the memories are tainted with deep pain. Sometimes it just stings. Sometimes, sometimes there is nothing at all. The pieces of glass are memories of Dick at Arkham. The pain from those memories reflects through the water. It makes my head hurt.

There are countless shapes and figures and things in the pool. Some parts of the water are thinner than others. Those are where facts are stored. Things I’m sure of. I don’t have many of those left. I used to think Steph loving me was a fact. I was wrong. I used to think that Jason wanting me was a fact. I was wrong. I used to think that Tim surviving was a fact. I was wrong. I know some things are facts. They aren’t fun facts. I’m not supposed to ignore things just because they hurt. I know that. But I don’t want to stare at them too long either. 

I was bored. I was at Arkham. Uncomfortable as damp socks Arkham. Bad texture Arkham. Clock ticking Arkham. Now I’m not. 

Now I’m here. I don’t know where here is. It isn’t Arkham. I’m supposed to stay at Arkham. I’m supposed to wait for Jason. I am not supposed to be in a tree. A tree with fairy lights and birds. There are many birds. I pull my backpack closer. It’s mine. I have something that’s mine. I have to trade it with Dick, later, to get new stuff but right now it is mine. I was supposed to stay at Arkham but I’m not anymore. I’m here. Here with someone new.

The new person is wearing a hoodie. It is a hoodie that has been drawn on. There is writing on it. It was white, before all the words. There are drawings of birds. Worms. I think. They look more like gummy worms. And cacti. Their hair almost reaches their shoulders. His eyes are weird. I don’t think they do what my eyes do. What most eyes do. His nails are painted. Black. He is looking at me. He is not moving. I am not sure he is even breathing. I do not think they know what to do. I don’t either. I want them to stop looking at me. They look familiar. 

The hair. The eyes. Not the way they work, just their shape. The color of them. The way his hair parts. His nose. The scars don’t match. I don’t understand why the scars don’t match. He’s Tim. I know he’s Tim but they don’t look like Tim. I take a step back.
I killed him, that’s a fact. It’s a fact that hurts, hurts more than anything, but it is a fact. It hurts more than Jason leaving me. It hurts more than anything that happened at Arkham. Tim died to help me. Tim is dead and he is not coming back.
“Joey.” I know that voice. I turn to look at her. I shouldn’t take my eyes off Fake Tim. It is a basic safety precaution. Watch threats. Don’t let your guard down. But…but it’s Eve. Eve looks alive. They are not shaking like a jug of soda deciding whether it will fall or not. It is not watching like something in a corner, waiting to move and escape. She is not worried…well they are worried. But less than the last time I saw them. 

“Are you okay?” I don’t understand the question. “I’m sorry it took so long, I didn’t mean-”
“I am fine.”

“I need to go.” She immediately shakes her head.
“No way.”
“I need to be there.” Eve is being stubborn. That is their stubborn face. I haven’t seen it on them before but I recognize it. It matches mine. “I’ve got to. Please .”
“Why were you calling him?” I shut my eyes. I shove that fact as far under the surface of the water as possible. “Joey, you needed him and-”
“Bug.” Tim. That’s Tims voice. Eve huffs.
“I just got to see you. You’ve got to stay for a bit.” I can’t disappear in the dark. I can’t hide in the sound of the phone ringing and ringing. I can’t dissolve into nothing. I drag my eyes open.
“Don’t even know where I am.” Eve winces.
“Oh. Right.” I need to go back. “That’s kind of hard to explain.” 

“Don’t have to explain if you let me go back.”
“We can’t do that.” I have to go back. I have to be there. Otherwise, I am a coward. Otherwise, I can’t follow simple orders. Otherwise, I’m too self-centered to care about anyone else. Otherwise, Dick is right. “Joey, I didn’t mean to freak you out-” I have to go. It’s Arkham. It’s where I’m supposed to be until I’m Eve again, not Joey. Joey is supposed to be at Arkham. Eve, the Eve in front of me, doesn’t deserve that. But I do. The Tim she got killed needed help, I got mine killed over nothing. He died to save me. He might as well have died trying to open a jar of moldy peanut butter. “Joey I’m sorry .” I have to be there when Jason comes. He is going to come, he wouldn’t lie. I’m the liar out of the two of us. I’m the liar. I’m useless. Garbage. Unpredictable. Untrustworthy. Revolting. Violent. Pathetic. 

Too useless to help keep Jason alive. Garbage because I failed at everything . Unpredictable so I’m not trustworthy. Untrustworthy because I’m not predictable. Revolting because I did what I did without regret. Without flinching. Too violent to think about other options. Too pathetic to think. I never think. I just ruin everything . I told Dick I was going to stay, I said so. I can’t lie again. I can’t be a liar. Joey's are liars. I can’t be a Joey. 

Someone’s hand is on my arm. It doesn’t hurt. I don’t understand why it doesn’t hurt.
“Can you hear me?” I know that voice but I wish I didn’t. I’m not supposed to be able to hear it. I think I might be dead. I really don’t want to be dead. Then I won’t get to go home with Jason. He’d probably be annoyed if I died again.
“You’re dead.”
“I am not your Tim.” That doesn’t make sense. “Where do you think you are?” Their voice is weird. The sound is like Tims, like my Tims, but the way the words come out is new. There are new pauses between the words and sounds. I’m not in my world, I don’t think. That wouldn’t make much sense.
“Eve’s here.”
“Yes. It is.”
“You’re not my Tim.”
“I am not.”
“I don’t want to be in another universe.” I can’t go back that way. If I was just teleported to another part I could escape. Or talk my way out. I could get back to Arkham. I can’t get back to my universe by stealing a car or jumping on a train.
“I know.” Tim does know. Their voice is weird. It doesn’t sound like my Tims but the worry sounds similar.

“In Eves?”
“We’re not in mine.” Eve is worried. Anxious. Concerned. Upset. At herself. “We’re in his.” It’s standing a few feet to my side. They were closer before. Before her words got lost in the noise from my head.
“I want to go.” I turn my head to look at Tim again. They are kneeling on the ground. Their hand is still on my arm. “I’ve got to go back.” The waiting had to be for something.

“Can I get a hug before ya start trying to ditch me?” Eve is trying to joke. They fail to sound light-hearted. I half nod. Tim backs away. 

Eve is hugging me. I do not know what to do with my arms. Strange. Wrong. Like trying to force a drawer to open with a spatula is stuck in the way. I used to be good at hugs. That’s a fact. I think. I lean forward a bit. I’m unsure what else to do. Eve's hug is warm. They’re warm. Warm like candles. Warm like soft fabric. Warm like cinnamon. Their hoodie is red. Like apples. Like stains. I forgot how hugs feel when they barely hurt. It’s going to hurt no matter what, because of the bruises on my arms and shoulders but it doesn’t intentionally hurt. Eve isn’t trying to hurt me.

It’s weird. To be touched without the intention of pain. Without malice.
“I missed you.” I shouldn’t have said it.

“I missed you too.” That was an opening. I shouldn’t have given them an opening. I did miss Eve. I missed them so bad. Like a frog misses water. Like a cake misses flour. Like a painting misses a frame. But I can’t stay. I have to be at Arkham. I can’t get Tim hurt. This Tim. I can’t let Eve get hurt either. And that’s all I do.

“How did I get here?” I can see Eve’s face better now that I’ve pulled away from the hug.
“Long or short answer?”
“Blanket fort.” Tim's words aren’t an order, they’re a suggestion. Eve nods.
“Yeah, that’s the best spot.” I don’t want to sit down. I don’t want to get situated. I don’t want to get used to being here. “Please? You don’t have to stay forever, you’ve just got to listen.”
“okay.” Tim doesn’t follow us to the blanket fort. Eve rolls their eyes and says something about water. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not surprising Tim left. I wouldn’t want to be around me either. The blanket fort has fairy lights inside it. They have a lot of those. There are so many blankets. I’m careful not to touch them much. I sit down by Eve. 

“Are you okay?” That isn’t the priority.

“Yes.” I know Eve is okay. For the most part. They are not good at hiding when they are in pain.
“Want me to start at the beginning?” I nod. “I left your world. I went around for a while after that.” Eve breathes weird when they talk about worlds that were bad. The worlds after mine were bad. “I ended up here. I left a bar and a half at a shrine. That, apparently, is enough to buy you a lifelong membership to the ‘adoption club of patrons’ or whatever we’re calling it.”
“Tim isn’t human.”
“Not that Tim.” Eve rubs their eyes. “I should’ve planned how I’d explain this.”
“How many Tims are there?” Does he survive in every world except mine?
“Two. But one is dead.” Oh. “We call him Tim. Or Bob. Bob is a deity. Which are apparently a thing. Eevee left a pack of gummy worms on his shrine ages ago and they followed her around. They don’t really get how being a stalker is creepy.”

“Eevee?”
“Yeah.”
“...the Pokemon?”
“What? Oh right, you haven’t met Eevee. She’s this world's version of us. Eevee’s Tim died protecting her. Bob got Eevee away but she was real freaked out so he decided that looking like her dead dad was the best way to help her calm down.”
“So…he is not Tim.” That’s what matters.
“No. Not like our Tims.” Another Tim died defending an Eve. Is that a universal constant or did Eevee mess up to? “Eevee’s Tim was her dad. I don’t think she ever even met her Jason.” That does not make sense. Jason is Jason. There’s no Eve, or Joey, without Jason. “I got here, left the stuff on Bobs shrine, I got wrapped up with them too. That make sense so far?”
“Yes.” For the most part. I think. “How are you still here?”
“Bob tethered me to this universe. I don’t fall from one to another anymore.” I reach and hold onto Eve's arm. I squeeze it gently. Good. Glad. I’m glad. I was hoping they’d be okay. I needed it to be okay. Eve’s face flinches in a half smile. “Bob brought you here too.” I pull my hand away.
“I have to go back.” 

“Joey-”
“Jason is going to come.”
“You needed him and he wasn’t there, I saw it.” That doesn’t make any sort of sense. I pull my backpack closer. The phone closer. “I kept seeing you every time I fell asleep. You were always alone. And you were so far from okay.” I am fine. I was fine. I just didn’t like the quiet. “Then it all went wrong. And you kept calling Jason and he wouldn’t come and it was just that, over and over, every single night.” I didn’t know Eve could see me. I would’ve pretended I wasn’t terrified if I knew.
“I didn’t need Jason. I was wrong.”
“You didn’t have a phone before.”
“Dick left it with me. For emergencies.”
“Since when does he care?”
“Jason made him.” I don’t want to talk about why Jason made him. I don’t want to talk about calling until my heartbeat in time with the ringtone. I don’t want to talk about how it felt when Jason blocked the number without picking up even once. “Why did Bob bring me here.”
“Because I had to make sure you were okay.” I try to make myself smile. It feels like trying to rip a paper in a straight line. Slow and achy and, in the end, an utter failure.
“I am fine. So now I can go.”
“Do you have any other questions?” Eve is avoiding what I said. “I mean, I just dumped kind of a lot of information on your head.”
“Why does Bob care?” I should be focused on getting back to Jason. But I want to know.
“I’ve got no idea. He’s weird.” Huh.
“...does he just take Eves?”
“I think it’s any kid. We had to bribe a bunch of children to follow us so we could get you back and he really liked hanging out with them. But they’ve only decided to take in us three.” I have not been ‘taken in’. I am not staying.
“How do I get home? Does Bob send me back?” It didn’t hurt, to leave my universe. It was scary and I didn’t like it but it didn’t hurt.
“We can ask them.” Eve's hands are shaking. “Can’t you stay just for a little bit?” I look down. I…
“What is…Bob…the deity of?” 

“His real name is Rook but they don’t care if we call them Bob. They’re the god of corvids. I think. I’m not really sure.” 

“What does being a patron mean?”
“I’ve got no idea. I think it just means Bob can boss you around.” I think they could do that anyway.
“Does he smite people?”
“No, that's not an actual thing. Well, it might be but Bob is too lame to do it.”
“I do not think refusing to punish strangers is ‘lame’.” Bob is here now. In the blanket fort. They are careful. It is weird. People aren’t careful around me. If I’m in the way I move. If I can’t move I get hurt. I shouldn't have been trapped to begin with. Tim offers me a glass of water. I don’t want it. I also don’t want to make them mad. They have to take me home. I drink some of the water. Water in this universe tastes weird. Bob also hands me a blanket. I don’t want to take it. I do anyway. What I want doesn’t matter, not if it stops me from getting back to Jason.
“I’m surprised it took ya that long to get them to drink water.” Eve looks at me to explain. “Tim is all obsessed with making sure we drink enough water.” Eve moves closer to me as Ti-Bob sits on their opposite side. 

“I do not want you to die.”
“People can go a long time without water.” 

This is an old debate. Bob is alive. Bob can’t die, I don’t think. Maybe they’ll be safe from me, if they can’t die. You can’t break something like them. Like an ant trying to break open a jar of sugar. Like a mouse trying to scare an elephant. Like a sandcastle trying to survive a wave. It doesn’t matter if I could get Bob hurt or not. I’ll be gone soon. As soon as I know Eve’s okay and I can get Bob to let me go. If…if they won’t then I can find someone else. Another magic user, or deity, or something. I have to go back to Arkham. I have to get back to Jason. He won’t ever come back if I’m not there. 

“How do I go home?”
“I-”
“Dad, the cactus is gone” There is a small child. Her braided hair has streaks of gray but I don’t think it’s from the Lazarus pit. It doesn’t seem like the same shade of gray. Her skin is coated in bandaids and stickers. She’s wearing pajamas and fuzzy socks. There’s a crow sitting on her shoulder. It looks comfortable.
“Eve is here,” Bob assures her. “You are meant to be sleeping Eevee.” Eevee is staring at me. I am unsure how to respond.
“You brought Joey back an didn’t get me.” She sounds offended as she walks over to me. She sits down next to me, comfortably curling up at my side. I look at Eve, panicking. I don’t want to hurt her on accident. I don’t know what to do with kids, I haven’t talked to a kid in months. I haven’t talked to anyone but Dick in weeks. I don’t know what to do with her. “Hi, Joey. We kidnapped kids to get you.”
“...hi.” I pat the top of her head. I think that’s what you’re meant to do. It’s what you do with dogs and cats and lizards. The crow that was on her shoulder has flown over to Tim.
“Wanna play Uno?”
“It is not Uno time,” Bob corrects, “it is time to sleep.”
“You’re not sleepin’.” Bobs reaches over Eve to hand me a blanket. I take it and put it on Eevee. She takes that as an invitation to sit in my lap and use my arm as a pillow. I am careful to make sure my water doesn’t spill. “We’re gonna do Uno tomorrow.”
“Yeah sure duckie. You can beat us up at Uno tomorrow.” Eevee, who is already half asleep, looks at me seriously.
“I always win.”
“I believe you.” I think the others let her win. That is what you do with children. They must know they are good at things.
“Glad you’re here. Eve missed you.” I missed Eve too. “Night Joey.”
“Good night.” I can’t remember the last time I said that. I wouldn’t say it to Dick. I don’t like him. He may be right but I don’t like him. I didn’t say it to Jason much because he patrolled and got annoyed when I was still awake. I probably said it to Steph last. I like Steph. She doesn’t want to deal with me anymore but I still like her. 

Eevee is already asleep. I do not know what to do with a sleeping child. I can not get up until she is done sleeping. It isn’t nice to wake up kids while they sleep. I hope Eevee doesn’t have bad dreams. She probably will. I know Eve has bad dreams. I definitely do. I think every Eve does. Eevee watched her Tim die, like I did. I watched my dad die like she did, even though our dads weren’t the same. I’m glad she had Bob. That she wasn’t alone. She never even met her Jason. If Bob hadn’t been there she would’ve been all the way alone. I’m glad she isn’t.

And I’m glad Eve is tethered to this universe. I’m glad she doesn’t have to keep changing worlds all the time. I’m glad they’re safe. I’m glad it has Bob. That it has a family again. I think they’re all a family. Bob definitely cares about Eve and Eevee. Eevee calls them Dad. Eve is comfortable with both of them. That’s good. I’m glad they’re both safe. But I can’t stay. I still have to go. I have to go back to Arkham. I have to go back to wait. I have to be there.
“Eve.” Their face shifts immediately.
“Joey, you don’t have to go. You shouldn’t go, I get if you’re mad at me but you should still stay.”
“I am not mad at you.” I don’t understand why they think that.
“I ditched you.”
“You were cursed. You could not stay.” Bob is being quiet. I look at him. “I want to go back home.” A moment passes. Then another. I feel like I am watching traffic during rush hour. Yes, things are moving but they are so slow and useless it feels like nothing is happening. Eve is breathing but they won’t speak. Bob is staring at me but they won’t say anything. Eevee is asleep, comfortably curled up in my lap, and she is the only one who isn’t making things hard on purpose. I want to go back. I have to go back. I need to go back. It isn’t fair to make me stay.
“I think it would be best to discuss that tomorrow.” I can’t wait until tomorrow. I’m supposed to be there now. I’m not supposed to be gone at all.
“Dick’s not coming right?” Eve looks desperate. “You still have a few days until he does.” I nod. He comes once a week to switch out the backpacks. I used to have two but now I’ve only got one. If I lose this one then I’ve got nothing to trade so I won’t get any new stuff. Like food. Or water. “Then waiting one night won’t hurt.” Eve isn’t going to listen no matter what. And I can’t make Bob do anything either. 

I don’t want to agree. That gives Eve a foothold. A starting place. I would give it hope. I don’t want to give her false hope. I don’t want them to ever think I’ll stay. But I can see Bob’s face. I can see the way they’ve been staring at the water in my hand and the way they keep almost grabbing more blankets before stopping themself. I can see how Bob looks at Eevee and Eve. I look like his patrons. Priests. Kids. Whatever Eve and Eevee are. I would want to help someone who looked like Jason and Jason isn’t a kid. Kids generally deserve to be helped. I don’t look like one, not really, and I’m not a kid but I don’t think that matters to Bob.

I don’t stand a chance. Yet. I have to annoy Bob. Not enough they won’t send me home but enough that they don’t want me anymore. It shouldn’t be to hard. I just…I just have to figure out a way to do that and not hurt Eve.
“Just one night.” Eve hugs me tightly. It doesn’t feel like a snake closing in around it’s prey. It doesn’t feel like tight pressure around a wound. It doesn’t feel like loud sudden noise right in my ears. It feels like a purple candle. It feels like fairy lights and gardens. It feels like braided hair.