Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“How could I ever do it?” Ocean asked softly. She looked at Karnak, her hazel eyes full of tears.

Karnak wasn't expecting that. “What?”

Ocean looked up, blinking away tears before they could fall. “How could I ever choose just one? I can't choose myself. They deserve to go back just as much as, if not more than, I do.” She looked back at each of her friends, mouth trembling. “Jane Doe. She deserves a life to enjoy. She deserves memories of her own. Constance should go enjoy life because she actually loves Uranium. Misha should go back and share his passion and love with other people. Noel ought to go write all his tragedies and poems. And what about his poor mother?” Ocean took a few shaky breaths. “And… I know Ricky conceded, but he deserves life. He deserves to return to his cats and write and draw and give his imagination to the world."

Ocean looked back at Karnak, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don't have a vote.” She turned her face away from the fortune teller, in pain knowing that she could never decide in time. “Please don't leave it up to me.” She stepped back, reaching for Constance's hand. “Either let them vote… or…”

Karnak turned his head to the group as they unfroze. He stared at them with glowing eyes as they moved closer to one another. They all looked at Ocean, a mix of smiles and tears on their faces.

“Why not just vote for yourself then?” Noel asked, any teasing tone he'd tried to summon missing.

“I don't deserve it,” Ocean said. “What the world needs is people like you. All of you.” She wiped her tears with one hand, squeezing Constance’s with the other. “Besides. I can't imagine going back without my closest friends.”

Misha gave her a soft look. “You are not that close to us.”

“I know,” Ocean said, smiling weakly. “You're kind of my only friends.”

Ricky rushed over and put his arms around Ocean. She hugged him back with the hand that wasn't holding Constance.

Karnak had less than four minutes.

He watched as Constance offered a hand to Jane Doe and pulled her into the hug. Noel hugged Ocean from behind. Misha hugged Noel and Constance. The six just stood together, sniffling and whispering apologies and assurances.

“I'm sorry I insulted your disability.”

“It's okay now.”

“I'm sorry I called your singing flat.”

“I'm sorry I punched you.”

“It's okay. I'm sorry I yelled.”

“I'm sorry we never listened.”

“I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

“I'm sorry you never got to share your poems.”

“I'm sorry I died mad.”

“I'm sorry she lost you.”

“I'm sorry we forgot your name.”

“We're all sorry we didn't know you.”

“I'm sorry for scaring you.”

“Don't be!”

“I'm sorry-”

“Shh. We all forgive you.”

Two minutes.

Karnak looked into his crystal ball and held up his hands. The color got brighter and bolder. The room got darker.

“I suggest you keep holding one another tightly.”

The teens looked over at Karnak, eyebrows raised.

“What are you talking about?” Ricky asked, one hand gripping Ocean's shoulder.

“I am going to attempt to send you all back.”

The singers tensed up, glancing at each other. “You told us you only had the power to bring back one,” Ocean recalled, almost accusing.

“I did say that. However, I have been touched by the six of you,” the fortune teller said. He turned his head back to them. “I have been touched by your displays of selflessness, passion, love, kindness, innocence, and humility.” The choir looked at one another and then him.

Karnak's crystal ball flared with power. “You have shown growth in less than two hours. You have shown me your true colors.” He looked back down. “Show those colors to the world. To each other.”

The curtains opened, and the choir wanted to rush into them. Instead, light enveloped the kids. All they could see in the warehouse was the fortune teller. Jane Doe reached and grabbed Ricky's arm.

“I cannot prevent that which is inevitable, but perhaps I can change the outcome,” Karnak said. “For not being able to prevent the accident, I redeem myself in my final moments.”

As he finished his sentence, a feeling of wrong washed over the group.

It felt like their organs were moving in reverse. Their blood was rushing backwards. They went from feeling light to being weighed down. The singers screamed as their entire beings were pulled every which way. Their forms were frozen in place, trapped in that hug. Was that it? Were they going to be trapped in death, still able to feel their broken bodies?

Then, without warning, Karnak exploded. Behind him, sparks were everywhere. Then, as a blaring volume, he said, “ Your lucky number is seven! Your will soar to great heights! Be sure to ride the Cyclone! ”

Their hands tightened on one another. The pain returned tenfold. They felt themselves being tugged around, a suffocating pressure imposing on their senses. They were suddenly pulled apart. Everything was weightless. Then, without warning, their minds collided with their bodies. Their blood returned to their veins. Their organs un-punctured. They felt each of their bones crack back into place. They flew up and into the air, pulling forward, pushing back. Jane was suddenly in a seat next to Ricky, a lap bar snapping down across her lap. Wheels landed on a track. The group zipped backwards at top speed followed by a crack of metal and a tentative sense of stability. The entire time, their throats were being shredded by shrieks of terror.

Suddenly, they felt their heads and bodies jerk forward as they lurched to a stop. They were no longer being thrown around, a sudden stillness granting them reprieve.

The kids looked around, gasping. They weren't in pain anymore. They were no longer in a warehouse. They were outside, on a track, in a rickety cart.

The Cyclone.

Had any of that actually happened? Had it been a bad dream? A wild fantasy?

The choir had all of two seconds to exchange looks of horror and try to figure out what was going on. By the looks in one another's eyes, they could tell they hadn't been alone in the experience.

Then, the drunk carnie pressed the button again. Their stomachs dropped, and they screamed in fear, launched onto the track all over again.

Chapter Text

14 September 2009

Ocean’s scream was isolated as the coaster slowed down. She looked up to see that they were climbing the hill. She looked at Constance, her head still spinning. “What just happened?!” Ocean yelled. Constance looked at her with wide eyes and shook her head in confusion.

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God!” Noel chanted. Ocean turned her head and saw him clutching at his chest. He was breathing heavily, his face bright red. “Not again, not again!”

Micha put an arm around his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. His right hand was still gripping the bar, his knuckles white.

Ocean wanted to take off the lap bar but knew that would only make it worse. She teared up as they came to the top of the peak. They gazed down at Uranium once more. The town suddenly seemed so much more inviting. They’d rather be stinging with cold than broken and bleeding. They’d rather be in their houses than trapped in the cart. They’d rather be in the cozy little town than a warehouse with a magical fortune-telling machine that apparently thought it was funny to make them die over, and over, and over again.

Constance stretched a hand towards the town, as if someone could take it and rescue her. Tears fell down her cheeks just as the group dropped.

Five voices harmonized as they usually did, this time in screams instead of song. They were now familiar with the multiple, smaller humps in the track. The first time, the bouncing up and down had made them giggle in delight. This time around, each one spurred on a near-sob. Constance alone was laughing. The sound wasn’t one of pleasure or excitement. It was that of a madwoman, a maenad. Her eyes were wide with terror, but she had a twisted smile plastered to her face.

The last hump ended in a steep drop. Everyone tensed up, preparing for the worst. Noel’s throat practically closed up. He helplessly reached for something. He felt something soft in his fingers. The cart suddenly leveled out, making his stomach twist. Misha pulled him closer. Noel looked up to see Misha screwing his eyes shut. His hand had apparently taken a ball of Misha’s sweater vest into it.

A different sound blasted from every angle. Their ears were being bombarded with one another’s screams. The high-speed ticking of the wheels on the track matched their racing heartbeats. From different nearby speakers, songs by Guns ‘n’ Roses, Chopped Diva, and the Beatles were blaring. It was too much. They felt as if their ears could burst. It all struck an excruciating contrast with the near-quiet of the warehouse. The cacophony invoked an almost primal terror into their bodies. These had all been the last sounds they heard before plummeting to their death.

Ocean wanted to plug her ears but worried that letting go of the bar would only invite death sooner. She gasped and sobbed dryly as they were pushed back up on the track. She gazed longingly but bitterly at the people walking below her, laughing and playing. She envied them. She wanted nothing more than to live, to touch the ground. “ Help me! ” Ocean cried out, knowing the cart was moving too fast for her words to be perceived.

As they zipped around a bend, the cart tilting to the side, Ocean felt a pressure on her fingers. Constance was grabbing her hand as if her life depended on it. Ocean turned her hand over to squeeze back as they were thrown into a corkscrew spin. Her throat might have torn from the shriek she let out.

The group went between upside down and right side up several times before they could focus on anything moving again. The nauseating sensation was doubled by the scents around them. The cotton candy was sickeningly sweet. Something was burning. Corn dogs that were probably terribly greasy. Rancid beers. That carnie probably had several - he had reeked of cheap beer. Ocean had a passing thought of how much worse this experience would be while drunk. Everything would feel slower and last longer.

Knowing the sensation better than anyone, Misha felt sick just thinking about it. Very, very sick. He barely had enough time to push Noel away before his body tensed violently. The taste of bile invaded his mouth.

“Misha!”

The Ukrainian coughed and sputtered as they were shot up higher again. Noel went back to clinging to Misha for dear life.

They rushed past some sort of game. Lights and colors blurred in and out of sight. The cart sped into a part of the track that circled a few times. For a few seconds, the ground vanished from view.

Noel couldn’t breathe.

Then, in front of them, bright lights flashed. Before they could make any sense of it, the choir was in a tunnel. Everything was pitch black. Screams ricocheted off the walls, overlapping in a horrible symphony.

“ Рятуй мене, мамо !”

“Stop the ride!”

“Get me off!”

“NO!!”

“Help!”

Without warning, yellow daylight bombarded their senses. Every singer’s face paled in dread as they were met with an all-too-familiar sight.

The loop-de-loop.

The choir stared up at the curve in the track. There was a huge gap at the top. It was supposed to be perfectly safe to jump, but this had been the point that led to their death. They stiffened as they picked up speed on the track. This time, they were aware of the fact that they’d die. The knowledge made their hearts clench and their stomachs drop.

“I love you guys!” Ocean yelled suddenly. She squeezed Constance’s hand with all her might. She wished she could see her peers one last time. “I love you guys, I love you guys, I love you, I love you!” She shut her eyes as tight as she possibly could as the cart came up to the loop.

“I love you too!” Noel shouted, hand tightening further on Misha’s vest as they were sent upwards and back.

Ocean shrieked, glancing to her left and expecting sparks. To her surprise, there were none. She heard no screeching metal. She went silent for a moment, hearing only the shrieking laughter of her best friend. Her eyes widened in confusion and shock.

They launched off the track. Ocean stared out around her. Instead of suddenly flipping over, they continued in a smooth arc. Then they were on the track again.

Just like that, they were zooming back down on the rollercoaster. The entire group went silent momentarily. They’d made it? They’d made it. They’d made it!

The relief was short-lived. A few small humps made them remember where they were.

Constance finally let out an actual scream. At last, she actually sounded terrified.

Ricky listened to the choir members in front of him start screaming again. He wished he could join them. He couldn’t get out anything more than a small whine. Tears continued to stream down his face. He was silent again. He couldn’t call out for help, no matter what. His friends' screams were practically white noise compared to his own internal screaming.

He heard a sudden clank of metal. A female voice, higher than Constance and Ocean’s, shrieked next to him. He finally looked next to him, and his heart stopped.

Jane Doe.

A girl with brown hair sat next to him, gasping and screaming, “No, no, no, no, help! ” She was holding onto her lap bar, which was a good deal higher than Ricky’s. His eyes widened when he realized that was because it was loose. The girl was desperately trying to press it down, but it wouldn’t click. Her face was red as she chanted, “Please, please, please, please…”

Ricky remembered hearing the screaming of a girl next to him and being confused because Ocean and Constance were at the front. He’d felt something touch his sleeve, but he looked over at an empty seat. She must have fallen out. He glanced forward, seeing a sharp left turn that would put the cart on its side. The side Jane Doe was on.

No.

Ricky reached towards her, grabbing her sleeve. He couldn’t move much with how tight his lap bar was. He tugged her arm until she looked at him. Her bright green eyes were filled with terror and tears. She reached for him, grabbing onto his shoulder. Once she had a hold on him, Ricky threw his arms around her waist and grabbed his own forearms so that he had a secure grip. She leaned against him, her screams muffled in his shoulder. As they came to the turn, he stiffened his arms. With the little core strength he had, he pulled back against the turn. She jerked away from him, gravity trying to tear her away. Ricky made a small, pathetic noise as he tightened his arms so that he was hugging her tightly.

It felt like they spent several minutes tilted that way, speeding around the circumference of the roller coaster track. Ricky used all the upper body strength in himself to keep her from falling. Jane Doe sobbed into his shirt. Just as they returned to being upright, a loud CRACK came from the front. Ocean screamed.

Misha looked forward. They were nearing the end of the track. He prayed that the brakes would work and this nightmare would end. Gradually, the coaster slowed a bit.

Everyone relaxed for just a moment.

They approached the platform they had entered from.

They passed the platform.

The carnie running the ride vanished behind them.

Ocean looked ahead at the turn that led into the hill. How could they be going through a second round?

Then sparks erupted everywhere, obscuring the view of their surroundings. The wheels screeched against the track, drowning out everyone’s screams. All at once, the screeching and sparking stopped.

The choir was flung off the track.

They went dead silent.

For a moment, they stared around themselves.

Time froze.

Right next to them, the Fall Fair was in full swing. Observers gasped and screamed. Children started pointing. Music was still blasting from everywhere. It smelled like vomit now.

Ocean clutched Constance in a death grip. Jane Doe pulled back to try and look at Ricky. Misha turned his body and threw an arm in front of Noel, cupping his head in his hand.

The cart flew forward. They sailed in a straight line off the track. Before anyone could even process the fact that they were falling, they hit the ground. A short scream burst from each singer at the pain that shot up through their bodies. The cart dug into the ground, kicking up dirt in place of the sparks.

Ocean looked up, hoping that was it, but her heart dropped again. She barely had time to let go of Constance and throw up her arms.

Before she could warn anyone to brace themselves, they ran into a small concrete building.

Ocean's body slammed down onto the cart, her face smashing into her arms.

Constance’s glasses shattered when her face hit the hood of the cart.

Noel and Misha fell forward together. Misha let out a deep scream as his right arm burst with pain from at least a dozen spots. He felt his head slam down. His right side was suddenly burning.

Noel cried out as his torso slammed against metal. He felt something crunch. There was a sharp pain in his back, and something popped loudly.

Ricky lost his grip on Jane Doe. His chest was flung into the front of his seat, and pain poured into his whole torso. His arm cracked loudly with the impact. He wanted to scream as he watched Jane Doe’s head smack the metal. She instantly went limp.

Chapter Text

Misha was the first to focus after the whiplash hit them. He groaned, pulling his head up and blinking. His ears were ringing. His arm was throbbing. Something smelled horribly sour. He felt something pushing at his chest and looked down. Noel groaned, still gripping his sweater vest. Misha pushed Noel up with one arm and tried to look him in the eye. Noel's eyes were wide. He was breathing heavily.

“Noel… Noel!” Misha suddenly shouted. He waited for those deep eyes to focus on him before he smiled weakly. “Ми живі.”

The poet gazed at him for a moment before giving a smile just as subdued. “We're alive?”

Misha wiped away tears just as they left Noel's eyes. “Ми живі,” he confirmed with a nod.

“We're alive!” Noel said loudly. He laughed in disbelief and pulled Misha's hand from his face, squeezing it. The pain in his side was proof. The burning, screaming pain meant he was alive to feel it.

Misha smiled, squeezing back. He wanted to lift his right arm and grab Noel's face, but it felt tingly and hot. It felt weak. He heard a weak whimper behind him, followed by something smacking the metal. He looked back and felt the blood drain from his face again at the sight.

“Ricky!”

Misha completely forgot the pain in his arm as he went to push up his lap bar. He felt his stomach churn as he flexed his arms. It took a good deal of force, but the metal moved enough for him to get off. His stomach tightened as he stumbled out of the cart. He leaned over and heaved violently. He tasted something wildly sour and bitter. Spitting, he stood up again and looked behind him.

Misha moved to Ricky's side, seeing the other sobbing and smacking the cart. Misha grabbed his hand to get his attention. “Ricky! З вами все гаразд?” The words jumbled in his brain, and he had a feeling he wasn't speaking English. “Що болить?”

Ricky just shook his head and pointed next to him. Misha looked over, horrified to see a girl with brown hair slumped over. Noel was pushing her up into a sitting position. Her whole face was stained red. It seemed to be coming from her hair. Noel rubbed her arm, saying something Misha couldn't understand. He tried to hold up her neck but just screamed. He pulled his hands away from her head and instead held her wrist so that he was touching her with two fingers. Noel looked up and said something to them. He was smiling. Misha couldn’t understand. Through his tears, Ricky smiled as well. When Misha didn't respond in kind, Noel repeated himself. On the second repeat, the words clicked for Misha.

“She's alive.”

Relief allowed Misha's face to relax. He looked around to see if anyone was nearby. People were pulling their children back, staring in shock. Someone in a uniform ran up to the crowd and motioned for them to back away. The people obeyed. The uniformed person, evidently a security guard, said something into a radio. They must have been calling for help.

It looked like someone wanted to run over. The guard put both hands up to block the bystander. The guard made no move to come near.

Misha creased his eyebrows and frowned deeply. Was nobody going to come help?

Noel's voice cut through his thoughts. “Misha! I said you have to help me get her out,” he said. Misha looked back at him. He nodded, rushing over to pull the bar off of the girl. He didn't have to do much. It was completely unlocked already. Misha hooked both his arms under her and lifted her body. Noel quickly reached to support her head. He managed to walk over to a nearby tree and set her down without issue. Noel guided her body down and made sure she was on her side. He placed one hand under her face. He moved her other arm to the side and bent her leg.

Misha went back for Ricky, using both arms to quickly push his bar up. He hooked one arm around Ricky's back. Noel ran over to do the same. Acting as his crutches, they got him over to the same place as the unconscious girl. They made sure he was sitting up against the tree.

“Are you hurt?” Noel asked. Ricky shook his head. “Are you sure?”

“Звичайно, він не в порядку! Подивіться на його руку!” Misha said, his hand jabbing at Ricky's arm. It was bent slightly at a weird angle beneath the elbow.

“What- Oh my God, Misha, your arm!” Noel shouted.

“Так! Його рука!” Misha said. He gestured to Ricky jerkily. His head spun. His guts twisted and screamed. Misha turned to the side, and his whole body spasmed again. He spat out something sour and bitter. He took a few breaths before looking up and seeing-

“Дівчата!”

Misha stood up, having realized that Ocean and Constance had never gotten out of the cart. They were still slumped over the front of their seat. He stumbled to his feet and started rushing over.

Noel looked at Ricky, not knowing whether he should leave him. Ricky pushed him, and he got the message. Ricky was a capable person. He could take care of himself for one moment. Noel got up and ran over to Misha and the other girls.

Beginning to cry again, Ricky ran his fingers over Jane Doe’s head.

Misha pushed Constance up so that she was sitting and nearly screamed. He wanted to scream for help but was silenced in shock. Constance’s nose was practically crushed into her face. Her glasses had shattered. One piece was in her forehead, others having made cuts on her upper cheeks. Blood was gradually streaming down from her face. Misha pulled her glasses off and removed the shard. Her blood smeared on his thumb when he stroked her skin. Misha wanted to throw up. “Такого не відбувається…” He wanted to shake her awake, but was so worried she’d break if he did so. He leaned down, placing his head on her chest. He tried to quiet his own breathing, which he realized was coming quickly and harshly. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t hear her heartbeat. He tried moving his ear down but still couldn’t hear.

Hands suddenly grabbed him and pulled him back. Noel moved in front of him, using his hands to hold her wrist. He was saying something in English. Misha couldn’t understand. Noel looked up at him and nodded. He was saying so many words, but the only ones he could understand were “she’s alive.”

He looked over at Ocean, still horrified. Her ginger hair was stained with a darker red that ran from somewhere near her hairline. The red was closer to that of the cart. Misha looked down and oh God there was blood all over the hood. He looked away, moving closer to Ocean and starting to panic. Her nose was crooked and gushing red. Her mouth was bleeding. One of her arms was cut and gushing blood. Misha’s view was cut off as Noel came in front of him, taking off his tie. He tied it around Ocean’s arm and pulled it so tightly it should hurt.

Noel turned to him, saying something. Misha directed all his focus entirely on his words to properly understand.

“-bars. Are you hearing me?” Noel said, grabbing Misha’s face with one hand to make sure they were locking eyes. Noel looked so lucid. “Help me lift up the bars. The safety bars, Misha. Then we need to get Ocean and Constance out of here.”

Misha nodded, vaguely understanding what Noel meant. The exact words slipped away from him, but he knew what he had to do. He moved forward and grabbed onto Constance’s lap bar. He pulled it towards him, successfully unlocking it. Noel went behind Constance and hooked one arm around her, underneath her arm. He said something, pointing at her. Misha hoped he knew what Noel wanted. He wrapped his arms around Constance’s legs and held onto her. As Noel moved to support both of her arms, he adjusted his position so that he was under her thighs. That way, Noel had a little less weight to carry. More slowly, they got Constance over to the other two. Misha bent down to set her in the dirt. Noel had him move her so she was on her side. Ricky looked at Constance in horror, more tears streaming from his eyes. Misha felt his body tense and convulse. Ricky looked up at Noel. The poet put a hand on his shoulder and said something. Ricky seemed less scared but not comforted.

They went back for Ocean. Since Ocean was more petite, Misha had no problem getting a hold of her. He scooped her out of the seat and held her so her head rested on his shoulder. Her blood might have run onto his chest, but it was barely visible against the dark red fabric of his shirt. Noel walked with him, keeping a close eye on Ocean. He set the girl down so that she was also on her side. There was distant yelling, but Misha ignored it. He sat down, shaking. He looked over at Noel, who was shaking slightly. He approached Ricky, taking his right arm. He moved his hands in certain ways over it until Ricky’s eyes widened. The imaginative one slammed his other fist on the ground. Noel said something. Misha couldn’t figure out what the words meant.

The girls were all unconscious. They were bleeding. So much blood. They were alive. Alive. Ricky was hurt. Ricky was crying. Noel was talking. Something smelled vile and pungent. Misha wanted to sob. Noel was talking to Ricky. Misha could feel sharp pains in his arm.

Noel turned to Misha, saying something. He started touching Misha’s arm, making the Ukrainian wince. He got to one point that made Misha cry out. He continued feeling down his arm. Somewhere along his forearm, Misha felt pain and tried to push Noel away. Noel backed off. Misha noticed him say something to Ricky, who nodded in answer. Misha’s eyes drifted down to Constance. She was bleeding. Her face was a mess. Was Noel saying something to him? She was out like a broken lightbulb. Was she still alive? Something touched Misha’s arm. Ocean didn’t look good. Was she still alive? Something else touched his arm. Was Ocean going to survive if she kept bleeding?

“Лайно!” Misha cried out as something squeezed his arm. He tried to pull away, but Noel’s grip was firm.

“I warned you!” Noel said. He tightened something, a belt, around Misha’s bicep. He managed to secure the leather strap. He reached for Misha’s pants. Before the Ukrainian could come up with words in English, Noel was undoing his belt. “Stay still, or you’ll make it worse.” He yanked off Misha’s belt. The poet picked up two thick sticks and placed them on Misha’s forearm. He then wrapped Misha’s belt around them and pulled it tight. Misha cried out. He slapped his own thigh and tried to bite his tongue. “I know, I know,” Noel said, looping the belt around and securing it. He put a hand on Misha’s face to focus him. “Misha, stay with me.” The Ukrainian nodded. A motion made him look over. Ricky was leaning against the tree, still crying. His forearm was also wrapped by a belt and two sticks. Misha used his free arm to stand up a bit and walk over to Ricky. He sat next to him and let Ricky lean on him. He wrapped his left arms around Ricky’s shoulders. Tears joined Ocean’s blood on his sweater vest.

The sound of sirens suddenly approached. Noel was sitting on the ground, panting heavily. People were shouting. Misha shut his eyes, turning his head so half his face was hidden in Ricky’s hair. It was sweaty and tangled now. He heard Noel saying something in a panic. Why couldn’t he understand the words? One of Ricky’s hands reached and wrapped around Misha’s collar. He tugged at it. Ricky was shaking. The smallest, weakest whimpers came from him.

Misha looked up when he heard Noel start talking. The girls were being loaded onto stretchers. Misha heard “broken arms” and “neck” and “bleeding.” Ocean and Constance went one way. The brown-haired girl went another. As they left his view, he whispered, “Не вмирай на мені.” As a tall woman helped him stand, Misha allowed his mind to wander. He was only aware that Noel and Ricky were being taken into the same vehicle. They were getting helped. They would be alright. Would they be alright? Were the girls still alive? His arm hurt.

Chapter Text

The nurse was a handsome young man sitting in a chair. Misha was on the stretcher, pulling at his hair, muttering something in Ukrainian. Noel was next to Ricky on the bench. His voice was the only defining noise in the ambulance.

Ricky listened to Noel explain what he knew about their injuries. He cradled his right arm in his left, trying not to worry about how damn badly it hurt. Was he going to have to lose it? That couldn’t happen. He needed his arm to use his crutches. He needed to be able to use them. He didn’t need another excuse for people to pity him. He felt something sticky on his fingers and pulled his left hand up to look at it. Some brownish liquid was on the side of his shirt.

The nurse suddenly said something to him. Ricky let him take his hand. “What’s this?” the nurse wondered aloud. Ricky blushed at the gentle touch. He looked up at the man, unable to answer. He couldn’t give one even if he knew. “What do you have all over the both of you?”

Noel budded in. “Sir, Ricky can’t speak,” Noel said. He frowned. “Misha threw up. It probably got on us when Misha was helping get everyone out.”

“He threw up?” the nurse repeated. He looked back at the Ukrainian. “Did you hit your head? Is that when you threw up?”

“Голова в мене в порядку. Турбуйтеся про них,” Misha said, using his unsplinted arm to motion to Noel. Misha suddenly stiffened, and he gagged. He leaned over himself, breathing heavily for a moment.

“Does that one not speak English?” the nurse asked.

Noel shook his head and sighed. “He does. I don’t think he’s thinking clearly. After he and I got out of the cart, he started acting… distant. He hasn’t really spoken English since then.”

“Did he hit his head? When did he throw up?” The nurse kept pressing, typing up note after note.

“I don’t know if he hit his head. He was covering mine,” Noel admitted. “I wasn’t really in the position to see.” Noel looked down at the brown stain on his vest. “He threw up on the ride. Before the crash.”

“So the vomiting was most likely not trauma-related,” the nurse said out loud.

“Well, he threw up afterward,” Noel added. “Once when we got out and once just before we realized Ocean and Constance weren’t moving.”

The nurse looked at him. “You know their names?”

“Ocean O’Connell-Rosenburg and Constance Blackwood,” Noel answered despite not being asked.

“None of us recognized the brunette. What was her name?”

Ricky teared up. Noel glanced down, hands in his lap. “I don’t know her name.” Noel flushed with shame. Ricky let a tear fall. How could they not know who she is? After all this time, how could they not know who she was? They’d rehearsed with her, performed with her, and been on the ride with her. Ricky had been right next to her . How did they never learn at least her first name?

“Do you?” the nurse asked Misha.

“Я не знаю її імені. Ми її не знаємо,” Misha said with a shaky voice.

Noel clarified before the nurse could ask. “None of us know who she is.” They were all horrible people for it.

Ricky looked over at Misha, whose arm looked like a whole mess. It was better now that Noel had splinted it, but it was still misshapen, hand bent awkwardly. It was turning dark purple.

Ricky wondered how Noel knew what he was doing. How Noel looked so free of pain. How he seemed so lucid. Was Noel not hurt? Ricky was glad if that was the case. Noel, at least, could walk away unharmed. Misha would hopefully be fine. Ricky was fairly sure of his own survival.

“Do you feel any pain?” the nurse asked Noel. Noel shook his head. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, my side hurt when we hit the wall,” Noel said. He shrugged. “Adrenaline is one hell of a drug. I can’t feel anything anymore.” Noel laughed. “How about that? I’m high.”

What about the girls? Ocean and Constance had looked like utter messes.

That girl with green eyes. Those green eyes, wide with terror and welling up with tears.

Ricky started tearing up just thinking about her.

The Jane Doe. She was so badly hurt. He couldn’t stop what happened to her. Her neck looked wrong. What if it had broken? What if she died anyway? She’d been so sweet. She just needed love. What would happen to her now? He knew how this would happen. Her parents would never come to claim her. If anything happened to Father Markus, she’d go unidentified. She’d be a Jane Doe again.

Noel turned to Ricky, placing a hand on his wrist. “Ricky, what else hurts?” Ricky opened his mouth, almost expecting to be able to speak. He began to tear up when nothing came out. He looked away and motioned to his chest. His ribs kind of hurt, especially on the right side.

Noel relayed that information to the nurse. Ricky didn’t even try to hide the tears as they ran down his face yet again. Noel just rested a hand on his back while the nurse spoke again.

___

Ocean’s body was screaming in agony. She couldn't think of one place that didn't hurt. Her arms were burning. Were they bleeding? Were they broken? Did she still have her hands? She couldn't move them. She was breathing naturally, but each breath made her lungs cry out. Was she being stabbed? Were her ribs killing her? What if blood was pouring internally? Was blood pouring externally? What tasted like metal? Why couldn't she breathe through her nose? She could hardly breathe. Her legs were numb. Her back was aching like crazy. Were her legs still there? Her head was pounding. Her brain was throbbing against her skull. Her neck ached. Was it broken? Was it straight? Was she bleeding?

Her eyes were blurry. When she opened them, she was met with a world of red. It took her a few minutes to slowly blink the redness away. Eventually, it fell from her eyes. She looked around herself.

Everything was still blurry.

Ocean tried to groan, but it came out as a low whimper. Something metallic was in her mouth. She wanted to spit, but her mouth felt paralyzed.

There were voices. They were saying words. She didn't understand.

What was happening? What had happened? She could only move her eyes. She saw fluffy brown hair.

Constance.

When had Ocean last seen Constance?

The Cyclone.

Oh God.

Ocean wanted to scream, to cry, to yell. She was stuck. She could barely make a sound, let alone move her mouth. That fairground was going to pay for her spilled blood. Pay for hurting Constance.

Noel, Ricky, Misha, Constance, were they okay? What was wrong? Ocean couldn’t see Constance's face. Where were the guys? She hadn't seen them. Were they dead? What if Ocean was the only survivor? No. She'd told Karnak she didn't want to. She didn't want to go back without them. How was she supposed to go on when the best people she'd ever met were dead? What about that girl? The doll? Had she still lost her head? Where was she? Where were the boys? What about the girl? Where even was she?

Sirens. Sirens behind the voices. Ambulance. Hospital. As her mind fogged up, Ocean could only think of that. Hospital. Help. Healing. Living.

___

Within minutes of getting to work, she heard the words she feared every day.

“Carolyn, we need you to step into the office.”

“Oh no, am I fired?” Carolyn asked, eyes wide.

Doctor LeBlanc motioned for her to walk in. She frowned as she did so, leaving behind the hallways suddenly full of motion. People began to shout as the door closed. “You’re not fired. We just need you to stay here. We’ll get back to you,” LeBlanc ordered. The man went back out the door. “Under no circumstances are you to leave this room.”

The door shut, and Carolyn was left in shock. Great.

What had she done? Was she in trouble? What could she have done? She hadn’t done anything against the Hippocratic Oath. She couldn’t lose this job. Without this job, she had nothing. She had no chance of surviving. She needed to support her son.

Groaning, she took off her lanyard and dropped it on a chair. It had already been such a long day. There was a childbirth that had not gone as planned and required too many drugs. One child had gotten something stuck up his nose, and her eardrums had nearly burst just walking by the room. The most impatient people seemed to be in her care.

Carolyn just wanted to go home, watch a movie, and sleep. Instead, she might have to go home, sob, contemplate her existence, regret every choice she’d ever made, hug her son as tightly as possible, get drunk, and apply for jobs.

She sat down and leaned against the glass wall, listening to the chaos. People started shouting. She heard the sirens of the ambulance outside. There had to be at least two. Two? She turned, looking through the shutters and into the hall. What was happening? Shouldn’t she be helping?

But Dr. LeBlanc had ordered her to stay here. He had to have had a good reason. Besides, the doctors and the rest of the nurses could handle it just fine. If Carolyn specifically was needed, they’d come get her.

Suddenly, a door must have opened, because new noise flooded in. Wheels were creaking. People were running down the hallway. They moved past her so quickly, she could barely make out what was happening or who was there. She only saw a brown braid dangle off the side of the stretcher. She managed to catch the words “fractured vertebrae” and “concussion” before they disappeared into the operating room.

There was a lot more shouting. Another group ran by. She caught only parts of sentences. “-accident. We have six victims. All of them aged-” She turned back for a second, instinctively wanting her phone. She should call home. She ought to tell her son what was going on. This would be a late night. But her phone wasn’t there. She was alone.

From outside, she heard, “-a ward for three patients. We have bones to set-” Carolyn didn't like the sound of that. She turned to look, but all she saw was a doctor pushing a wheelchair around the corner. She leaned against the window, parting the blinds more. She wanted to see more. She looked up to a male nurse as he ran in, but he avoided eye contact. She locked eyes with a doctor, but he quickly turned away, talking to someone else. Why was everyone ignoring her?

The shouts quickly became white noise. Carolyn pulled the tie out of her hair and let it fall around her face. If nobody was going to tell her what was happening or ask for help, she might as well rest. She was already so sleep-deprived. It had been a long day. She’d gotten to go back to Uranium for less than an hour. After that, she had driven three hours to come back. She was tired enough from the drive before any of her tasks. She supposed that’s what she’d asked for taking this job. It paid well enough to keep living well, but it took up so much time. The drive was awful, but she couldn’t part with Uranium yet. Even if her current situation left her exhausted all but one day a week.

The beeping of machines and shouting of orders quickly faded into white noise.

Carolyn must have fallen asleep, because she woke up to the sound of doors slamming open. She startled and turned around to watch. People were rushing around. “We need a transfusion ASAP,” somebody called out. There was a lot of shouting. Carolyn caught a glimpse of a short person with dark skin being wheeled into the OR. She frowned, wondering why she wasn’t helping.

“-in the accident. We need Dr. LeBlanc, stat!”

“Would somebody page-”

“-broken nose-”

“-possible damage to the spine-”

“The x-ray showed three cracked ribs-”

“He has a cracked sternum, but-”

“-needs type O negative-”

“We have the police here-”

“He has at least one slipped rib-”

“-is still no word on the Jane Doe.”

Jane Doe? Carolyn frowned, pressing her hand against the glass. She wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.

She watched a few police officers rush by with a doctor.

“-a Jane Doe. Appears to be between sixteen and eighteen years old. Brown hair, green eyes. She’s five feet and six inches tall. She was wearing-”

Carolyn huffed and stood up so she could pace. What was taking so long? Why wasn’t LeBlanc coming back for her? It wasn’t a secret she was in here. Everyone who passed by avoided looking at her. Why wouldn’t anyone talk to her? If she was going to be ignored, she might as well go home. Why couldn’t she go home? She just wanted to be with her son.

Just as she was contemplating walking out, the door opened. Doctor Tremblay stepped in. There was a yellow-green stain on the front of her white coat.

Carolyn quickly walked over to her. “What is happening?! I heard about the car accident. Why is nobody even looking at me? Is that bile on your coat? What’s all this about a Jane Doe? How bad was this car accident?”

“It wasn’t a car accident. The rollercoaster at the fair in Uranium malfunctioned,” Tremblay said. Carolyn’s eyes widened at the name of her town. Tremblay put her hands on Carolyn’s shoulders. “I need you to listen. So far, all six of the victims are alive. Three females are in the ICU.”

“That doesn’t explain why I was locked in the office,” Carolyn insisted. She put her hands firmly on her colleague’s arms. “Why is everyone keeping me in the dark?”

Tremblay sighed and looked into her eyes. “Please don’t panic when I tell you, Nurse Gruber.”

Chapter Text

Noel stared at the foot of his bed, still processing the evening's events. After they'd gotten to the hospital, he’d started feeling like he was in another dream. Noel didn’t quite feel alive out of shock, but he didn’t feel dead because the pain started settling in. His ribs felt like they were trying to stab his lungs. He became aware of a sharp pain in his back that made it suddenly hard to move.

The last several hours had consisted of x-rays, exams, a hefty amount of drugs, and wishing he knew where his mother was. Noel wasn’t paying attention to everything they did and told him. He nodded along, trusting that they knew what they were doing.

After hours of pain, numbness, agony, and anxiety, he'd been admitted to a room with Misha and Ricky. He didn't know where the girls were. He could only hope they were okay.

The left side of Noel's body was covered in bruises. A few of his ribs were, indeed, broken. No wonder they felt so tender. One of them had slipped. He’d gotten good local anesthetic for that. His back had been crying out pathetically. He could still feel the dull aches. Luckily, he was very heavily drugged up on painkillers. An IV dripped into his arm, pumping him full of relief and vitamins. This was far from the first bag today, as he had been given blood earlier. All the meds had made him feel achy and quiet. His mind was still fuzzy, but he preferred that to the excruciating pain.

Noel had been the lucky one.

They all had some number of broken ribs and back pain. He was conscious. He had no concussion or broken arm. The girls were a mess and might have been dead for all he knew.

Ricky's right arm was now in a cast, the makeshift splint having been taken away. Noel wasn't sure where their clothes were right now. They'd been put into light blue hospital gowns. Misha had put up a fight for several minutes until Noel had convinced him to just change. His uniform was soaked in blood, vomit, and tears. The new paper gowns, while far from comfortable, felt lighter and cleaner.

More nurses had asked about the substance on their vests. Noel explained at least three times that Misha had puked. He'd been dry heaving. Multiple times, he'd just tensed up while his brain convinced his body of things that weren't true. Once, he'd just managed to spit bile on a doctor. He was concussed, as Noel had worried. That was probably why he was having trouble speaking anything but Ukrainian at the moment. His left arm was hooked up to a drip bag as well. He'd needed several different drugs. It took countless before he actually started calming down. His right arm was in a proper sling now. It looked like a hot mess, and Noel knew the doctors would have to do more about it later. He could only pray that Misha wouldn’t lose it.

Ricky's arm seemed to be doing fine. The break wasn't as major. Misha's arm had been borderline crushed. Ricky had a cracked sternum, but it wasn't life-threatening. He'd been given an IV but hardly reacted to it. Despite that, he wasn't as distant as Noel remembered him being before the accident. Guilt tugged at his stomach at the idea that Ricky had always been this responsive, but Noel had never seen. He was sitting closest to the door, on Noel's left. Ricky used his good hand to trace something into the sheets.

His parents were somewhere in an office, now discussing with the doctors. Noel knew that would take ages, as Ricky's parents still refused to communicate in any human language. Misha's adoptives had been called. They'd pointed out that he was a legal adult and all but hung up on him. The doctors had more pressing concerns, and hadn't pushed them. Misha could make legal decisions for his care. Though it would be better if he had a support system, nobody had the time to argue with the adoptives.

Misha was sitting on Noel's right, closest to the wall. He had been unusually quiet and sad-looking since the painkillers kicked in. Noel was scared. He wanted Misha to lash out or yell or sob. He was just staring at the wall, trying to contemplate the reality of his situation. He'd been left to this alone. At least Ricky wasn't alone, even if his parents were stubborn, ignorant people. They'd come immediately, showered him with concern and love, and gone to work everything out.

Noel knew he wasn't alone. He was actually surprised that-

Footsteps thundered down the hall. A woman shouted at a nurse or attendant. Some man shouted, “You shouldn't be-”

“I didn’t ask!” shouted a woman.

The doorknob clicked open. A woman with voluminous dark hair stood there, panting. She was wearing dark blue scrubs but no badge. She looked over the boys, her eyes widening when she locked gazes with Noel.

“Mon bêbê cherí!”

She immediately bolted over and half sat on the edge of his bed. She reached out her hands, which were trembling. She took Noel's face into them. He lifted his hands to hold hers. “Oh, mon fils! Noël, tu vas bien?”

Noel smiled brightly, immediately tearing up. He squeezed the woman's hands, trying to stabilize them. “Je vais bien, maman. Je suis en vie,” the boy said. “Je suis en vie.”

Misha looked at Ricky in confusion, not knowing who this was. Ricky just smiled, looking at the woman with awe. She continued to whisper to Noel in French for a moment until he started crying. She pulled him into a hug, causing him to gasp sharply.

She pulled away. “Oh my gosh! Bêbê, I'm sorry.”

Noel shook his head, grabbing her hands. “No, I'm fine! The left side just hurts a lot.”

The woman instantly moved to his right, more gently hugging him from there. “Oh, mon fils.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “J'avais si peur.”

Noel leaned into her, still crying softly. He turned his face into her chest, wishing she could make everything stop hurting and get better. “J'avais peur, Maman.”

Misha looked back at Ricky, who just pointed to her and made some sort of gesture. “What?” Misha said, his voice weak. He swallowed. He hadn't spoken in a bit, he supposed.

Noel looked up at him, causing the woman to follow. She pulled back, one hand still around Noel's head. Noel blinked in surprise before wiping his eyes. “Misha, you spoke English.”

“Yes,” the Ukrainian said. He wasn't sure when he'd settled down enough to process the words, but he had at some point. “Who?”

Noel looked up at the brunette and smiled. “This is my mom.”

The woman looked over at the Ukrainian. “Yes. I'm Noel's mother. You may call me Carolyn. I know who you are,” she said, frowning slightly. “Misha, yes? The one from Ukraine?” The boy in question nodded. “How are you feeling? Does anything still hurt?”

“Not much,” Misha said. “Only head and arm.” He twisted his face in discomfort but said nothing more.

Noel said softly to his mother, “He hit his head. Hasn't been speaking much. Might be shock, might be damage.” Carolyn nodded.

Ricky reached and tapped the railing of his bed with his nail so that it made a ringing sound. Carolyn looked over and smiled at him sweetly. “Ricky, sweetie. Are you okay?” Ricky nodded. “I'm glad. I was told they called your parents,” Carolyn said with a small frown. Ricky nodded again. “That’s good… Have they come to see you yet?” Ricky nodded. “Good. Good. I… I need to talk to them. And talk to the doctors.” She pulled Noel back in close. “Not yet. I'm sure you were all very scared. I can't believe this. I can't believe someone could let this happen.”

“Me neither… Are you gonna sue?” Noel asked.

“Absolutely!” Carolyn said. “Nobody hurts my baby. Nobody.” She ran her hand through Noel's hair, rocking him soothingly. “What even happened?”

“Didn't they tell you? The axle broke. The cart flew off at the loo- at- at the end. And- And we hit a wall,” Noel said, heart skipping a beat as he remembered the first crash. Leaving the track of the loop-de-loop, not landing, crashing on the ground. Tears dripped from his eyes. “It hurts.”

“I'm sure,” Carolyn said, looking at the other boys.

“The girls,” Misha said loudly, startling everyone else. “The girls?”

“They're in the ICU. That's all I know,” she said. She looked down at Noel, stroking his hair. “The moment I heard you were in the crash, I wanted to find your room. I didn't get much more information before I ran up here.”

Noel smiled softly, leaning into her and letting his eyes slip closed. He absorbed her warmth, listening to her racing heart.

Misha looked at the pair, eyes filling with tears. He clenched his jaw and looked down at the linoleum floor.

“I… I want to stay here. I want to hold you and take care of you,” Carolyn said, pulling back to look at Noel. “But now I know you're alive. You're okay. Now I have so much work to do. I have to talk to so many doctors and probably sign some things. Oh my gosh, Ricky, I'll talk to your parents. At least I can try . Misha, do you want me to talk with yours?”

Misha looked up at her, glaring. “No. They can rot.” He turned away, hoping she wouldn't see the tear that fell.

“Ces salauds ont refusé de venir. Ils disaient qu’il était adulte et qu’il n’avait donc pas besoin d’eux,” Noel muttered. His mother's eyes widened. She clutched Noel closely. He squeezed her hand.

“Ensuite, je dois leur parler,” she said coldly.

“Check on the girls,” Noel said. He tightened his grip on her hand. “Please. I need to know if they're okay.”

“Yes,” Misha said. He looked at her with a tear-stained face. “Я хочу, щоб дівчата були добре.”

Carolyn looked at him in confusion but shook it off. “I will. I'm going to get information. I… I need to go. I promise to come back tonight.”

She stood up, not before leaning down and kissing Noel's head. She actually pressed a few kisses to his face. “Tout ira bien, mon bébé chéri. Je t'aime tellement.”

“Je t'aime plus, maman,” Noel said, a few more tears falling. He tried to trick himself into believing that childhood nonsense about kisses. He tried to trick himself into believing his mom's kiss made it all better. “Je t'aime plus.”

As she started walking out, Ricky reached for her. Carolyn turned and smiled. She sat next to Ricky. “What do you want, sweetie?” He held his arms out pathetically. One was still in a sling, and the other was connected to a tube. Noel’s heart twisted at the sight. Carolyn nodded and hugged the boy gently, not wanting to hurt him in the least. Ricky winced but didn't let go. He pressed his face into her shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them after only a second, gasping. Carolyn hushed him, one hand making its way into his curly hair and raking through it. “Shh. You’re okay. You’re safe here.” She pulled back and stood up. “I'll take care of everything. You boys relax.” She gently kissed Ricky on the forehead. “I'll come back.”

With that, she walked out, trying her hair back.

Ricky's face was notably pinker when the door closed. Fingers brushed the spot on his forehead where her lips had touched him. He looked back at Noel and grinned playfully.

Noel raised an eyebrow at the other, scanning him for some hint at what he wanted to communicate. Suddenly, Noel stopped crying.

Yesterday, he wouldn't have suspected a thing. Just Ricky being silly. Now, having gotten to know him so well, Noel was kind of revolted. “No. No! Ew!” Noel said, shaking his head. “You cannot- No, you can’t have a crush on my mom, that’s-” He stopped, dramatically gagging.

Ricky snickered silently, his face turning redder.

Noel's eyes widened. “Gross! That's- No! No, why?”

Ricky just whistled. Noel gagged again. “Ew, I hate that! Just. No. Nu-uh. Stop. Fuck you, don't do that around me.”

Misha smiled weakly at Noel. “She seems nice.”

Noel hummed, still glaring at Ricky, who was now making a sort of choked-sounding laugh. “Yeah. My mom’s the best. Like. She’s amazing.”

“She is doctor?”

Noel shook his head. “A nurse. And a very respected one. Her maternal instincts make her really popular with the younger patients.”

Ricky cocked an eyebrow at Noel, making the poet groan.

“Don’t make me wish I’d never gotten to know you,” Noel said, rubbing his face. “To think, you of all people would be so incredibly horny.”

“Constance, too,” Misha added.

Noel grimaced and tried not to think about it. He thought he had little self-respect. Knowing that Constance had just lost her virginity in a damn porta potty? That was disgusting. And concerning. He contemplated telling his mother about it, but decided that now was far from the right time.

Noel wrapped one arm around himself and rested his head back. Today had been a lot. The last few hours had been the scariest and most painful of his life. Noel shut his eyes for a moment, but almost instantly felt sick.

Total darkness. Spinning black.

He opened his eyes, gasping and sitting up more. The action made his ribs shriek. He whimpered and bit his lip to keep from crying. Ricky and Misha were looking at him, both very concerned. He averted his eyes, trying to make his voice sound less shaky. “It’s… I just… I started thinking of the… the crash. The first one.”

There was a moment of silence as Ricky and Misha exchanged glances. Noel wanted to shut his eyes and block it out, but that action would invite it in. He took a few breaths before muttering, “We can’t tell anyone. We- We can’t tell a soul.”

“Why?” Misha asked.

“People are gonna think we’re crazy,” Noel pointed out, staring at Misha with wide eyes. He turned his head to Ricky. “What are we supposed to tell him? We died and got resurrected by a magic fortune teller machine? They’ll think there’s something wrong with us. We could end up in a phsyc ward or something.” Misha and Ricky’s eyes widened. They stared at Noel and then at one another. “ Especially if we want to sue. People can’t think we’re all crazy.” Ricky nodded slowly, gazing at the floor.

Misha’s face twisted in pain. “Never speak of it?”

Noel shrugged. “With each other, I guess… But I really, really don’t want to right now.”

Noel felt the tears roll down his face. They’d died. They’d lived. They’d crashed. They were here. Noel tried to blink away the tears but only succeeded in making more fall. He wished his mom was still holding him.

Ricky made a tapping sound to get his attention. The teen picked up a remote off of his commode and pointed at the television. Noel smiled. Even before, he’d never really had Ricky try and interact with him like this. Noel felt like he knew Ricky way better. He liked the new, rather, the real Ricky Potts.

If he ignored the fact that Ricky apparently had the hots for his mom.

Trying not to think about that, Noel said, “Sure, I’d like to watch something.” Ricky’s smile warmed his heart. The teen flicked on the television, trying to search for something mind-numbing. He found some sort of cartoon and left it, leaning back and resting his head on a pillow he'd propped up.

Misha stared at the screen, thoughts dancing behind his eyes but not coming out. Noel wanted to say he'd be okay. He wanted to promise they'd make it. They were alive this time.

Saying that wouldn't help, though. They were still hospitalized. They were still in pain. They were still scared. The girls were all unconscious and under intensive care. The fact was that they weren't okay.

So Noel just turned to the screen like the other two and tried to get comfortable.

Eventually, without trying, and out of pure physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion, the three all drifted to an uncomfortable sleep.

As promised, Carolyn did come back that night. She dimmed the light and shut off the television, hoping that wouldn't stir the teens awake. Before she left, she went over and kissed Noel on the forehead. “Je t'aime, mon beau garçon,” she whispered. She frowned as she looked at Misha and Ricky. Sighing, she left the room, wondering one thing.

How can this be fair?

Chapter Text

15 September 2009

Ricky’s voice rang through the fair as they screamed. The cart flung forward faster than a rocket. Something scratched at Ricky’s shoulder. A woman’s scream drifted away before he even realized it was next to him. They were upside down, then rightside up. Upside down, then rightside up. Upside down rightside up. Upside rightside up down and round and round. Total darkness, spinning black.

Without warning, all of that stopped. The cart slammed into the ground. Ricky was flung out of the cart faster than a comet. They hit the dirt. For a moment, it was just dirt. It was just the ground. It was just Ricky and their gasps for air. All of a sudden, sirens were nearby. They hadn’t even approached. Ricky stood, staring at the ground for a moment. They looked around and directly at the wreckage. Their eyes blew wide and they fought the urge to puke.

Ocean was lying in front of the cart. Her neck was bent almost ninety degrees. Her hair was stained a whole other red color. Constance was still in the seat, hanging out of the side. Her forehead was practically caved in. Noel and Misha were slumped in a heap. One of their bodies was run through with what should have been a safety bar. Both of them were groaning loudly for a moment before one voice suddenly stopped. The other faded away soon after. Several feet away, someone in a uniform dress was lying without a head.

“No!” Ricky yelled clearly, sprinting over. Their feet pounded against the ground to beat the paramedics. “Savannah, please!” They crouched by the body, shaking their head. Sniffling loudly, they pulled her up to themself. Her blood poured down the front of their uniform, but they didn’t care. “No! Please don’t leave me.”

He looked back at the others, watching as their helpless bodies were left in the wreckage. “Why aren’t you helping them?!” If Ricky was alive, how was it they couldn’t be? It wasn’t fair for them to live when the choir had to die. “You have to save them! Don’t give up on them!” Ricky knew they looked cold and hopeless and dead. But they weren’t! They deserved salvation!

“Ocean! Constance!” They shouted. “Noel! Misha! Wake up!”

Ricky gasped and sobbed, holding onto the girl. He watched as police officers came to inspect the scene. There was shouting. There were sirens. Louder than it all, Ricky was shouting. “Wake up! Wake up!” They set down the girl’s body and stood up, stomping their feet. “Come on! You can wake up. You need to wake up! Please!”

___

Noel was quiet when he woke up. Ricky watched him silently, having been awake and anxious for at least an hour. Noel hissed softly and tried to relax his body.

The television was still playing. Noel looked to the side at Misha, who was still sound asleep. He had turned his head to the side so they both could see the discomfort etched into his face. Noel looked over to Ricky. He smiled weakly and waved at him. He wanted so badly to rant and vent about everything but knew there was no point trying. Noel waved back tiredly. “How did you sleep?” the romantic boy asked.

It was terrible. I had a nightmare. I had a horribly bloody nightmare. I dreamt that nobody even tried to save you. I was yelling and running, but it wasn’t helping. I saw each of you die. The first time. There was so much spinning. My mind is still spinning. There's too much on my mind. I can still see it.

Ricky gave him a face of utter disgust and discomfort. Noel frowned sympathetically.

“Me too,” he said softly. He glanced down at the remote that was still in Ricky’s possession. “I kept seeing that dang fortune teller. Darkness but with some flashing lights. It was awful.”

Ricky frowned at him and looked away.

Not even. I wish I’d seen Karnak. I wish I’d been there with you all. That would have been better than you all dying. I had to look at it all again. It was so bloody. Will I always have nightmares like this? I can only imagine the kind of damage that’s been done to us psychologically. My bones will heal. The wounds will heal. My ribs and arms will be perfectly fine. It’s in my mind. I remember how it feels to walk and dance and talk and sing. I want to do all those things. I’m trapped. I can’t even tell you I had a nightmare. You’d listen if I could tell you, wouldn’t you, Noel?

Ricky could feel their eyes start shining. Their face went red. Before Noel could come up with something to say, his mother walked in, rolling a cart with a few trays. She smiled when she saw him, sighing in relief. She pushed the door all the way with her hip and let it fall closed behind her.

“You’re already awake. That’s good,” Carolyn said. She smiled and placed a tray on the table at the foot of Ricky’s bed. Ricky reached for it, but could not pull the table closer to get the sweet-smelling meal. Carolyn went over and did the same for Noel.

“Not really. I didn't sleep well,” the poet said softly. Carolyn left the last tray on Misha’s table and returned to Noel.

She kissed him on the forehead, gently wrapping her arms around him. “I didn’t expect you to…”

“Ça fait mal, Maman.”

“Je sais. Je suis désolé, mon bébé. J'aimerais pouvoir enlever toute la douleur,” Carolyn muttered. She kissed the top of his head then pulled away, stroking his jaw with her thumb. Ricky heard Noel gasp softly when he got a good look at her face. She was exhausted. She’d probably gotten only an hour or two of sleep the night before. Her eyes had dark circles, they were puffy, her hair was in a very messy bun, and her bangs were being held back haphazardly by a headband. Noel used one hand to hold hers, kissing her palm before letting her pull away.

Poor thing. Did you sleep at all? Did you have a nightmare too? Of course you would have. Your son almost died. That is, he did die, but then he came back to life and almost died. Can we even tell you that? Of course we can’t! Oh, how could a woman be okay at all when her son was hospitalized? To think you still look gorgeous when you’re dead tired. Has anyone ever told you just how gorgeous you are? You have the softest, kindest brown eyes. Even a mess, your hair is fluffy. I just want to bury my face in it and disappear. I have so much to tell and ask you. It hurts. My mind itself hurts. I don’t even know what you can do to help. I just need help. My mind is bursting at the seams.

Carolyn pushed the table closer to Noel, showing him a tray with some oatmeal and eggs. “You three should be able to eat just fine. Call someone if anything is wrong.” She gently smoothed Noel’s hair. “I tried to get you boys the nice maple flavor, at least.”

“Thank you, Maman,” Noel said. His mother went over and pushed the table over Ricky so he could grab his food. “How are the others?”

The nurse stiffened, her eyes going wide. “Oh! Um- The girls are okay. They’re all stable.” She pursed her lips as she picked up the remote and shut off the television. Almost immediately, Misha grumbled and looked up.

Noel narrowed his eyes on her. “What happened?”

“What? Nothing, don’t worry.”

Ricky noticed Noel’s look and furrowed his eyebrows.

Nothing? Is that bad? Is that good? What does nothing mean? Nothing is getting better? Are they doing nothing? Are the girls all still unconscious? Are they even breathing on their own? What does nothing mean?

“Maman-”

“Just eat your oatmeal, mon-”

“Mom, if you don’t tell me, I will make up worse ideas in my head,” Noel said sternly. Misha blinked and looked up at the woman. Ricky paused with a mouth full of oatmeal and looked up at the woman.

Carolyn bit her lip as she glanced between the teens and sighed. “Okay… I need you to know that everyone is okay. The doctors handled it. But…”

“But?” Misha repeated, almost glaring.

She sighed. “Okay. Constance was in surgery this morning. During the surgery, she started coding for a minute.” Noel’s face dropped. “She’s okay! The surgeons got her back on track almost instantly.”

“Coning? What is coning?” Misha asked quietly.

Ricky’s eyes blew wide.

Coding?! Oh, no, please no! Don’t tell me she’s gone. No, she’s too good. If she has to die, why not us too?!

“It means her heart stopped,” Noel blurted out.

No!

“She’s dead?!” Misha exclaimed.

Carolyn shook her head. “No! No. Constance is just fine. It happens sometimes during emergencies, but Constance is okay. They restarted her heartbeat as quickly as they could. Constance is alright.”

Noel shook as he looked down at his oatmeal.

“Noel, chéri, ne t'inquiète pas,” his mother said. She moved back to Ricky, taking a tray of syringes off the cart. “I have your medications. Ricky, this includes your regulars.” Carolyn had Ricky lift up his gown and allowed him to take over. He was more than capable of administering his own medication through his feeding tube. All she had to do was give him the syringes and water to clean out the tube. She kept an eye on him as she took back each syringe. “I'm going to give you all a dose of painkillers,” she explained as she prepared another syringe. “This stuff can be very potent. You may begin to feel loopy. This is completely normal.” Ricky felt himself relax just a bit as Carolyn gently took his hand and held it so she could access the port into his wrist. She injected a couple of medications into the port on Ricky's arm. Ricky almost instantly felt his body and mind blur. It wasn't fully relaxing yet, but his right side was no longer burning.

She moved on to Noel rather quickly, kissing his hand before she administered the drug. “Remember you all have call buttons. If you need a single thing from me, I will be here in an instant.” Ricky smiled at her, face turning redder in a nicer way than before. When Carolyn stood up to give Misha his medication, Noel glared at Ricky.

Misha jerked his arm away from her touch, staring at her with glassy eyes. “Misha, you need to let me do this,” Carolyn said softly. “Your arm feels sore, right?” He nodded, frowning deeply at her. “That's because your painkillers are wearing off. If you don't let me give you this soon, it's going to hurt a lot worse.” She slowly reached to take his hand, but he pulled away.

“Ain't no way you're touching me!” Misha shouted defensively. Noel and Ricky flinched, causing their ribs to flare a bit. They had always known Misha as temperamental, but never had he gotten ticked off so quickly. “Let me do it!”

“I cannot let you do that, Misha,” Carolyn told him. She pulled the syringe back before he could reach for it. “I have to be the one-”

“You let Ricky do his!” Misha said, pointing at the teen in question.

Carolyn nodded. “I let Ricky take his routine medication. He is more than capable of taking that, but I gave him the painkiller.” She held up the syringe. “This is the good stuff. I have to give it to you.”

“Bullshit. I can do it myself. It cannot be hard,” Misha insisted.

Noel spoke up, hoping to get through to the Ukrainian. “Hey, just let her do it.”

Carolyn shot Noel a look to keep him in check but nodded to Misha. “I know what I am doing. I have been here for years. I won't hurt you.”

Misha stared at her, examining her eyes. They were, Misha noted, the exact same dark brown as Noel's. They were similar to another pair he remembered well. Turning his head to the other side, Misha held out his arm. “Be quick.”

“Thank you,” Carolyn said, carefully aligning the syringe with the port. “This will make you feel way better.”

While she was focused on Misha, Ricky looked over at Noel, making a motion with his head. Noel blinked and raised an eyebrow. Ricky slowly repeated the gesture, his good hand on his neck. His head lolled to the side, and he rolled his eyes back.

The girl without a head? Savannah? Jane Doe? Ask about her. Ask what happened to her. I have to know. Is she still alive? Is her neck broken? I saw her hit her head. Is she awake?

Noel’s eyebrows furrowed, seeing the sudden distress on Ricky’s face. Before Noel could voice his concern, it hit him.

“Maman,” Noel said, looking up. “What about Jane Doe… Is she okay?”

Carolyn finished with Misha's meds. She almost instinctively squeezed his hand, but he yanked his good arm back. She put up her hands and backed up. Once she processed the question, the nurse suddenly smiled. “Oh, yes! Father Markus came in early this morning.” She looked back over at Misha for a second and then at Ricky. Ricky leaned in. “He was able to tell us exactly who she is. Her name is Penny. Penny Lamb.” Ricky’s eyes lit up and immediately started shining. He dropped his spoon and placed one hand over his mouth. Noel sighed, clutching at his heart. Misha gasped, eyebrows creased. “Woah, hey, it’s okay!”

“Father Markus is alive?!” Noel blurted out.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t he be?” Carolyn asked, giving him a look of confusion and concern.

“We’re horrible,” Misha muttered. With the painkillers acting fast, his rage gave way to something more tender. He sniffed and cast his eyes down. “We should have known.”

Noel nodded. “She was in the choir with us. We rehearsed together. We sang together. How did we never ask her name?”

Her name is Penny. I want to see Penny! Penny Lamb, Penny Lamb, Penny Lamb. I can never forget it. That’s the perfect name for such a cute and innocent girl. Penny, poor thing, where is she? What’s happening to her?!

Wanting to solidify it, Ricky almost opened his mouth to speak. Maybe it was just the drugs, but something told Ricky he'd be able to say it. Nothing more than a little breath came out. He tried again, but only made a pathetic popping noise.

NO! Let me say it! I want to say her name! I want to say anything! Let me say something, please! For the love of Zolar, let me say something!

Ricky burst into tears, silently sobbing into their hand.

Noel and Misha frowned even more deeply. “Oh!” Carolyn gasped, rushing around to the left side of Ricky’s bed. They didn’t respond when she pulled them into her side, hushing them. “Hey, hey, shh…” She rested a hand on Ricky’s head and cradled them. “She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay.” She rubbed Ricky’s arm and looked up at the others. “Hey, shh. None of this is your fault. Okay? None of it. You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have stopped it. You’re not horrible people for not knowing her name. You would have asked sooner or later. Shh… You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Ricky turned their head and cried into her shirt. They wanted to scream and beg to see her. They wanted to run to her side and apologize. He wanted to ask if she’d be okay. They wanted to tell Carolyn never to let go and just keep making them feel warm and safe. Noel and Misha gazed longingly at them, wanting to get up and join the hug. Their bodies, despite the drugs, were aching far too badly to move. Luckily, Carolyn had no intention of moving. She sat there, holding Ricky close as they sobbed, trapped with loud thoughts and nothing more than rough gasps.

Chapter Text

17 September 2009

Ocean was trapped, frozen. She could hear the doctors talking about her, only semi-aware of things. All she knew was that her whole body ached like mad, but simultaneously, she was strikingly numb. Ocean lay there, helpless.

From what Ocean gathered, she had at least four cracked ribs. Her forearms were both fractured and bound in itchy, sweaty casts. Her head was constantly pounding. She was fairly certain two days had passed since the accident. Something tight and painful was on her nose - a brace of some kind. She had a cannula blowing air into her nose. It was cold and she wanted to adjust to it, but she was paralyzed, unable to even cry.

Ocean had heard Nurse Gruber, Noel’s mom, come in a few times. She’d spoken to her, telling her a few details about the others. Ricky, Noel, and Misha were together. All three were awake and alive. Thank God! Constance was unconscious like her. She hoped Constance couldn't feel so much pain. All Ocean knew was that none of her injuries should lead to death.

Father Markus had come in that morning to visit the choir. He had apparently left the boys to sleep. The man took her hand, praying for her. The man had stroked her hair. Pain had flared in her head, but the warm feeling his gentle touch gave her far overshadowed it. Before he left, he told her, “Stay strong, Ocean. I’ll be back.”

Ms. Gruber frequently visited, too. Every day, she would sit and hold Ocean’s hand, just for a minute. She was usually silent, save for a sniffle or a quiet “Tu vas bien. Tout ira bien, petite fille géniale.” Ocean had no clue what it meant, but just hearing the words made her feel better.

Her parents had yet to arrive.

Ocean had so much to atone for. She knew she was already serving her sentence for her words and actions. Here she was, paralyzed entirely. Was this how Ricky felt, able to hear everything around him but trapped by silence? Everyone talked about her like she wasn’t there. Ms. Gruber was the only one who referred to her in the second person. Ocean felt like an object, an artifact. Yes, they cared for her and wanted to protect her. And yet, they didn’t care for her personally. She was a precious stone to be admired but not loved. She was isolated and already thought she’d lose her mind from the constant silence.

The worst part of the experience was being fed. Ocean couldn’t do jack shit for herself. She couldn’t even chew and swallow at the moment. As she heard the door open again, she braced herself for the third most unpleasant experience of her lifetime. The first was spinning out of control and dying. The second was crashing into the wall . The third was her tube-feeding.

Ocean felt hands in front of her face. She wanted to wave them off and feed herself. She wanted to eat and not be fed. Instead, she felt the vibrations and slight change in temperature and pressure as she was fed through a tube in her nose.

She had to apologize to Ricky. She never knew what this was like. What kind of a sick bitch was she to make fun of him for something like this? She hated it! This was humiliating! Was this what his life felt like? How had he survived this long? How was Ricky not insane? How was he such a sweet and happy person even when subjected to this kind of silence and negligence? How could she treat him like this?

Ocean felt the tube in her nose and throat and wanted to scream. How could she tease Ricky for this torture? She’d even seen him eat. She’d seen him read and write. What kind of a friend was she? She was no friend. She had no friends.

That was scary.

Here she was, back alive, with nobody to show her love except her enemy’s mother and her teacher. Misha himself had said that she was not close to them. Noel said he’d never vote for her. Constance had punched her, and she’d deserved it! Ocean would be lucky if Ricky didn’t hate her guts. She’d called Jane a monster. Ocean was the monster.

Where were her parents? Why weren’t they here? Had something happened to them? Did they not care? Did they really not love her enough to come check on her? Had they at least come to sign papers? Had they visited her while she was unconscious? Did they even know? Were they too high to travel here? Were they too high to notice?

Ocean felt hands in front of her face and an uncomfortable jolt. The feeding was over. She’d rather just die than go through that again.

At least if she died, she wouldn’t be in pain. Maybe she wouldn’t be alone. She was so alone in life.

Her parents didn’t care whether she was alive.

It’s not like Jane cared who she was.

Noel surely wanted her dead.

Misha would laugh if she died after all of this.

Ricky would obviously be glad if she were gone.

Constance deserved a better best friend- maybe Ocean’s death would be the best thing to ever happen to her.

Ocean let those thoughts swirl, scaring her. She hoped she died. That way, she could avoid all the confrontation and just go to Hell like she deserved. It was inevitable. Why deny it? Why delay it?

Maybe she had died after all and was in Hell. This seemed like a fitting punishment. This was her contrapasso.

Ocean lay there as the doctors left, leaving her alone with her thoughts, numb but in pain, and wishing she could so much as open her eyes.

___

18 September 2009

Misha knew that he was alone in this.

He’d been alone since the day he moved to Canada, never to see his mother again. In the basement, he’d been alone. In school, he’d been alone. In choir, he’d been alone. The only one who had made him feel less alone was Talya. Talya was his rock. He could always just turn on his phone and be with her. He could always just reach out, and she’d talk to him.

His phone had gone missing in the accident and was undoubtedly destroyed. He hadn’t spoken to Talya in four days, and it was killing him.

Today, he was scheduled to go into surgery and have some sort of bracket placed in his arm. The bones were more damaged than they had initially seemed, and the doctors wanted to ensure they healed properly. Misha was alone in a room, hooked up to a few machines in preparation for the surgery.

One of the male nurses had allowed Misha to log into Facebook on his laptop and given Misha time to reach out to Talya while he waited. He struggled to switch the keyboard into Ukrainian. Misha read the last few messages, his heart breaking. Talya had sent several messages. Some said things along the lines of, “Good morning, my love. How are you feeling?” Then some said, “Why haven't you been responding? Please talk to me, Misha.” They developed into themes of, “What have I done wrong? Why are you not talking to me?” Some recent ones asked, “Why are you ignoring me? What is the matter?” The most recent ones simply expressed, “If you do not love me anymore, just say so. Then we can both move on.”

Misha hurriedly messaged Talya. He could only move so fast with one hand. Now more than ever before, Misha was grateful that he was ambidextrous.

[My Talya. I am so sorry for not being here the past few days.]

He sent it, not thinking for too long about what he’d say next. He took a deep breath and started typing out a long explanation and apology, but Talya's response made him instantly delete it all.

[Why have you not spoken to me in days? It is unlike you. I assumed you were upset?]

Misha bit back tears. He was upset. He was very upset. He might lose his arm, his so-called parents had all but abandoned him, and his fiancée sounded displeased with him. Misha quickly typed out a response.

[Yes. I am upset. There is too much right now.]

[Is that why you have been ignoring me? You have not read my messages until now.]

Misha’s heart twisted.

[It is not you, if that is your concern. It is something happening here. There was an accident. I have had much to deal with.]

Misha waited for her response. She wouldn’t think that was a lame answer, would she? He didn’t sound like he was making excuses?

[An accident? What kind? Were you hit by a car?]

[No. It was a ride at the fair. Things went very wrong.]

How could he tell her all that happened? Should he tell her everything? How could he tell her he had died? He couldn't. She would think he was mad.

[Tell me. What went wrong? I want to help, my love.]

Misha felt tears prick his eyes. He couldn't. If the nurses saw, he'd be deemed mentally ill. Hell, Talya would deem him mentally ill. He couldn't be. He had to put on his armor for the sake of the others. They needed one another.

[You can do nothing. I am a legal adult and must work through this on my own.]

[You should at least tell me.]

[I cannot.]

[Why?]

[It is not the kind of thing you need to know. It is between my friends and I. You did not share this experience. You do not understand.]

[What do I not understand?]

[Anything. You do not know what I just went through. My friends were in the accident. They need me. What I need is them.]

[Can you at least tell me that we are okay? I was worried you wanted to end our engagement. Are you still coming back to Ukraine?]

All the way to Ukraine? Misha wanted to shudder. His body was in so much pain. He could barely get up to use the bathroom on his own. He couldn't imagine traveling any time soon. It would take months for all his bones to heal. It would take months to be able to go a day without Ricky and Noel, who had been his everything the last few days. They were the only people who he could reach out to. He'd been trying to speak with Ricky the past few days, wanting to distract them both from the pain and rage.

[I am not sure. My world is in my friends. I cannot leave them. I cannot fathom leaving them.]

Imagining waking up without Ricky and Noel was scary. How else would he know they were alright? He had to talk to them.

Misha had wanted so badly to talk to Talya again. But now that he was here, doing just that, he felt no passion. He felt no love coursing through his veins to get him through the day so he could speak with her. He just felt rage at Canada, Uranium, the Fall Fair, and his useless arm. He felt rage for knowing the girls were not awake. He felt rage for knowing Ricky and Noel were in pain. He felt passion when he was with them, trying to distract himself from the agony in his arm. She deserved passion, not rage.

Misha clenched his teeth as tears rolled down his face. No matter how much he wanted to, he could not conjure his love for Talya. Everything in him was rage except for this nagging worry about his friends. There was too much pain.

[Do you no longer wish to marry me? I would understand. It sounds like your life is in Canada. How complicated that life is now…]

Misha didn't know where the words were coming from, but they were the only ones that felt right.

[I am sorry, Talya. I have to worry about my life. I have to worry about my friends. I have to worry about my arm. I just cannot do this for you. It may be best to end our engagement. I am not ready for you, Talya. I am sorry.]

For a while, he received no response. Misha felt tears roll down his face. How could he let Talya go? He loved her. But how could he keep her? His life had fallen apart, and he didn’t even know how he would manage his healing process. He had to be there for Ricky and Noel. He had to be there when Constance, Ocean, and Penny woke up. With their lives so weakly back in their grasp, the future was the last thing he was worrying about.

Talya’s response finally arrived. Despite being the one to suggest this, Misha felt his heart break in two.

[I was beginning to consider it. I am not the most important thing in your life. You are. Any friends you have with you are. Especially if they are hurting. Just know, I will always love you, Mikhail Bachynskyi. You will always have a special place in my heart. Care for yourself. Talk to me when you can.]

Misha sobbed as he sent his last message.

[I will speak with you again one day. I promise that… Do not be afraid to move on, Sunflower. If there is someone you find who cares for you in the way I could not, fall into his arms. Do not wait for a man who is too broken. You deserve a man who can be there for you. Goodbye, Sunflower.]

Without waiting for a response, Misha shut the laptop and pushed it onto the bedside counter. He would have punched the wall or his bed if it weren’t for the IV tube in his arm. Instead, he brought his good hand to his mouth and cried out into it. His face scrunched up as he let out one shout after another. Some were just cries, others curses in various languages. Tears spilled out of his eyes and rolled down the front of his neck. Misha stopped shouting and tangled his left hand in his sweaty, greasy hair. The angry boy gripped it and pulled, wishing he could just get up and walk away without harm to himself. His face was red as he bawled like a newborn. He did not care. He spent at least ten minutes like this before he heard a knock at the door.

Misha instantly released his hair and scrubbed away his tears. The nurse from earlier came in to grab his laptop. There was talking. Misha nodded along, trying to understand what they were saying about the procedure. He knew the jist. Miss Carolyn had explained the surgery earlier. Besides, he couldn’t object. He had no other choice than to possibly lose his arm. All he knew for certain was that, even with this operation, his hand and arm would never be the same. They’d always be weak and hurt easily. He was going to be disabled for life. It didn't matter. He didn’t have Talya or a future. All that mattered was getting this over with so he could be with Noel and Ricky again.

Another nurse slipped something into Misha’s IV drip bag. He was suddenly madly nervous at the thought of them cutting open and drilling his arm.

Then, he was struck with a wave of pure terror.

Total darkness, spinning black. Pushing forward, pulling back.

Misha’s body completely relaxed, but his mind was thrown into a complete, wild panic in the split second before he lost all ability to think.

Chapter Text

21 September 2009

When Constance finally came to consciousness, she was frozen in pain. She tried to scream, but it only resulted in a weak whine. There was something on her nose, making it itch. She wanted to pull it off, but her arms were too heavy to lift. Something was covering them, too. She whined again, her face shifting in discomfort. She felt something sitting on her lip. Constance managed to force her eyes open. Her eyes flickered everywhere. She wasn’t in the warehouse anymore, nor on the Cyclone. She was in a bright room, with machines beeping and pecking at her skull. Everything was slightly out of focus. She didn’t have her glasses. Where were her glasses? Why did certain spots on her face feel like they were being pulled? It felt like when she gets paint on her skin and moving makes it wrinkle and tug. She glanced down and saw some sort of tube connected to her arm. There was something else on her arm as well. Something white with scribbles. She whined again, realizing her lips were also tugging at themselves.

There was a soft click and then creaking. Someone tall, presumably a nurse, was standing there. He looked up from what must have been a clipboard and froze at the sight of Constance. He gasped, dropping the clipboard.

“Helllp,” Constance managed to mumble. He put up a hand to her and backed out the door.

“Dr. LeBlanc,” he said. He suddenly started breathing heavily and turned out of the room and walked out of view. “Dr. LeBlanc! Any doctor?!”

Constance heard footsteps thundering down the hall. She felt some relief wash through her as she saw a few other people enter the room.

She was alive! She was hurting and getting help, and wasn’t that beautiful? She was alive, and she’d fucking make it, because there was no way she was letting go of this second chance!

___

Constance was sitting up now, her arms held in slings over her chest. She looked up at the sound of footsteps, smiling when she heard the voice before the door even opened.

“Cece! My sweet girl, you’re awake, you’re okay!” her mother said as she ran in. She pushed up her own round glasses as she landed in the chair next to Constance. Her hands flew up to her face but stopped suddenly, worried she’d hurt her. Her hands shook like moths fluttering around. She clasped them over her mouth, starting to sob. Her brown eyes welled up with tears that poured over so suddenly. Constance wanted to reach out to her, but she was trapped in her slings.

“Mom…” She said weakly. Her lips were a little busted up, and she didn’t want to make them bleed. She tried to smile more with her eyes, even though she couldn’t see her well. What she could see was that her mother’s hair was down instead of in the two braids she always kept them in. Constance could only imagine how stressed she’d been.

“Darlene!” Her father gasped as he rushed in. He froze when he saw Constance, hands clutching the strap of a purse. He was only frozen a second before he ran to the other side of her, starting to cry himself. “Constance, Cece, you are awake.”

“Duh,” she said. She wanted to make a joke about the hospital not pranking them, but her lips were too sore. She just tried to smile. She instantly teared up, wanting to throw her arms around her father and hug him.

“I have your spare glasses. Do you want them?” her father asked.

“Mhm!”

His hands dove instantly into the purse, grabbing a case and popping it open. His touch was gentle as he slipped Constance’s glasses onto her face. His smile was shaky as her vision focused on him. His dark skin shone with sweat as though he’d run here from Uranium. He sighed when her eyes fully focused on him. She grinned. “Daddy…”

His resolve broke, and he gripped the rails of her bed, bowing his head as he started crying. “Cece, we thought we were gonna lose you. We really thought we were gonna lose you…”

They had. For a long while there, they had. Constance promised to thank Karnak properly the first chance she got.

“I’m here,” she said, voice shaking. She turned to her mother. She looked far paler than she ever had before. Her skin bordered on the color of snow. No, not quite. Eggshells, cream, vanilla bean? All those colors were beautiful, even on the face of her sobbing mother. “Mommy…”

Her mother started sobbing all over again, face starting to turn pink like strawberry ice cream, then red like apples, no, not quite. Cherries? What was red but not bright red but not pink? Wait, where was-

“Where’s Wesley?”

“Wes is at home. We have a sitter,” her mother explained. “We didn’t know if you’d want a toddler here yet.” Constance frowned. “We’ll bring him next time, okay?”

“Mhm!” Constance said with a nod. She wanted to cuddle her baby brother. She needed to hear him laugh.

She looked down at the casts on her arms, now able to see the scribbles adorning them. “We love you, Cece,” was in each of her parents’ writing on each of her forearms. “Get well soon, Connie,” was near her right elbow, signed by Cari. Both of them were dotted with little hearts that were completely messy. They must have let Wesley visit once before.

“Cece, our little girl,” her mother said, slowly lifting one hand to touch her poofy hair. It was an absolute mess. She’d need help washing it soon. Constance leaned into the touch, so her mother gently ran her fingers over it, careful not to tug for even a second. She cooed, smiling softly. “You’re so strong. I knew you’d make it.”

“We could have lost you,” her father sobbed, putting one hand tentatively on her shoulder. When she made no move, indicating it hurt, he squeezed slowly. “Cece, I’m so glad you’re alive!”

“Me too,” Constance said, trying to smile even as tears started running down her face. She tried to hold it back, not wanting her nose to stuff up when she had a brace and cannula on. “I’m so happy…”

That’s right. Constance Blackwood, the girl with two broken wrists, a smashed nose, busted lips, facial scars she shouldn’t even face yet, at least five broken ribs, and a fractured skull, was happy. The happiest she’d ever been, in fact! Why? Because she was fucking alive , and her parents, whom she loved and appreciated now more than ever, were here, crying because they were so grateful for her survival. She took a breath and pictured that sunset she’d seen before they died. How could she hate a world with sunsets like that?

How could she hate parents like these? Her chest felt tighter all of a sudden, and not due to her aching ribs. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, looking between her parents.  How could they be so sweet to her after her actions? How were they not leaving her here to suffer as a consequence? “‘M so sorry.”

“For what?!” Constance’s mother nearly shouted, backing away and looking down in shock. “What could you be sorry for?!”

“I was so, so mean,” Constance said, starting to fight against the pain of her lips. Oh, they were going to scar. She was going to be a horrid mess when all was said and done. “I was mean to you.”

“No, Cece,” her father said, his voice low and soft. He leaned closer, his braids falling past his ears. “Cece, you don’t have to apologize.”

“I was bad,” she said, gasping at the pain it caused. “I was so bad. I’m sorry.”

“Shh, Cece,” her father started. She stopped him.

“I acted like I hated you,” she said, feeling the tug at her lips. “I don’!”

“We know that!” Her mother used her other hand to gingerly take Constance’s fingertips. She squeezed them gently. “We know that, honey…”

“I- I’m sorry,” Constance said. “I don’ hate you.”

Her father shook his head, rubbing her fingertips in a comforting manner. “Cece, you’re a teenager. We all hate Uranium and our school and our parents when we’re teenagers. It’s a rite of passage.”

“I love you,” Constance insisted. “I love you. I love you. I- I-”

“Shh,” her parents said, squeezing her fingers to calm her down.

“We know,” her mother said. “And we love you. So, so, so much, Cece.”

“More than you’ll ever know, our sweet little girl,” her father whispered.

Her mother nodded. “Our crazy, special, unique, messy, living girl,” Constance’s mother said. She sniffed and bowed her head as if hiding her tears would do any service at this point.

Constance blinked away her own tears. “It hurts.”

“Yeah, I bet,” her father said, rubbing his fingers over her shoulder. “That must have been a hell of a ride.”

“It was rad,” Constance said, smiling at him. Her parents laughed in spite of it all, making her heart soar. She needed laughter. It reminded her of that rush , that exhilaration. It reminded her of the fun she’d had dancing with her friends and- “The others,” she mumbled rather loudly. She probably sounded high. “Where are they? Are they okay? What about them?”

“Shh,” her father said, soothingly “They’re okay. They’re okay.”

“Really?!”

“They’re alive,” her mother said. “We can’t know the details, but they’re alive. Carolyn is taking care of the boys.” Constance was relieved to know that a trustworthy friend would be with them. “Ocean is alive. We’ve heard talk about that Penny girl. She hasn’t woken up either, but she’s alive.” Constance felt relief wash over her, strong enough to ward off the pain.

Constance could accept that for now. She’d have to see the boys as soon as she could talk without feeling like her lips would tear. “Are my scars bad?”

Her parents looked up at one another, frowning. She felt dread crash over her like cold water. That wasn’t actually too bad. It reminded her of pools, playing in the snow, and eating ice cream.

“Um… You’re definitely gonna have scars,” Constance's mother said. She stared at her daughter's lips and forehead. “Yep… Those aren’t going away…”

“Do I look badass?”

Her parents’ laughter rang through the room. They looked back at her with bright smiles.

“That’s our girl,” her father said. “You absolutely look badass.”

Constance laughed a bit, even though her ribs whined in pain. She disregarded them. They’d heal. She’d survive. No. She’d fucking live .

Chapter Text

23 September 2009

Sometime in the middle of the night, Misha, Noel, and Ricky woke up to the sound of shrill screaming. They all startled, disturbing their sore bones. Each of them gasped and groaned at the sudden pain they caused themselves. Noel clutched at his own hospital gown, trying to distract himself from the pain as it receded. Misha started throwing out curses in something that wasn’t English, using his good arm to grip the rail of his bed. Ricky started breathing heavily, his left hand gripping the bed sheets as he stared at nothing.

The three exchanged looks as they heard the screaming continue, but they couldn’t make out what was being said. They heard a door shut suddenly, and other voices suddenly got loud. Footsteps rushed past, hushed voices following.

Noel, suddenly too aware of how dark the room was, reached and grabbed the television remote on his commode. He flicked it on to something random, just wanting the light. Misha groaned, shielding his eyes. Noel dropped the remote in his lap, not even caring what channel was on.

“What is the fuss?” Misha asked, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the other two as if they would know better than him.

Noel shrugged. “It’s a hospital, Misha. Things are bound to happen. I’m surprised we don’t hear stuff like that more often.”

“Is the middle of the night,” Misha whined.

Noel glared. “Emergencies don’t have hours of business.” There was some shuffling from Ricky’s bed. Noel took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “They could have been in a crash just like us.” Something in the room fell or clicked. Ricky made a whimpering noise. Noel turned to look at him, only semi-clearly seeing Ricky’s face in the light of the television. “What’s up?”

Ricky made some motion with his good arm, one that Noel and Misha had no way of comprehending. It seemed to be a dramatic point, followed by gesturing to his own open mouth. He made a feeble grunting sound that made Noel and Misha squirm. Then, he made some sort of curving up-down motion with his hand.

“Ricky, you’re going to have to write it down,” Noel said. Ricky’s face pulled in frustration and sadness. Noel sighed. “I’m sorry. We can’t understand what all this means,” Noel defended, badly copying the gesture.

Ricky groaned weakly and reached to grab the notepad on his bedside, followed by a pen. He started scribbling down some words, but the action was taking him time. He huffed and gripped the pen tightly before giving up and throwing it at his feet. The pen fell off the bed. That was odd. Noel hadn’t seen Ricky lose his composure even that much in ages, if ever.

“Woah,” Misha said, putting one hand up. He glanced at Noel with an eyebrow raised. Noel frowned and looked back at Ricky, who was now starting to breathe hard and tug at his hair. “Woah, Zirka… There is no rush. Calm down. Zirka…”

“Hey, hey, Ricky,” Noel said, reaching a hand out uselessly. “Hey, don’t pull-”

Outside, his mother’s voice interrupted him. “Well– figure something out because her parents are useless!” She then opened the door, looking frazzled and worried. She quickly rushed over to Ricky, sitting at his bedside. “Hey. Hey, I got your call. What’s wrong? What do you need?”

Noel wondered why his mother would just be rushing in out of nowhere to talk to Ricky. How did she know he was upset? Why would she even be awake right now? That’s when Noel’s eyes widened. Ricky must have pressed the call button. Suddenly, Noel felt like an utterly useless friend. He watched as his mother took Ricky’s hand and held it so he couldn’t hurt himself. She spoke to him so softly that even he couldn’t hear. Ricky nodded along to whatever it was she was saying and started breathing very deliberately.

Through the door, Noel could hear people rushing back and forth. They were talking frantically about a female patient in another room. At some point, he could hear the same voice screaming, shouting, and resisting if her tone was any indicator. Noel looked back at Misha, who just half shrugged. He leaned back, looking over at Misha. “That person sounds like they’re in a lot of pain,” he said softly. “I hope they’re okay.”

Misha hummed, leaning back. He looked past Noel and to Ricky, who was slowly calming down. Frowning deeply, he wished he could have done the same to help him. But here he was, watching quietly. “They do not sound like it.”

Ricky looked over at them, evidently hearing. He pulled his hand back from Carolyn, evidently composed enough to write now. He felt around his lap and groaned again. Misha and Noel resisted the urge to cringe at the sound. When Ricky made vocal sounds, it almost seemed like the sound itself was thinning and shredding. It fell off awkwardly at the end, quiet and fragile.

Noel stared at the floor. He rarely heard Ricky make those sounds growing up. After his voice gave out, Ricky just kind of kept to himself. Some part of Noel had preferred to believe Ricky wanted it that way. He could never have predicted that Ricky would be so talkative. These sounds were like a weak, dying version of the voice Ricky had been given in the warehouse. Maybe that was the point. Noel realized, pang after pang, that Ricky was trying to talk to them now in every way he could. And none of it made sense to Noel. Noel couldn’t comprehend what Ricky’s wild gestures translated to or what those horrible, sick grunts meant.

“Here, I think this is yours,” Carolyn said, bending over and picking up Ricky’s pen. She handed it to him, and he frantically started writing, the scratching of his pen audible even to Misha. “Don’t rush, hey…” Noel jumped at the feeling of something hitting his lap. He winced at the pain it caused his back and ribs. Noel looked down at the notepad Ricky had apparently thrown at him. “Hey, Ricky,” Carolyn said. “You can’t-”

Noel lifted the notepad and read aloud so Misha could hear, “'The scream is Ocean.'” His eyes widened and flickered over to the imaginative boy. “Ocean? You really think?!”

Ricky nodded, pointing to himself and then firmly at his head. That much Noel could put together. I know .

Noel looked up at his mother, who hurriedly got up and picked up the notepad. “I’m not allowed to disclose information about other patients.”

“We heard you before you came in,” Misha pointed out as if it was some sort of victory over her. “You said her parents are useless. You are talking about her deadbeat parents.” Carolyn looked at Misha quizzically. “We know all about them.”

“You do not know all about them,” Carolyn insisted. She handed the notepad back to Ricky. “I promise you that.”

“So they are Ocean’s parents. That is Ocean,” Noel said. He looked at her. “Ocean’s awake!? Is she okay? Why is she screaming?!”

“That isn’t- You can’t- I’m not-” Carolyn groaned and pushed her hair back. “Yes, she’s awake. She’s far from happy, from what her nurses have told me. I’m not telling you more. I can’t without her permission.” Noel and Misha looked at her, eyes blown wide. She sighed and went over to Noel. “She’s being taken care of. I’ll update you when I can. For now, try not to worry. Okay? She’s safe here.” She pushed Noel’s hair back and pressed her lips to his forehead. “I love you. Get back to sleep.”

Misha’s eyes darkened as he watched Carolyn, but he didn’t fight her. He just sat back, listening to the distant screams of Ocean and the raised voices of doctors and nurses. Her screams almost sent him back. If they’d sounded any clearer, they might have. Her voice was the very first to stop laughing and cheering in the thrill and start calling out for help.

Carolyn went over and gave Ricky a quick hug, whispering something to him. He nodded in response. She reached for Noel. “Here, let me turn off the-”

“No!” Noel almost shouted. His mother jerked her arm back. He took a sharp breath and shook his head. “No… Is it okay if we keep it playing?”

“Oh... Okay. Why?” Carolyn asked.

Misha was the one to say, “It helps us sleep.”

Carolyn slowly nodded, pulling back. “Alright… Okay. That makes sense. Do any of you want your privacy curtains drawn?”

“No thank you, ma’am.”

“Nope.”

Ricky shook his head and grunted something like a weak, “Nu-uh.” Noel stopped himself from wincing.

They hadn’t had their curtains drawn to hide from one another since they got here. At this point, they had no privacy from one another. They knew each other’s deepest insecurities, secrets, hopes, thoughts, and dreams. Whether they liked it or not, they were closer to one another than anyone. Besides, they couldn’t communicate with Ricky if they were drawn.

“Alright… Goodnight, boys. I’ll be back in a few hours for breakfast.”

“Goodnight, mom.”

“Надобраніч.”

“Mhm…”

___

24 September 2009

Carolyn rubbed her temples, leaning back against the wall of the meeting room. “No, her parents know now. It only took three days to finally have authorities reach out to them,” she said, voice laced with venom. “Look, I know Cordelia O’Connell and Robert Rosenberg. They’re not coming. They shouldn’t, at the very least.”

“Why shouldn’t they come for their daughter?!” Nurse Natalie said. She gestured to the door, leaning on the desk. “She’s clearly distressed and in need of help. Short of necessary care, she won’t even let staff in the room. She’ll eat, go to the bathroom, and that’s it. Then she screams everyone out.”

Dr. Tremblay sighed loudly. “We are keeping someone on her camera at all times just to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. Who knows what’s going on with her? She could have damage that we missed. I'm certain she has damage we can't see. If she’d just let us help-”

“She’ll barely accept her pain medication,” Nurse David reminded them. “She’s entirely untrusting of us. If we can get her parents to come-”

“If someone is willing to drive them,” Carolyn said. She looked around at the rest of her team. “Natalie, they should be able to just come here and check on their daughter. That is the least they should do. Unfortunately, the O’Connell-Rosenbergs are some of the most horribly delusional people I have ever met. They cannot-”

“Nurse Gruber, be professional,” Dr. Tremblay scolded her. “Those are our patient’s parents.” Carolyn felt sharp disdain stab her from inside. She pursed her lips to hide the quip she planned on making. “She needs a support system.”

“She does! Which is why I say we don’t bother with Cordelia and Robert,” she spat. Carolyn waved a hand dramatically. “Those two are ‘hippies.’ They're druggies . They're not safe on the road.”

“Nurse Gruber-”

“It’s true! I live a few blocks from them. They hardly leave the house, and that’s a good thing. On a normal Tuesday, they are too intoxicated to safely drive to the grocery store!” Carolyn ranted. “Having them drive up here is a hazard to everyone around. I’m serious!”

The rest of the staff gawked at her, not familiar with the angry side of the nurse. She clenched her teeth, gazing back at them with fire behind her brown eyes. “Ocean needs a support system. I'd never argue that. What I'm arguing is that we'd be wasting our breath trying to bring her parents up here.”

David tilted his hand as he pondered that. “Okay, Carolyn, you really can’t-”

“It’s a small town. I watched that girl grow up with my son. I know,” she insisted. “I know more about most of those kids than any of you ever could.”

Dr. Tremblay took a step closer, one hand up. “That is part of the reason you are on this job. We really shouldn't be allowing it, but we know this is the only thing you'll be able to focus on for months. We trust your ability to focus your energy on providing the best care for those boys. However, if you can’t handle being close to this case-”

“Stop!” Carolyn shouted. “No matter what , I'll be close to this case. Noel isn’t the only one close to me!” She threw her hands out. “Constance Blackwood? Her parents are the closest thing I have to friends. Connie grew up with Noel. So did Ricky and Ocean. I have known those kids since they were born. Misha and Penny are friends of theirs– of course I care very deeply!” She inhaled sharply. “I know all of their parents, like it or not!”

“Nurse Gruber-”

“No! I can’t just ‘be professional’ here. I am an advocate for those kids as their nurse. As a mother, a friend, I can tell you that some of their parents aren’t worth shit as support,” Carolyn continued hotly. “Ocean needs an adult. She needs someone to help her. She needs someone to be there for her and help her calm down for two seconds. Neither of her parents can be that for her. They haven't shown up thus far. The only ones who have been here for their child as consistently as possible are the Blackwoods. None of the other parents have even shown up!”

“The Potts-”

“ Oh , don't even get me started on Susan and Allen Potts,” Carolyn said, her gaze suddenly dark. “They came once and refused to talk– even in an emergency!! Their son needs them, but they came up to do their dumb shit charades thing-”

“Carolyn,” Tremblay started, her face stern, “as a nurse, it is highly unprofessional of you to-”

“I am not saying this as a nurse!” Carolyn borderline screamed. Her voice just kept climbing in volume. “I am saying this as the mother of one of those children who almost fucking died! ” She stomped hard on each of the last few words.

Silence followed. The only sound in the room was her panting as she came down from her outburst. She straightened her back and looked at each of them. The other nurses and doctor stared at her in utter disbelief. She had never lost her cool like that at work. Nobody in this hospital but Noel had ever seen her that mad.

“I apologize. I don’t know what just came over me,” Carolyn apologized quietly, pushing her bangs back with her headband.

“What just came over you was a spurt of the most unprofessional and unacceptable behavior I have ever seen from you, Nurse Gruber.” Tremblay sighed, looking up at Carolyn. “Look, I understand. I have children of my own, remember.” She put a comforting hand on Carolyn’s shoulder. “I should fire you for that, but I won’t.”

Carolyn nodded in understanding.

“Look. Since you are familiar with Ocean personally, I will let you try to talk to her,” Tremblay decided. “I need you to behave as a professional. Keep yourself together, Nurse Gruber.”

The woman nodded, swallowing her long-simmering rage and locking it away again. “Understood.” Tremblay’s eyes shifted between disbelief and fright, searching Carolyn for some sign of anger or pain. Carolyn made sure she found none. “Let me talk to Ocean.”

___

SIX SAINTS SURVIVE CYCLONE COASTER CATASTROPHE

On Monday, September 14, northeastern Saskatchewan was struck with tragedy: the famous Cyclone Roller Coaster severely malfunctioned during the annual County Fair . According to witnesses, the cart did not slow down before returning to the beginning of the ride. Instead, it sped past the fair worker managing the ride at the time. (Other reports conclude that this worker was heavily intoxicated at the time of the incident.) The cart surprised the crowd once again by forsaking its previous path and derailing. The cart threw up sparks, then dust, then blood. Mothers shielded the eyes of their children, fair workers panicked, and onlookers screamed with the victims.

…

Whether coincidentally or not, the fair was also surprised by the unexpected short-circuiting and subsequent destruction of their novelty machine, The Amazing Karnak. Some residents of Uranium claim that this must be an omen, as the machine is infamous for the trauma it caused guests. Ages ago, Karnak was able to predict the hyper specific time, place, and cause of someone’s death. As this attraction began to unsettle guests and make children cry, it was temporarily shut down, only to return the following year with that feature disabled.

…

Further investigation traced the cause of the machine’s malfunction to a rat that had chewed through the chords. Concerns about safety and sanitation caused by the pests have further plunged the company into investigations and charges.

…

The victims were six choir members at the fair to perform for the Kiwanis International Singing Competition only one week into their senior year at St. Cassian’s High School. Each student was seventeen, save for one member who had only recently entered legal adulthood. Their names are Ocean O’Connell-Rosenberg, Noel Gruber, Micheal Bashinksi, Richard Potts, Constance Blackwood, and Penny Lamb. The victims’ parents have either been expertly avoiding questions or have blatantly rejected attempts of the press to reach out. Upon visiting the hospital, reporters were turned away by the front desk, security, and one particularly volatile nurse.

…

The fair was officially shut down tonight and is under investigation for criminal negligence. From the roller coaster malfunction to the rat infestation, there are likely enough charges to permanently shut down the fair. However, the families of the victims have not, as of yet, pursued legal action against the fair.

…

Let us all pray for the victims, their recovery, and their worried families.

Chapter Text

25 September 2009

Misha hated hearing the screams of his friends. The more he listened, the more undeniable the fact that the screams belonged to Ocean. She didn’t even seem to be in pain. She was just angry. The screams were infrequent, and by the tone of them were probably threats. They never lasted for more than a minute or so. Misha wished with all his heart that he could go find her, but he had no way to. The hospital wouldn’t let him. Every time she started yelling, he just stared at the other two. Ricky would just stare at the door, occasionally making weak sounds as if they'd ever reach her ears. Noel had shed a few tears during her screaming fits, but Misha never pointed them out. All Misha could do was attempt to distract him after the sounds stopped. All any of them could do was commiserate in silence.

As Carolyn was wrapping up a routine check-in with them, Noel finally asked. “Is Ocean okay?”

Carolyn froze, her back towards the boys. Ricky and Misha tried to sit up more, eager to hear news. Carolyn finally turned back to them. “She definitely still has her spirit.”

“We’ve heard,” Misha said. “Why does she scream like this? Is she hurting?”

Carolyn took a deep breath and shook her head. “Not exactly. Ocean is just being, um, difficult.”

“Ocean being difficult. That’s a good sign, right?” Noel said, semi-jokingly. He smirked at his mother, who only averted her eyes. “What? She’s normally like that.” Well, she wasn’t normally a screamer, but she was normally very difficult to reason with.

Ricky grabbed the notepad from his bedside and started scribbling quickly. Misha thanked, far from the first time, that Ricky’s writing hand had been spared so they still had some way of talking to him. Ricky had a lot to say. Since they’d come back, he seemed to be keeping it in. Misha appreciated when he actually wrote down his thoughts. Noel and Carolyn either didn’t notice or didn’t react to the action, as they kept talking.

“She’s not being very compliant with the staff. She won’t even let me talk to her. I tried, and she called me a… Well I’m not sure what she said. I think it was German? A spill- spiel-burger??” Carolyn’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “She was yelling and talking quickly-”

“She called you a ‘Spielverderber,’” Noel said. His mother nodded, trying to process the word. Noel started snickering in spite of it all. That only did more to assure him that Ocean would be just fine. She was being an uncooperative bitch.

“What does that even mean?” Carolyn asked.

“In short, it means party-pooper,” Misha explained, breaking into a smile himself. “Though, knowing what we do about Germany, that may be a good thing. It sure sounds like Ocean.” He started laughing, despite the discomfort it caused throughout his whole chest.

“So she’s having a power struggle? Again, coming from Ocean, that should be a good thing,” Noel said. He tried to laugh, breaths shallow. His mother sat next to him, frowning deeply. She gently pushed him to lean forward and put her stethoscope in her ears.

“Breathe slowly,” she commanded, closing her eyes to listen closely. She let Noel lean back again and started checking from the front. Her expression softened and she pulled back. “Please, relax, fils.”

“I am, Maman,” Noel insisted.

Misha noticed Ricky reaching out for the two, but they didn’t see him. He made eye contact with Ricky, who gestured to Carolyn. “Ah, Mrs. Gruber?” Misha spoke up, finally getting her attention off her son. Noel frowned at him.

“Ms. Gruber,” Carolyn corrected with a frown. She looked at him. “What is it, Misha?”

“Ah, Ricky is trying to get your attention,” Misha pointed out.

“Oh! Ricky, sweetie, I’m sorry,” she said, turning back to him. He smiled at her like he wasn’t upset at all. Odd. He always got annoyed when Ocean or a teacher called him “sweetie.” Carolyn took the notepad from him.

She started reading silently, but Ricky tapped it and pointed to Misha and Noel.

“Oh, do you want them to hear too?”

Ricky nodded, making an affirmative humming noise.

Carolyn held up the notepad, starting to read out loud. “‘After what we just went through, it’s no surprise Ocean is in a lot of distress. She was probably in a lot of pain. More likely than not, she’s been semi-conscious this whole time. Seeing as there’s a privacy policy, the nurses probably haven’t answered her questions. Knowing Ocean, she’s probably hysterical and needs an outlet. The three of us have had each other. She doesn’t have any friends with her. Knowing her parents, they haven’t been here for her either.’” Carolyn hummed in agreement, and Misha cocked his eyebrows. “‘She needs someone to talk to. We all know she won’t open up to adults.’” Carolyn looked up from the writing and stared at Ricky for a moment. He took back his notepad, blushing a bit under the nurse’s gaze. He shrugged, pulling the pad to his chest, his cast being a bit of an obstacle.

Carolyn frowned and blinked. She cleared her throat before saying, “Ricky, I’m sure you’re worried about Ocean. I trust that you know her very well.” She reached and took his left hand. “I’m sure you want to check on her, but we can’t allow that. As of right now, only immediate family is allowed.” Her eyes flickered to Noel, but she quickly brought her eyes back to Ricky. “Besides. You’re a fall risk. I can’t let you leave this bed right now.” Ricky pouted, pulling his hand back.

“Oh, as if her parents are coming,” Misha said bitterly. Carolyn looked up at him. “Those a-holes hardly look at her when she’s with them. You really think they’ll come now?”

Carolyn pursed her lips momentarily, avoiding eye contact. She stood up and walked over to Misha’s bed, leaning partially on the wall. “Cordelia and Robert are… I see where Ocean gets her stubbornness from.” She looked up at the Ukrainian. “One would hope that, when their child nearly dies and makes it to national news, people would put their flaws aside to be there for them…” Noel’s eyes fell on his hands, which he held in a ball in his lap. “Unfortunately, some people never change.”

“Ocean needs someone,” Noel butted in. “At least I have you.”

Carolyn shrugged. “She does. You all do. As of right now, she can’t have anyone, in the absence of her parents. Even if we chose to override that rule, she’d still have to have an adult with her.”

Misha felt bitterness spill through his body like harsh chemicals. He didn’t have anyone, either. Nobody was making the effort. Most of his friends were in this hospital with him. All the support he had was in this very room right now. All he knew was that Ocean and Constance were awake and Penny was still unconscious. He and Talya had broken things off because he just couldn’t handle their relationship on top of all this. His only other friends weren’t even in Saskatchewan now, and his one way to communicate with them had been severed. He hoped they’d hear or read his name on the news and find a way to reach out to him. Until then, he was alone. His adoptives were right there in Uranium, probably overjoyed that he was out of their house at least for a while. They refused to come see him just because he was legally an adult.

Wait, he was legally an adult.

“Ms. Gruber,” Misha said out loud, his eyes suddenly vibrant. “I am eighteen.”

Carolyn looked back at Misha, her face plastered with shock and surprise. Misha stared back at her, fully serious. She bit her lip, which already looked scarred and chapped. Her gaze flickered away and back to him a few times before she cleared her throat. “I… Screw it, let me ask LeBlanc.”

___

Ocean stared at the wall, suppressing tears. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t know how she was supposed to face anyone anymore. What was she meant to say when someone asked what was on her mind? That she was thinking of her friends who had all literally died and been brought to limbo to compete for a chance to live but her hesitation had cost them their peace and landed them in the hospital? She couldn’t be expected to tell the truth. Instead, she just screamed to be left alone whenever someone asked. She’d pick apart the nurses for everything they did to make her uncomfortable. If they’d just shut up and do their job efficiently, none of that would be necessary. As it stood, Ocean couldn’t feed herself by hand on account of her two broken arms. She couldn’t even leave her bed to use the restroom. She was stuck. Useless. She took it all out on the nurses who dared talk to her, which was all of them so far. 

Since she’d woken up, Ocean had been in excruciating pain. It wasn't the physical pain that got her, however. She had numbing agents running through her system at all times. Mentally? She was tearing herself up. The doctors and nurses couldn’t do squat to help. She needed to talk to the others, and they wouldn’t let her. She needed to apologize to them all. She needed to see that they would be okay. She needed to talk with them about what happened. She needed to be with them. She needed to hear their voices. She needed them. Ocean needed them so badly, but she was denied. So, she screamed in defiance and sat alone. Her behaviors had kept her from being moved into a room with anyone else, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t be able to be with Constance or the Jane Doe, so what did it matter?

Ocean stared at one spot on the wall, wishing cold guilt would stop pulsing through her body.

There was a knock on the door, and she glared at Nurse Gruber as she stepped in. “What do you want?” she asked bitterly. “According to the schedule one my wall, you’re not-”

“This isn’t about food, bathroom, or medication,” Nurse Gruber said, putting up one hand to calm Ocean. “You have a visitor.”

Ocean stared back at the wall. “If it’s one of my parents, tell them to get out. It’s too late.”

“Neither of your parents are here,” Nurse Gruber said softly. “Mr. Bachynskyi wants to see you.”

Ocean looked back at the door to see a tall Ukrainian standing there. His hair was a complete mess. His right arm was in a sling and a cast that went up to his shoulder. His good arm pulled the pole with his IV along with him. He should not have been out of bed!

“Misha, what the heck are you doing?!” Ocean asked, eyes widened. “You need to go sit down!”

“Okay.” Misha came into the room, walking somewhat slowly. He winced as he sat in the cushioned chair on her left. “There, I am sitting.”

“You smart aleck!” Ocean said. She heard the door closed and glared at Misha. “Do you have no self-respect? These gowns don’t close in the back. Why are you even here?! You’re not family, and you are a patient,” Ocean pointed out, looking up at his IV bag.

Misha shrugged with his left arm only. “It is, uh, legally dubious.” He reached out his left hand to gesture to her. “I like the hair.”

“I don’t,” Ocean spat. Her hair was naturally quite wavy, and she made it a point to straighten it out. Her mother’s hair was wavy and looked like a disgusting mess. Ocean O’Connell-Rosenberg was far from disgusting. She scrunched up her nose at Misha. “How about yourself? Have you even washed your hair since the accident?”

“A few times,” Misha said, clearly avoiding the conversation. “Your hair looks nice.”

“No, it really doesn’t,” Ocean said darkly. She turned her head away. “I look like a disaster. I haven’t been able to do a proper self-care routine. My hair is a rat’s nest. I can’t brush it. I can’t wash my face. I can’t even-”

“Океан,” Misha interjected. He reached his hand out and took her fingers in his. His knuckles bumped against her cast, which was pure white.

Ocean looked down at his hand, and her eyes quickly flickered to his other arm. It had notes on it. “C’est la vie,” was written over the forearm. Next to the elbow were a few stars, little moons, inaccurate planets, and the numbers “0101011.” Ocean frowned slightly, knowing those couldn’t possibly translate into anything real. “Get well soon, Misha,” was on the side in neater handwriting than the others. Closer to his shoulder, “BadEgg.” On the back of the hand, “YOLO.” It was complete nonsense, but Ocean could tell they meant a lot. She frowned at her own blank cast.

“You look fine,” Misha told her softly. He squeezed her hand, and Ocean suddenly realized how soft and warm his hands were. “This is the hospital. None of us are expected to look very presentable. Look at me.” Ocean scoffed, but Misha had a feeling it was partially joking. “You should see Noel.” That got her to smile. “For reals. His hair is even bigger mess.”

Ocean squeezed his hand back, feeling like she was going to start crying. “Is Noel okay?!” The sudden panic in her voice surprised them both.

“Noel is fine,” Misha said. “He got off with a slap on the wrist.”

Ocean didn’t correct him on the use of that phrase. “He is?! The last I remember, he was crying on the ride.”

“He was. He is fine now. Noel is the one who made sure we were all safe,” Misha assured her. “A few broken bones. Is nothing compared to you.”

Ocean started breathing fast. “What about Ricky, Constance, Jane?!”

Misha hushed her. “Do not breathe so hard. You will hurt yourself.” He gazed at her softly. “Constance is awake. I have not seen her yet. Her parents have seen her. She is doing better. Ms. Gruber says she is smiling lots. And the girl is not Jane. Her name is Penny Lamb.” Ocean looked up at him with wide eyes. He nodded. “She is not awake yet. No word on her parents. But she has a name. She will live.”

“She will?”

“We all will,” Misha said with a nod and another squeeze. “And Ricky is alright. He has been, uh, talkative.”

“He can talk?!” Ocean said. “But- We were dead- When we- I thought that-”

“Ah, not talk,” Misha said. He shook his head to correct himself. “He does make sounds. More than before. And he writes! He writes to talk to us a lot.” He laughed dismissively. “And you said he could not read.”

Ocean’s hazel eyes started visibly filling with tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I said that!” she blurted out, suddenly loud. She pulled away and pressed her hands to her head, tangling her fingers in her hair. “I don’t know why I said half the things I did about him or made fun of him or treated him like an innocent kid which apparently he is anything but or made him join the choir-” She gasped suddenly. “It’s my fault he rode the Cyclone. It’s my fault he died. It’s my fault he’s here now and in pain. It’s my- It’s my- It’s-”

“Океан,” Misha said softly. When she looked at him, tears streaming down her reddening face, he took her left hand out of her hair. He detangled the messy curls from her fingers, bringing them down to himself. She dropped her other hand, staring at him as her breath shook. “It is not your fault. Do not blame yourself. You couldn’t have stopped it.” His face darkened, “That damned carnie is to blame. That fair is to blame. They endangered us. You endangered nobody ever.”

“If I hadn’t forced you all into the choir-”

“You could not have known. Is not your fault. You did many things wrong. The accident is not one.”

Tears continued to spill from her eyes. She turned away again, pressing her other fingers against her mouth. Misha stared at her for a moment, wondering what was going through that screwy little ginger head of hers. He took in a breath to speak but was cut off by Ocean suddenly screaming into her hand. The sound was one of raw pain, anguish, and rage. Misha was familiar. It was muffled for a moment before she pulled her hand down, so the end of her scream was crisp. “I’m going to SUE that place! I’m going to take them to court and fuck them over!” Ocean screamed. Misha was taken off guard by her profanity. Ocean never swore. “I’m going to sue every cent out of that place and leave every carnie and safety inspector homeless and dying of starvation!” She screamed wordlessly into her hand again. Misha felt her grip his fingers tightly. He gripped back in solidarity. “I’m going to make everyone in that fair suffer for what they did. My arms are broken, my ribs are broken, my back hurts, my friends are hurt, we’re all traumatized!” She suddenly gasped and screamed again, this time no longer muffling it. “Dammit!” She sobbed for an instant before inhaling sharply. “Those incompetent morons are going to pay, in every interpretation of the word, for what they did to us!” She squeezed Misha’s hand as tightly as she could, which didn’t feel like much to the Ukrainian. “How could they let this happen?!”

Misha let go of Ocean’s hand and reached to cup her face. “Shh, hey, shh… You’re going to hurt your vocal chords,” he said with a weak smile.

She looked at him, using her other hand to hold him to her face. “They hurt us! They ruined our lives!”

“I know,” Misha said, tearing up as well. “I know.”

“I’m going to ruin THEM!!”

“I know you will.” Misha stroked her voice. “You’ll get them, Imbyr.” Ocean blinked, not knowing what the nickname meant.

“We died,” she said quietly. “We died, Misha.”

“I know…”

“We’re alive because of a magic novelty machine,” she said with a disbelieving laugh.

“I know. I was there.”

“We’re alive.”

“We are…”

Ocean took Misha’s hand in her left, pressing the fingers of her right back over her mouth. She shook her head frantically.

“You need to rage. That is why I am here,” Misha said. He sighed and squeezed her hand. “Go ahead and scream, Imbyr. I’ll be here.”

Ocean screwed her eyes shut and, once more, screamed into her hand.

Chapter Text

30 September 2009

Ricky stirred in his sleep when he heard someone's voice. He was pulled from his dream, the crying voices receding. Around him, the warehouse got dark and quiet. Instead of chains, he heard beeping. Light still flashed from the corner, Ricky realized as he opened his eyes. He lifted his head as another cry rang out.

Am I really awake? Am I alive? This can't be the warehouse, can it?

He saw the television playing something in the background, casting an ever-changing light over the dark room. Ricky rubbed his eyes as he looked around. If he wasn't in the warehouse, where- Oh. The hospital.

“No!”

Ricky jumped and looked to his right, where he could see Noel reaching up with one hand. He frowned, trying to see his face in the television's irregular light.

“Nnn?” Noel? What's wrong? Are you awake? What happened?

Ricky felt his voice fade as he tried to get Noel's attention. He almost cried. How was it, every time he woke up now, he forgot he'd been mute his whole life?

“S'il te plaît!”

That startled Misha awake. The Ukrainian groaned as he sat up on his good arm. “What is the deal?”

It's Noel! Something's wrong. I think he's having a nightmare. I can't help him; you have to.

Ricky whined to get Misha's attention. Misha looked up at him, and he pointed at Noel. Misha raised an eyebrow as Ricky cupped his hand and made a shaking motion with it. The movement made his torso scream at him.

“Ne nous quitte pas. Non!” Noel said, voice clear as day. Ricky had next to no clue what he was saying, but by his tone, it couldn't be anything good.

Misha shook his head at Ricky. “What do you mean? What is-” He gave Ricky a very confused look, repeating the shaking motion and wincing.

“Please… I’m sorry. I'll be good, I promise…”

Ricky groaned quietly and repeated the motion, pointing at Noel a few more times.

Wake him up! He's having a nightmare. Shake him out of it. Can't you see he's freaking out?

Noel turned, reaching out at nothing. “S'il te plaît… Reste… Papa, ne pars pas…” He whined, grabbing at something. “J'ai besoin de toi!”

Misha suddenly got the hint. He got up from his bed, visibly wincing. He turned to sit on the edge of Noel's bed so he wasn't tugging the tube in his left arm much. He carefully put a hand on Noel's arm and gently shook him. “Hey, Slovesnyk?”

Noel gasped and grabbed onto his arm, muttering again. “Don't leave me…”

Ricky's eyes widened, and he almost considered trying to force himself to stand and all but fall over to get to him.

Calm down, it's okay. Misha's right there, ready to help. I'm right here, ready to help. It's only a dream, Noel. I know how scared you are. I'm scared too. Please wake up so we can help you.

Misha started shaking harder, frowning. “Noel. Noel, wake up.” He shook as hard as he dared for fear of jolting his injuries. “Wake up!”

Noel gasped, crying out. Misha let go as he sat up, clearly disoriented. He gasped, muttering broken phrases in French. Ricky stared at him sadly, watching as he seemed to gather where he was. “Hey, hey, it's okay. You're awake now,” the rapper whispered. Noel looked at Misha, shaking his head dazedly. He suddenly started sniffling, crying. Misha held out his good arm, and Noel leaned on his chest, starting to sob. Wincing visibly from the pain, Misha wrapped his arm around Noel and rubbed his back. When Noel cried out, he shifted his hand lower to avoid his worst rib. “Shhh, shhh, you're okay. Listen to me, you're okay… No rollercoaster. No warehouse. Nobody's leaving. I'm right here, Slovesnyk…”

Why would anyone leave? We're here. Misha and I can't go anywhere. Even if I could, I'd stay right here with you. We're in this together.

Ricky watched helplessly as Noel just kind of dissolved into tears, leaning into Misha. Here he was, unable to get out of bed. Misha was speaking more gently than Ricky had ever heard before. He took the words to heart, comforting himself without having to reach out. In the half-light, he saw Misha look up at him and offer a small smile. Ricky nodded in return.

For a moment, all that filled the room were the lights of the television, Noel's crying, and Misha's comforting words. Ricky watched helplessly as Noel came apart.

Eventually, he noticed the dull show playing on the television. He reached to grab the remote, which was usually at his bedside in some unspoken rule, and started flicking through channels. He settled on some cartoon with fairies. He was pretty sure it was for children, but it was more comforting than anything that would be deemed “age-appropriate” for the three of them. He turned the volume down a bit so it was just a hum in the background. He set down the remote and looked back at Noel, who seemed to be calming down. Noel pulled back from Misha, wiping his eyes. He glanced at the television and then looked back at Ricky. “Thanks,” he said softly. He turned a bit so he could face Ricky more, leaning back into Misha’s touch. The Ukrainian just shifted his arm so he wouldn’t put pressure on Noel’s ribs. “Hey, Ricky?”

“Mm?”

Noel smiled and looked him in the eyes. “You’re a great friend…”

Ricky’s heart absolutely swelled up in a way it never had before. As Noel and Misha leaned back in bed again, Ricky began to tear up.

I have friends. Noel thinks I’m a good friend. That’s actually kind of surprising because I’ve never really had friends before. I mean, I guess Noel and I were friends when we were five, but friendships are so shallow when you’re five. It doesn’t take much to be a good friend. Just don’t be a dick. What have I done to be a great friend? Aside from turning on the television to offer a distraction right now, I haven’t been able to do much. It is possible he didn’t quite mean that, but I doubt Noel would lie. I guess I am a great friend. I just need to figure out why so I can keep doing that.

He turned his face back to the screen, quickly wiping away his tears as he started dozing off to the show.

___

1 October 2009

Constance was surprised when she was told she’d be moving to a new room. They were taking her out of the ICU, since she was in more stable condition. The day of the transition, which was really more the night of because it was dark and silent, she learned that she got to have a roommate. She didn’t get the chance to see them, however, as she almost instantly went to sleep, trying not to be plagued by strange and frightening dreams.

She had failed at that, seeing visions of colored lights, hearing a deep voice clang in her head. Constance didn’t startle awake, luckily just coming to consciousness in a haze of discomfort, aches, and uneasiness. She groaned to herself as she looked around and tried to familiarize herself with her surroundings.

She reached to the side, taking the glasses off her new commode and slipping them on. She was almost scared to move her fingers and damage her arms, but no serious pain flared. Constance blinked and looked around, eyes suddenly landing on the person on her right. She gasped, her heart welling up with relief.

“Ocean!”

Ocean looked over at her, eyes wide. “Constance!” Her face flashed between a smile and a frown a few times. She settled on something in the middle with her lip quivering. “Constance…”

“I have been so worried about you! Oh my gosh, your arms, are you okay? Oh my gosh, we’re broken arm buddies!” Constance’s mind started swirling with ideas. “We should draw friendship bracelets on each other’s casts.” Ocean’s casts looked so bare and sad, other than a few scribbles.

“Worried about me?”

“Well, yeah! You started just screaming hysterically a bit ago. They haven’t told me anything about you,” Constance kept going. Her lips weren’t tugging as much as they had been before. “And everything that happened! I’m not the only one who saw any of that, right?”

Ocean looked at the door with wide eyes, but relaxed a tiny bit. She looked back at Constance, voice hushed. “We went off the loop-de-loop and died, right?”

Constance nodded slowly, her eyes shifting to sad as she realized how upset Ocean was. “Yeah. Yeah, we did. And Karnak, that fortune teller, saved us.”

“He made us compete. He made me vote for who had to live,” Ocean said. One of her hands came up to her mouth. She brushed her lips with her fingers, the cast hitting her chin. “I was gonna vote for myself… The whole time, I was just gonna vote for myself…”

“But you didn’t,” Constance reminded her with a small smile.

Ocean shook her head, and Constance could hear the tears falling in her voice. “I was so mean. I was going to let you all die! I was going to let you all die!” She started breathing quickly, and Constance could hear the rapid beeping of a machine. “I was awful to all of you. I was always so awful- I was going to let you all die! ”

Constance raised an eyebrow. The motion tugged her skin slightly. “But you didn’t .” Constance tried to show Ocean a soft smile. “Ocean, you-”

“I should have never forced you to join the choir!” Ocean said. She sniffed. “I shouldn’t have- I should never have made you join with me. If- If you hadn’t, you’d be fine! You could have been fine-”

“Ocean, calm down,” Constance said gently. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” She reached a hand out, unable to get close enough to help.

“I’m so sorry!”

Constance froze. She had only ever heard Ocean apologize once before. Well, she’d apologized plenty. Quick little “I’m sorries” and “my bads” had fallen from her time and time again. The only time she’d really seemed to mean it was when Constance was standing there, hair falling wildly around her, her body still on a sugar rush from getting to belt her heart out into that warehouse. When she’d turned to look at Ocean, unsure of how to ever proceed because things weren’t okay, but they didn’t have enough time to process it. That’s when Ocean had grabbed her hand and whispered, barely audibly, “I’m sorry.” That was all it took for Constance to take both her hands and squeeze them tight. Ocean repeated herself, loud enough for only the two and any god to hear. “I’m sorry.” Sure, Constance deserved a better apology, but Ocean had been so genuine that she gave it up for good. There was no use holding any hard feelings. Even now, alive and set up to recover, she couldn’t stay furious and bitter.

Constance smiled gently. “Hey, Oce, I know-”

“I’m- I’m sorry for being so mean to you. I’m sorry for getting so upset with you for little things. I’m sorry for being controlling. I’m sorry for being selfish. I’m sorry for acting so self-righteous. I’m sorry for treating you like some side character. I’m sorry for treating you like you’re worth less than I am. You- You’re not worth any less than me. None of you are! Especially you, you are so- so amazing, and I can’t believe it took going to Hell and back for me to see that. You never deserved that. I’m sorry that I never told you how much you mean to me, because Constance, you mean so, so much to me. You really are my best friend, and I never realized how much I need you. I’ve taken advantage of you and made everything about myself. I’ve taken you for granted. I- I’ve never appreciated you the- the way you deserve. I- I treated you terribly! And- And- And I will- I will- I will never forgive myself for- for the way I treated you. I will- I will never-” She sniffed, one of her bulky hands pressing against her chest as firmly as she could without making herself scream. Ocean was starting to ugly sob, which was horribly uncharacteristic of her. Constance stared at her in shock and bewilderment, wondering how long Ocean had prepared this speech. “I’m s- so- s- s- sorry for being a super horr- horrible best friend. You- You deserve- so- so much better. I- I don’t deserve a friend as- as nice and- and kind and funny and- and brave as you and- and I’m sorry-”

“Ocean, Ocean,” Constance said, shaking her head slightly. She waited for Ocean to look at her, eyes shining brightly in the low light of the room. “Ocean… Thank you.”

The red-headed girl looked at Constance with wide eyes. “What?” she whispered shakily.

“Thank you,” Constance said. She was quiet for a minute, letting that sink in. “That means so much to me. I’m glad you said that.”

Ocean leaned back, her breathing slowing down and getting deeper. She sniffled a few times, but she wasn’t sobbing like a mess anymore.

Constance sighed and sat back as well. “That was really sincere, like genuinely , and I can tell you meant it,” she said softly. “So, I forgive you.”

“You… Why?”

Constance shrugged. “Because you’re sorry. You’re really sorry.”

“Why would you forgive-”

“Because you apologized,” Constance interrupted. “You, like, really apologized. Back in the warehouse and just now.” Ocean just looked disbelieving and frightened. Constance took a deep breath. “Ocean, I’ve stayed with you for years. We’ve been best friends since we were four. There’s a reason for that.”

“Even though I’ve literally just been so-”

“Ocean… You’ve been through so much. I always had to be there. Someone had to,” Constance explained. “I don’t even blame you for the way you are. Your- Your parents should have been there to take care of you. Your parents should have taught you better. Your parents should have raised you with better values and morals. They- Your parents should have raised you!”

Ocean stared back at her, frowning. “Constance, I-”

“Am I wrong?” Constance asked. She looked Ocean firmly in the eyes. “Did they ever play with you, teach you things, ground you, or do, like, anything that a parent should?” Ocean just frowned more deeply. She was quiet. “You raised yourself , Ocean. You were just trying to be better, trying to keep yourself alive, trying to learn about the world, trying to learn how to make friends, trying to study, trying to make an impact. You’re supposed to do all that, yeah, but your parents are supposed to help!” Ocean started tearing up again. “No wonder you’re so screwed up! You were doing all that on your own . That’s not right, and you know it!”

Ocean took a shaky breath. “I- I should have been better to you-”

“How were you supposed to know what a healthy relationship looked like? Did your parents teach you?”

Ocean screwed her eyes shut. “I should have known better-”

“Who taught you better?”

“I… I…” Ocean suddenly looked up at Constance.

“Well?”

“Nobody… Nobody really did.”

Constance nodded. “Exactly,” she said. “I stuck around because I wanted to help. You needed a good influence, I guess. Or maybe you needed a bad one.” The girl laughed to herself a bit. Ocean was just staring at her. Constance frowned. “Hey… What’s on your mind?”

Ocean swallowed hard and looked at her arms. “Misha said they haven’t said anything. He, Noel, and Ricky decided to keep it a secret.”

“When did you get to talk to Misha?! Is he okay? Are they okay?” Constance started asking.

Ocean nodded. “Yeah. They’re all doing alright. I mean, they are all really beat up, and Misha had a cast all the way up his arm,” she explained, still staring off. “They’re together.”

“Thank God!” Constance said. “I was so worried they’d all been isolated off the bat. I was so worried… I didn’t like being alone. When my parents weren’t here, I was so sad. I’m so glad we’re in the same room. We have so much to talk about.”

“Like… Like if you wanna be friends anymore?” Ocean muttered.

“What? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m a terrible person!” Ocean exclaimed, throwing her casted arms up. The motion seemed to hurt, as she cried out and leaned back, taking loud, deep breaths.

Constance frowned. Ocean was all over the place. She was always anxious, but never distraught like this. Constance took a breath and leaned back, not even looking directly at Ocean. Her eyes started to wander around the dim room.

“Ocean… I don’t think you’re a horrible person. I’ve stayed your friend for this long because you’re usually nice to me. I mean, you don’t directly bully me as much as some of the other girls… When I’m with you, I’m at least on the edge of the spotlight. You’ve tried to help me in your own ways. And I know that a lot of your behaviors aren’t your fault. I’ve always believed you could get better. I’ve seen your good and bad. Even when it wasn’t… enjoyable, I wanted to stay with you for that good part.”

Ocean was quiet for a second. Then, “That’s not good. You should have left when I was bad.”

Constance hummed. “I didn’t… Maybe I should have. But… I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Why? You died. If I had never pressured you into joining the choir-”

“I would still see my parents as awful people,” Constance said. “I would still think of them as dreamless, dead-end losers. I would still hate Uranium. I would have tried to leave this city as soon as possible, not caring what happened behind me. I would have started acting out even more. I would have tried to rebel in awful ways that would have had worse consequences.”

“Worse than two broken wrists and a bunch of scars on your face?”

Constance nodded. “Yeah, like- Wait scars on my face? How many scars do I have?”

Ocean pursed her lips. “Uhh nevermind. It’s not even that bad. They look… eh…”

Constance rolled her eyes. “You can tell me if they look bad. I haven’t even looked yet… My parents say they’re badass, though.”

“That’s not the word I’d use, but… I guess they kind of look cool,” Ocean said with a weak smile.

“So I’ll wear them with pride,” Constance declared with a smile. Ocean frowned. “Anyways… I already made some awful mistakes. But I’m not going to make them because I’m a new person. I can be nice without being innocent. I can love this town without hating myself for it. You getting me on that roller coaster led to me learning that.”

Ocean was silent for a moment, staring at Constance as she gazed away. “You… Are you okay, Constance?”

“Hm?” Constance turned to look at her. “Yeah. Why?”

“You… You were basically raped…” Ocean’s eyes started shining again. “You deserve better than that. You- Even if you went with it, that carnie took advantage of you.”

Constance shrugged. “Yeah… I’m okay. I mean, that was super stupid of me, and it wasn’t okay… I guess I’m not as worried about that right now. It’s not like I was super hurt. I’m… I’m more worried about my nose healing right.” The look on her face, however, was one of deeply unsettling guilt and discomfort. Even now, she wouldn’t fully admit to everything. Part of having a secretive nature, she supposed.

Ocean sighed, looking over at her with an exhausted and sad expression.

“We’ll circle back to that. There’s already a lot going on,” Constance said. “And… I’d rather not talk about it yet. Not… I know you wanna report it and all that-”

“Because that jerk hurt my best friend,” Ocean said. “Whether you realize it yet or not. That fair is going down for hurting us. I’m going to end them, and I’ll end him too.”

Constance smiled at Ocean, taking the chance to change the subject. “Ocean… This is why I’m still friends with you. When you care about something, you care about that something. You’re passionate and determined, and I admire it,” she told her. “And you’re just gonna get better.”

Ocean frowned still, not happy that Constance was trying to avoid talking about her virginity, and she wasn’t about to give that up, but she appreciated hearing that.

“And Ocean, you apologizing is proof of that,” Constance said. “I’m not going to lie to you… I don’t think you’re a good person.” She smiled at her. “But you just proved that you’re a better person than you were the day of the fair.”

“I’ve had a lot of time alone with my thoughts,” Ocean admitted. “I’ve had a lot to manage mentally.”

“And that’s proof you’re trying,” Constance said. Ocean smiled in spite of how she felt, raising an eyebrow at Constance. “Oh, and, I’m sorry for punching you in the boob.”

“No. No, don’t apologize for that. I deserved it,” Ocean insisted, looking down.

Constance smiled and shrugged. “Then I take it back.”

“Good.”

Constance and Ocean’s eyes met, and they started giggling quietly. Oh, it hurt to laugh so much, but it felt so good to laugh!

As Ocean watched the brightness dance in Constance’s eyes, she felt the heavy weight in her chest lighten a bit. She may not have deserved Constance, but she was glad she had her back. Looking at how okay Constance was feeling, Ocean knew she would be too. They would be okay.

Chapter Text

8 October 2009

She stared at the wall of the hospital room, ready to cry. She couldn't cry. She was ready to scream. She couldn't scream. She didn't even know if she was paralyzed. She just couldn't move. It wasn't like she was trying, her limbs barely moving as though she was under six feet of dirt. She couldn't try . She just stared at the ceiling, wondering whether she was alive or just staring through her dead eyes.

She had just been lying there for so long. She had no idea how long it had been, but it felt like forever. It nearly was forever, for her. That was just about all she had known. Her very existence was painful, stuck with her eyes closed. Her whole torso flared with every breath she took. Her neck ached and made her want to wail.

She couldn't .

Her eyes finally started to move around the room, seeing the machines next to her. She listened to them beeping and realized she must have been alive. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she blinked them down her cheeks.

She was alive?

Her thoughts raced as she searched for memories of something other than pain. She searched for something other than discomfort in the darkness. She only found pain, but there was more with it.

She felt a sudden strike of unadulterated terror . She remembered a sudden, crushing pain in the side of her head. She remembered feeling her neck snap and tear. Then, it was light. She remembered feeling so incredibly light-headed. High, lilting notes that rang through the room. Flying, falling, and flipping through the sky.

She remembered the sound of an accordion, voices, and a pretty little flame. She remembered faces, names. She remembered singing, dancing, and arguing. The fortune teller that had pulled her from oblivion. Everyone holding one another in a hug as they prepared to die again.

She remembered being on that roller coaster all of a sudden, screaming for help. She remembered the bar over her lap coming up and endangering her life all over again. Holding onto the boy next to her, onto Ricky, as gravity tried to tear her away. Crying as she realized she hadn’t fallen. Silence as they flew off the track anyway. Screaming as they hit the ground. Pure pain and panic and darkness as they hit a wall, and her head slammed down.

Here she was, in pain, alone, and she still didn't know who she was.

She spiraled, cried, and screamed internally, unable to recall a single event before the loss of her head.

___

9 October 2009

Ricky watched his father gesture, following along with what he was saying. He was enjoying the visit, as this had been only the third one since the accident. He was sure they were busy taking care of their cats. Besides, the drive here was two hours on a good day. He couldn't expect them to come every day.

His father was talking about how much the cats missed them. He missed the cats, too. Apparently, a lot of them had been staying in his room while he was in the hospital. Ricky frowned as he watched his father. They hated knowing their cats were worried. Even worse, they didn't know he was okay.

Ricky realized, with a horrible clarity, that his cats would have done that when he was dead.

Ricky gestured back, struggling to convey his message with only one good hand. Tell them I'm okay. I'll be home soon.

To himself, his thoughts expanded in ways their little language could not convey. I'm so sorry for them. They're worried about me more than they need to be. Although they did need to be, for a while there. It's honestly a little disturbing to know exactly what they would have been doing when I was dead. As morbid as it is, it makes me wonder how the two of you would have reacted. It makes me wonder how you would have handled me dying earlier than you were prepared for.

His mother reached and stroked his hair, gently untangling the knots. She cupped his face in her hand and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Ricky smiled as she did. He almost went to hug her, but she pulled away and stood up. He frowned slightly as she made a few gestures. We'll see you soon. Sleep well. Stay safe.

Just as she turned to leave, the door opened. Ricky watched his father stand suddenly, stiffening and putting an arm in front of his mother. Ricky looked up, smiling when he saw Carolyn in the door. The smile vanished when he saw the way she went expressionless at the sight of his parents.

“Susan, Allen,” she greeted curtly with a nod. She pushed in a cart with their dinner and a couple of meds. She went to Misha first, placing a plate with salmon and vegetables in front of him. “I tried to get something with a little more flavor like you asked. It's better than beige and mayonnaise.” She added a small dish with cheese curds and a glass of water.

“Thank you, Miss Gruber,” Misha said quietly. Ricky glanced over at him, slightly concerned by his change in demeanor. He started acting reserved whenever Carolyn was in the room.

Why do you get like that? I mean, I know I act a little different around her, but that’s because pretty women scare me a little. You don’t act like that at all. You act nervous, almost sad. What is it about her? Carolyn Gruber is beautiful, comforting, and kind. I can’t understand why she seems to unsettle you. How I wish we culd just speak with our minds. Wouldn’t that be neat? If we had telepathic powers, I wouldn’t have to wear out my one good hand to try and talk to you. Then you’d be able to speak freely, too. I’d never judge. I hope you wouldn’t go back on your promise to listen to me, because I have way too much to say.

“You don't have to be so formal,” the nurse said, smiling at him. “It would be okay if you called me Carolyn.”

“Oh, uh…” Misha cleared his throat. “Thank you, Miss Carolyn.”

The woman smiled softly at Misha, turning to her son. She gave him a plate as well, gently pushing the meal tray to a comfortable distance. “I'm sure you have had enough egg salad sandwiches,” she said, arranging the dish to look a little nicer.

Ricky noticed his parents gesturing to each other. He looked up at them, noticing that their faces were twisted as though they were eating something bitter and trying not to gag. He raised an eyebrow at them. They both stopped gesturing when they noticed him staring and crossed their arms. Carolyn turned to Ricky to give him his dinner, glaring slightly at his parents.

Ricky glanced at Noel, who was watching his mother quietly. So they were on the same page here.

“It's good to finally see you two here,” Carolyn said in a sweet tone, with a sudden bite. “How have you been doing?”

Ricky's mother rolled her eyes and made a gesture to indicate, We have been very good.

Carolyn froze in her movements, staring and blinking at the other. She gently set something on Ricky's table and pushed it closer. “Could you repeat that?”

She did, glaring sharply.

It's not that I forget, but sometimes it doesn't fully resonate with me that nobody else knows what we're talking about. I didn't have a choice in being mute or having to communicate this way. This is the best way for me. I'm touched by my parents’ solidarity but confused as to why they would make it more difficult on themselves to communicate with others. I wonder if they ever use their voices when I'm not around.

Ricky tried to avert his eyes, pulling the plate closer. For a moment, he worried about whether he could safely consume the vegetables, but upon poking them, realized they were overcooked enough for him to actually eat.

Carolyn sighed and shook her head. “I'm sorry, I don't understand,” she said in an out-of-the-blue customer service voice.

Ricky's father jabbed a finger at Carolyn, quickly throwing a few gestures that Ricky recognized as some sort of insult. Eyes wide, he looked back at Noel. Noel just shook his head, trying to turn his attention to his food instead. Somehow, the mushy vegetables were more appealing to the both of them.

Carolyn took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of herself. “I apologize for not knowing your made up language,” she said mock-sincerely. “If only there was a way to communicate between us. Oh, wait! There's at least three I can think of-” I'm right here! “Yes, Ricky?”

Ricky waved a hand to get their attention, reaching over and grabbing his notepad and pen. He shoved the items into his mother's hands, desperately wanting to defuse the situation.

Please stop fighting! Mom, just write it down. That would be easier for all of us. I don't understand how you have to make it a huge issue. Also, I've never even seen you this upset with someone. Like I’m aware of the fact that you don’t really have friends outside of Kelly and Adam Greene, but you don’t really treat people this coldly. Or have I just not noticed that before?

His mother smiled at him briefly before taking them and starting to write furiously. Ricky questioned whether this was a good decision.

Oh- Please don't make it worse. Why are you suddenly so upset? What did Carolyn ever do to you? She's only ever kind and comforting. What did you do to her to make her so tense when you're here? Wait a minute, have I ever seen you two interact with her? Now that I think about it, no. I never went on errands with you after I stopped walking, and we never went to school functions. There was never an opportunity for me to see you with her.

After a moment, his mother tore off the top page and held it out to Carolyn. Ricky looked down as they passed the paper above him, wishing he could just get up and leave the room. He glanced at the others, silently begging for help. Noel just shrugged. Misha wasn't even paying attention, busy shoving so many cheese curds into his mouth that they were trying to escape his lips.

Carolyn read the paper and suddenly looked at Ricky's mother with her jaw open. She suddenly crumpled the paper into a small ball. “Well, I'm glad you've been well all these years. And, for the record, we’ve been doing fantastic ,” she said calmly.

Ricky's mother started writing something else as Carolyn shoved the paper in her pocket. When she finished, his father took the paper and added something. He gave the page to Carolyn, who snatched it, glaring.

I am literally right here. I am literally right here. Could you not do this right here? Can you move away from the bed? Please just let me eat in peace. Stop fighting. Let me eat the shit-lump excuse for vegetables and leave me be.

Ricky wished he could sit back even farther and be enveloped in the bed.

Carolyn scoffed and crushed the paper in one hand. “That's enough!” She shoved the paper in her pocket and stepped away. She went to Misha's bed, still glaring. “Do not write to me like that in front of my patients, salope indiscrète.”

Noel gasped, a hand slapping over his mouth. He stared at Ricky, who wondered what on Earth that even meant. They glanced between their parents.

This tension could be cut with a butter knife. Why are they like this all of a sudden? What the fuck did my mom say to make her so mad? What did Carolyn just call her?

Ricky's father waved to him, quickly gesturing to say he loved him. He turned to open the door. His mother followed, flipping off Carolyn as they left. The door shut, and Ricky’s eyes were hot; he had the sudden, inexplicable urge to cry.

Carolyn took a deep breath, holding something from the tray. “Misha, dear, can I see your wrist?”

Both of them half-heartedly turning to their meals, Ricky and Noel made eye contact, and he was almost certain that they were thinking the same thing.

Why the hell did their parents hate one another so much?

___

10 October 2009

“Look, I can't force you to do anything. I’m gonna come back in a few minutes, and by the time I come back, you had better have decided whether to go in or leave.”

The social worker stood up and walked down the hall, towards the waiting room which had vending machines.

The boy glowered as that insensitive prick left him sitting outside the hospital room, still trying to decide whether or not he could do this. He pulled his knees to his chest on the bench and dipped his head.

How the hell could he be expected to just go in there? How could he be expected to look his sister in the face and know she didn't know?! How could he be expected to make eye contact with her and not break into little bits?

Ezra huffed and slammed a fist down on the bench. The outside of his hand hurt, but he didn't regret it. He stared at the door that was right there in front of him. He imagined the room that he was right outside of. He thought of his sister, who was just inside , awake, and clueless as to who she was. As to who he was. Nobody knew if she was herself anymore, because only nurses had seen her until now. Ezra would have to be the one to make that call. He had to be the one to determine whether Penny was still in there.

No. He couldn’t do it. He was gonna leave.

Ezra buried his face in his legs, pressing his glasses into his eyes and waiting for the social worker to come back and pull him away. He heard footsteps all around, approaching and receding. He heard some soft footsteps suddenly stop. Heavier footsteps approached and then stopped. He heard a few low whispers, unable to make out anything that was said. The heavy footsteps went back the way they had come. Soft footsteps approached him slowly, and he felt the bench creak as someone sat next to him.

“Hey, bud,” a woman's voice said. Ezra looked up to see a nurse with long, brown hair held by a white headband. She sat in front of him, smiling softly. “Do you wanna talk?”

Ezra shrugged. He probably needed to, but he didn't know what to say. What were you supposed to say when your only family left had complete amnesia?

“You're here for her, right?” the woman asked, gesturing to the door of the room they were outside of. He nodded. “What's your name again?

He stared at her for a moment, just feeling how hollow his own eyes were. “Hi, uh…. Ezra Lam…buh…” The joke just wasn't funny without her. He finished it quietly, eyes drifting away from the woman.

“Ezra…” The woman shifted to get more comfortable. “How are you feeling?”

He glared at her. “How do you think?! ” He sucked in a breath and reached with one hand to tug his hair. “I'm sitting outside, tasked with trying to reach out to my amnesiac sister who nearly fucking died .” He pulled at his curls, tearing up for the umpteenth time today.

The nurse frowned and pulled her legs up the same way as his, only she still faced forwards. “I figured… I'm sorry you have to go through this. You must be close with your sister.”

“The only thing that could make us closer is if we were twins conjoined at the side, sharing a leg and having our blood vessels intertwined,” Ezra said in one breath. He took a few, shaking breaths. “The only thing that could pull us apart is death. Or amnesia, maybe…” Ezra inhaled sharply and shook his head. He tightened his grip on his hair. “I can't lose her. I can't lose her! ”

Ezra pulled at his hair again, his sudden scream echoing through the hallway. He whined and slammed his other fist on the bench again.

“It's not fair! ” He gasped and looked at Carolyn. “It's not fair! She's all I have left. Our parents aren't here anymore. What if I go in there and find out I lost her? Then what? Then what? ”

Ezra sniffed and pressed the lower half of his face into his knees. He pulled at his hair, making his scalp sting and starting to breathe heavily. He knew he should calm down. He knew he needed to breathe slowly. He knew this wasn't helping, but Penny was in there, nearly dead, maybe no longer herself, and he was fucking scared .

“I can't . I can't do it. I can't go in there knowing she doesn't know me anymore.” He tugged at his curls again. Prickling pain went up around his scalp. “Maybe- Maybe if I don't- Maybe if she never confirms that she's gone, she won't be. Maybe- Maybe if I don't know she doesn't know who I am, she'll get better and remember me.”

The nurse listened as he broke down for a few minutes, at this point spitting nonsense about how upset and scared he was. He knew that most of these thoughts were just fragmented concepts in words. He knew that it was stupid to think he could ignore it. He didn't care because he was so scared and just wanted Penny to be alright. Ezra eventually ran out of abstract thoughts and was left breathing heavily, torn between wanting to see Penny and wanting to go somewhere he could really lash out. He tugged at his hair again, sniffing. Why did he keep doing that? It hurt.

“I can't see her like that. I can't! ”

The woman stared at him for a moment before she sighed and said, “You'll regret it if you don't.”

Ezra looked over at her, tears ready to spill out of his eyes. She smiled at him and started staring ahead.

“About ten years ago, my brother was in a car crash,” she started saying quietly. “He was brought to this very hospital.” She looked down the hall. “He was two rooms and across the hall from here. I remember that night so, so clearly.”

Ezra frowned, slowly releasing his hair as he listened to her.

“I was in nursing school. I was called from what I was doing and rushed to his room. I got there maybe five to seven minutes before he died.” She pursed her lips, starting to tear up. “By then, our parents were dead. None of his friends lived here. I had no friends. His fiancée had just left him.” She blinked, allowing one tear to fall from each eye. Another blink, and a few more followed. “I remember how he looked. He was a mess. He had all these tubes in him and looked so damn scared. I will never forget the look he gave me that told both of us he'd die. It keeps me up some nights. The last fw weeks, that memory has been haunting me. But you know what?”

“What?” Ezra asked softly.

“I would never change it. I was the only one at his bedside when he went. I was there to support him, and I know how much it helped. I got to say goodbye. I got to hold his hand. It hurt like nothing ever has before or has since,” the woman went on. She used the heel of her hand to wipe her tears. “That's saying something, you know. I've hurt so much.” She took a deep breath and looked at Ezra. “Working here, I see every single day how much it helps to have a good support system. It gives patients courage and strength. Not having them? It's stressful and painful and scary. I am actively watching some people suffer because they have little to no support.” She gestured to the door. “Your sister is in there, scared and confused.” She pointed at Ezra. “You are her support. It is not fair that all that falls on you. It is not fair.” She sniffed. “But you're what she has. And that matters the world in situations like these. Maybe she won't recognize you. Maybe you could jog her memory. I can't tell you any of that. All I know for certain is that she has no memory, a brother who clearly loves her more than anything, and needs support.”

Ezra frowned and wiped his eyes. He slowly unfurled his limbs and looked at the nurse. “But she…”

The nurse gave him a soft, understanding expression. “I know. But she needs you. And if she really doesn't remember a thing,” the woman said, smiling weakly, “she'll be blessed with meeting her little brother all over again.”

Ezra smiled. He had to make a big impression, then. He stood up, rubbing his cheeks dry. “Alright. I'll see her.”

“I'm glad.” The nurse stood up with him, composing herself suddenly. One could hardly guess her warm brown eyes had been full of tears a moment ago.

Ezra stared at her for a moment, in utter awe of her resilience. He was enough of a mess having to see Penny now. If he had to say goodbye, he'd probably just end it all instead of moving forward. Seeing the nurse pull herself together like that was inspiring.

Ezra looked up at her and, without warning, threw his arms around her middle and squeezed. She hugged him back with no hesitation, one arm around his torso and the other cradling his head. She hummed and took a deep breath.

“Ezra?”

“Hm?”

“If you need anything at all, find a staff member and ask for Carolyn, okay?”

“Mhm…”

She pulled away from him and looked around. “Where's your social worker?”

Ezra shrugged. “He walked off to the waiting room.”

Carolyn hummed, looking up the hall. Her face suddenly became extra firm. She turned to the door and put her hand on the knob. “I see. I can go find him. I'll leave you two to talk,” she said. Carolyn opened the door for him, and Ezra stepped in backwards, partially to get one more good look at the woman and partially to avoid facing this for just one second longer. Carolyn smiled and let the door shut. Ezra heard her soft footsteps hurry up the hall.

“Hello?”

Ezra tensed up when he heard the voice. It was so much softer and meeker than he remembered. He took a breath, clenching both his hands into fists. She needed him. He needed to do this. Ezra turned around, his eyes immediately feeling hot as he saw her. She looked the same. Her hair had been let down, and was hanging in messy waves over both her shoulders. It nearly covered the large brace that was around her neck. Her neck had broken . Before he could stop himself, Ezra met her eyes, those bright green eyes, and tried to read them. He stared for a moment, looking for any hint of recognition, understanding, or so much as a thought. He couldn’t find any of that. There was nothing in her eyes. No hint of mischief, no spark of joy, no love for him.

“Who are you?”

Why was her voice so light and weak? Penny didn’t speak like that. She spoke in broken jokes and thoughtful speeches. She spoke in a tone of confidence and playfulness.

Ezra cleared his throat and slowly walked up to the bed. “Are you sure you don’t recognize me?”

Her green eyes flickered around his face. She creased her eyebrows a bit before sighing. “I don’t know who you are…” Ezra wanted to scream and just leave. How was he supposed to make her remember? What if she never remembered? What did she do to deserve this? What good was he if she didn’t know who he was? As he was about to break into tears, her voice cut into his messy thoughts and stopped them from clacking together. “I feel like I should.”

That had to mean something.

“You should…” Ezra sat down on the bed, about at her shins. That way, she didn’t have to turn her head at all so see him. He wished he could be closer. He held back tears as he put a hand on her knee. He took a breath and asked, “What do you think of when you see me?”

Her face ever so slightly shifted in concern. She hummed softly. “You make me want to smile. I hear laughter. I feel… I feel warm, like a swarm of bees are desperately flapping their wings inside me to cook me to death like I’m an intruding wasp or failed queen.” Her tone was all wrong , but those words were so Penny. In spite of his fear, Ezra laughed a bit. She, very slowly, smiled at his laugh. Her smile used to come so easily, but that big, awkward smile was undeniably Penny.

“You and your bizarre animal facts,” Ezra said. He squeezed her knee gently. “You always know the most disturbing things.” He’d never shared her love for animals, never been quite so passionate about conservation, but he had always loved hearing what she knew.

“I… do?”

Ezra nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. “Yes. You do.”

Her eyes brightened, widening in a way that told Ezra she was remembering something. “Like how, when a lioness has children, she stops making love to the lion, which sometimes causes the lion to be so jealous he eats the children, which you would think upsets the lioness, but, far from it, just means they make love again as though the children never existed?”

Ezra just blinked .

“I find that terrifying,” she said quietly.

Well, one thing was for sure. Penny was, without a doubt , still there. She sounded like a stereotypical shy cartoon character, and her expressions were lacking, but she was still, fundamentally, herself .

She looked into his eyes, her smile softening. “What’s your name?”

It hurt so badly that she even had to ask. Ezra let tears drip from both his eyes as he thought of how to answer. The answer was so simple, but the delivery was something he could never imagine having to figure out for his sister . He smiled as something dawned on him. “I am Ezra Lamb,” he told her, moving a bit closer and taking her hand. “And you are Penny Lamb. Together, we are the Lambs.”

Her smile widened again, and Ezra at least told himself that she recognized the joke. “I like that name… Penny Lam…buh…”

Ezra grinned and raised a hand to do a little sweeping motion. “Penny Lam- buh! ”

She giggled suddenly, wincing. For a second , her wild nature was back in her eyes. Ezra laughed with her, squeezing her hand. She squeezed back gently. “Are you my brother?”

Ezra grinned brightly and nodded. “Yes. Your younger brother by two years, five months, and four days.”

Sadness suddenly ran over her features like rain cascading over a window. “Where are our parents?”

Ezra swallowed. She squeezed his hand. “They are in prison.” Her eyes welled up with tears. Ezra tightened his grip on her hand fivefold. “They were arrested for drug trafficking over a year ago. We’re in foster care right now… Our foster parents kind of suck. We’ve gotten away with a lot of shit, man.”

She sniffed, at least four tears immediately spilling from her eyes without her blinking. Her hand tightened on his. “We have no family?”

“Only each other,” Ezra confirmed, his voice growing weak and cracking at the end. He sniffed. “I- I thought I’d lost you. I don’t know-”

She suddenly pulled her hand from his. She reached both her hands toward him, as if desperately trying to steal a hug from someone who was being pulled away by a fishing line. Her vibrant green eyes were suddenly wide and scared . Ezra scooted forward, and she slowly brought her hands to each side of his face. She held him there, just staring with wide, teary eyes. More tears trickled down without her blinking. Wait, was she blinking at all? “Ezra…”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you come for me?”

Ezra started sobbing softly right there. He pressed his palms to his sister’s hands, shaking his head. “They didn’t let me… I was a mess when I found out you were in that accident… Nobody wanted to listen to a hysterical fifteen year old. And… I guess I hoped it wasn’t you at all. When they did confirm you were the Jane Doe, our fosters held me back. You were barely stable, and I was so scared. Then you had no memory, and I- I-” He tilted his head down. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner… I’m so sorry, Penny.”

Her thumbs ran over his cheeks, even as they started to smear tears over his cheekbones. He sobbed for a moment, just muttering apologies and worries over and over again. She just stared at him, tears falling out of her eyes, less like crying and more like a sink overflowing. She sniffed a few times, just using her hands to memorize her brother’s face, even as he cried.

“I’m sorry I forgot you,” she whispered. “I’ll never do it again.”

“Are you sorry for almost dying on me?!”

“Very… I swear to you, Ezra Lamb, I will never do it again,” she told him. He looked up at her, and he finally saw thoughts in her eyes. She forced a wry smile. “Say my name again?”

“Penny…”

“Penny… Penny Lamb,” she repeated. She smiled a little more warmly.

“Penny Lamb,” Ezra reiterated, dipping the tips of his fingers between her palms and his cheeks. “The funniest, most honest, bravest, most loyal girl in town.”

Penny sobbed quietly and turned her hands so she could properly hold both of his. She squeezed them as tightly as she could. Ezra squeezed back with all of his might, afraid she’d slip into the light if he didn’t.

Ezra and Penny Lamb were not going to get dragged apart like that, ever again.

Chapter Text

10 October 2009

Carolyn knocked on the door, waiting until she heard a scream. Except, this time, there was no angry scream. This time, she heard a soft, “Who is it?”

“It's Nurse Gruber,” she answered with a small smile. “May I come in?”

A moment of quiet.

Then, “Okay.”

Carolyn clicked open the door, smiling when she saw the redhead she'd been worried about. Ocean gazed back at her, hazel eyes unfocused as though she’d been heavily zoned out. Oh, she looked so tired, the poor girl. “Is it that time already?” Ocean asked, her voice little more than a fatigued whisper.

“Yes. I figured we could squeeze in a quick bath while Constance is getting her exams done,” Carolyn told her. A couple of days after Misha talked to her, she actually let Carolyn genuinely converse with her. It had been the first time anyone had been able to give her personal care without facing a verbal assault.

“Look, the hospital is under the constant eyes of the public because of the accident,” Carolyn explained to her. “We can’t have the hospital looking bad. I’m sure you understand. You wouldn’t want to look bad either.” Ocean just sat there, eyes implying she'd be crossing her arms if she could, though her arms rested limply in her lap. Carolyn sighed softly and sat on the edge of her bed. “Ocean… I know you’re scared. I know all of this is stressful. I know you’d feel a lot better if you let someone give you a little more attention.”

“I am not letting strangers handle my hygiene. I can handle it myself,” Ocean hissed.

Carolyn’s heart nearly broke. “I know you’re capable, Ocean. But you physically can’t right now. Please let someone help. You wouldn’t want yourself or the hospital to look bad, would you?”

“No. I don’t want strangers touching me all over,” Ocean said sharply. “I can take care of myself. I- I’m- I am more than capable.”

“I know you are.”

“Then let me-” Ocean started coughing so violently that she never finished speaking.

Once she calmed down, Carolyn held out a hand to her. “Hey… I understand. Letting a stranger do things for you, especially such personal things, is uncomfortable.”

“Letting anyone do things for me is unacceptable. I have always taken care of myself– by myself,” Ocean snapped. Carolyn had been worried about that statement, but chose to move on.

“... What if it was me?” Carolyn offered. “You know me, and I know you. I know that doesn’t help much, but it’s a little better, isn’t it?” She smiled softly. “I won’t do anything more than I have to if that would make you uncomfortable. You can always tell me no or if you want something done differently. You would be my priority, Ocean, not the other way around. Ever.”

Ocean stared at her for a long moment but eventually started tearing up. Unblinking, she then told her, “Only you. Nobody else is allowed to do that. I don’t even want other people touching me.”

Carolyn sighed when she heard that, wrestling with her own emotions so she wouldn’t cry in front of Ocean. “That’s alright,” Carolyn assured her. “I can do that for you.”

“Also, I was told to give you your meds while I was in here.” She started prepping Ocean’s medication, both the ones meant for her wrist and her IV drip. “How are you hanging up?”

Ocean leaned back and started looking at the wall. “I’m fine, considering the fact that I have several broken wrists, casts on my arms, and my nose had to be reconstructed.”

“Realigned,” Carolyn corrected gently. “You got lucky there. As hard as you hit that wall, I’m surprised your head didn’t take far worse damage.”

“My spine’s probably really messed up,” Ocean pointed out. She held her arm out, apparently having seen Carolyn reach for it. The nurse took it and gently administered the medication that had to go directly into her bloodstream. “It hurts.”

“Not for long,” Carolyn said quietly, waiting for the drugs to kick in. Ocean pulled her arm back and went to tug at her hair, getting this look on her face indicating she was grossed out. “We can run more exams if you think it’s necessary. You know what you feel far better than us.”

“‘Than we do,’” Ocean corrected, tugging harder on another messy curl. Carolyn frowned. She’d never seen Ocean’s hair look like such a mess. She knew her hair was wavy, but she’d had it straight since she and Noel were in grade three. It looked like a tangled mess all of a sudden.

“Now, Ocean…” Carolyn said quietly, trying to gently change the topic and distract her. “Do you want to fix up your hair a bit?”

Ocean nodded, turning to the side to expose the knotted mess of her wavy hair. She hadn’t been able to properly straighten it in the hospital. It was always especially messy in the morning, so Carolyn was starting to think that Ocean shifted constantly with nightmares and pains. The thought made her heart ache painfully. The normally put-together girl was a mess in a hospital bed now.

“Okay. First thing’s first: detangling this.” Carolyn gathered Ocean’s hair in one hand, gripping tightly a few inches from the tips to minimize pulling. She started pulling the brush through it, listening as each knot was pulled apart.

“Um… Thank you,” Ocean whispered.

Carolyn smiled as she moved her hand up a bit to keep brushing upwards. “Of course. It’s no problem at all. Thank you for letting me help you,” she said. After a moment, still stuck in the same spot, she glanced at Ocean’s face. “Ocean?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you start straightening it?”

“It looked neater,” Ocean responded simply. “Wavy hair can look like a gross mess.”

Carolyn frowned. “No, not necessarily.”

“It does on my mom,” Ocean said.

Carolyn’s eyes widened. She wondered if the drugs had done anything to make Ocean relax, although part of her hoped the girl was just comfortable talking with her. She shifted her hand up about an inch. “Really?”

“Well, she also doesn’t wash it often. Like, she does when it rains,” Ocean said. Carolyn slowed her movements and raised her eyebrow.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t pay the water bill,” Ocean mumbled. “She waits for rain or snow and washes her hair with organic soap.”

Carolyn frowned. She had a long-standing feeling that the O’Connell-Rosenburg household was a mess, but she didn’t realize it was quite that bad. “Is that when you bathe?”

“I use the school showers,” Ocean admitted. “I have to get there early. That means I have to wake up really early.”

Carolyn had always known that Cordelia and Robert were self-involved bums who were obnoxious to be around and too careless in their lifestyle. This, however, was worse than an addiction that only hurt them. They were neglectful. They were leaving their daughter to raise herself. All these years, She'd assumed that they provided for their daughter at least a bit. They had to at one point, right? How bad was it in that house?

Carolyn kept stroking the brush through Ocean’s hair, keeping her face as neutral as possible. “Really? Do you drive yourself?”

“Yeah,” Ocean said. She shrugged. “It’s okay. I like driving. It gives me control. Besides, my parents can’t.”

“Why not?”

“They’re too high. Besides, they don’t like using the car. It’s kind of a mess…”

“I see…”

The nurse wondered for a moment if Ocean was being so loose-tongued because of the drugs or if something else was at play. Carolyn looked at her face for a long moment as she brushed a longer section of hair. Ocean’s eyes were even redder than she’d initially realized. She had dark circles and an overall look of utter exhaustion. The poor thing looked like she was falling apart at the seams and messily trying to re-stitch them in real-time. Suddenly, she was falling behind and in more pieces than ever before. Carolyn felt a sense of responsibility towards Ocean that, deep down, she knew had nothing to do with being her nurse.

Carolyn ran her friends through Ocean’s hair to check how she was doing with it. “Do you want to tell me more about it?”

___

10 October 2009

Their room never stayed quiet and peaceful for a whole night.

Just as Noel had started falling, just as everything had started spinning, he was woken up by a sharp yell.

“Nee! Raak ze niet aan. Laat ze achter. Ik zal ze beschermen!”

Noel startled awake, sitting up a bit, but stopping when his back flared with pain. He heard a gasp and looked to his left to see Ricky rubbing their eyes to wake themself up. The boy looked to his right to see Misha tugging at the blanket, crying out loudly. Noel frowned and flinched as he screamed again.

“Я сломаю тебя! Останавливаться. Не смій заподіяти їм біль знову,” Misha cried out. He sounded angry . Noel knew how angry Misha was, but sounded ready to end lives.

Ricky started snapping. He made a clicking noise with his tongue. Noel looked over at him. Ricky snapped hard and pointed at Misha. Noel groaned as he pulled his feet to one side of the bed. He braced himself on a table and shifted over. He carefully reached and grabbed Misha, even though his back and shoulder were starting to hurt so badly that he could barely move his arm.

“Misha! Wake up,” he said. At this point, he was getting used to it. Not every dream was quite so rough, but not a single night had gone by without at least two of them having some sort of nightmare and waking from terror. The routine of trying to shake each other out of it (if they even could) was tiring but preferable to the fear of their subconscious.

“No, let me help!” Misha cried out. Noel shook his arm as firmly as he could, causing him to jolt awake. Misha flinched and whined, looking up at Noel. Shaking, Noel sat next to him. It still hurt so bad to be up. His back and shoulder felt like they were burning.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Noel said gently. “It was another night terror. Misha, look at me, you’re awake.”

Misha breathed heavily as he looked up at him. Noel could see in the faint light that he was still teary. Noel's hand hovered by his face before slowly placing it on Misha's cheek and wiping his now cold tears.

“I– I–” Misha swallowed. “Noel?”

“Yes,” Noel whispered.

“I–” Misha tried to breathe. “Ricky?”

“He's right here.” Noel turned around and pointed to Ricky with the hand that didn’t feel frozen by pain. Ricky gave Misha a sad look, one eyebrow raised.

“I– Then I am alright,” Misha said to him. He reached and grasped Noel's shoulder. He looked between the other two. “Are you alright?”

Ricky nodded, offering Misha a thumbs-up and weak smile.

“Good. добре.” Misha took a deep breath.

Noel smiled at him in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “I'm fine. I mean– I'm safe now.”

“You had nightmare too?”

Noel nodded. He glanced at Ricky, who nodded as well. Misha clenched his jaw and nudged Noel. “Get up.”

Noel stood, wincing as he shifted his arm. He whined and put his other hand on his shoulder to try and keep it still. “Shit– I think I reinjured my rib,” he muttered, getting back in bed and leaning back. He hissed, eyes filling with tears as he tried to stay quiet.

“Are you alright?” Misha asked as he came around Noel's bed and to the far side of Ricky's. “How badly does it hurt?”

“Badly.” Noel followed, turning his head to look at the others. “I’ll live.” He realized only after the words came out that that was the wrong thing to say. The boys all cringed at the ideas that the sentence stirred up. Noel shut his eyes, trying to relax his body again. “Don’t worry about me.”

Ricky moved to the side a bit, allowing Misha to properly rest against the back. They both frowned at Noel, but it was clear that the male didn’t really want to elaborate. Misha reached his good hand over and held it open to Ricky. “Do you want to talk about it? That is, uh, just try to, like, explain?”

The idea of giving his hand to someone else made Ricky suddenly tense up. He wanted comfort, but he didn’t want to give up the use of his hand. He wasn’t sure why it made him so uncomfortable, but he hated the idea of losing autonomy over it. Still… The anxiety and unease of the nightmare felt worse than what Misha was proposing.

Ricky slowly placed his hand flat over Misha's. He took a moment to relax, his anxiety melting as he reminded himself that this was Misha . He could trust Misha. They took a breath and moved their hand so their fingertips were pressed into Misha's palm. They pressed down and ran them up Misha's wrist and then made a repeated swirling motion until dragging it back down to Misha's palm. Misha frowned as Ricky squeezed it tight.

“Oh, Zirka…” Misha squeezed back, shutting his eyes. “I know… It was scary, but… you're safe. You’re safe. That's what matters… That’s all that matters.” Ricky smiled at him, squeezing his hand again.

It matters that you’re okay, though. I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so glad we’re all okay. I mean, I guess we’re not okay. But we’re alive. If we’re alive, we can become okay. I feel a lot more okay when you try to do this. You said you’d listen to me now, and even though I can’t talk, you are holding true to that. Even though you’re the one who just woke up screaming, you’re checking on us. You’re a really good friend, Misha Bachynskyi.

Ricky squeezed his hand yet again, more gently as his face softened.

I mean, I worry about you because who the hell wakes up from a night terror and refuses to talk about it as long as others are okay? I’m touched, but do you realize that we want to know what’s wrong? You don’t have to put on a front for us. You don’t have to have this gangsta persona to conceal the fact that you are a naked child wandering through the wilderness, holding in your hands your own wounded heart. After all we’ve been through, you should be open with us.

Ricky moved their joined hands so that they were pressed to Misha’s chest.

The Ukrainian sighed and nodded. “I’m alright, Ricky. I was more scared for you all than anything.” He squeezed Ricky’s hand. “Thank you.”

Ricky smiled. The fact that you understand me so well when all I can do is make vague gestures and facial expressions is touching. I’m so glad we’re alive so I can have a chance to actually be friends with you instead of you just being the one guy who didn’t treat me like I wasn’t there.

“Let’s go back to sleep, yeah?”

Yeah. Maybe if you’re here, we won’t have nightmares. Having the comfort of another human body is comforting. It’s actually scientifically proven to benefit people both psychologically and physically. That’s why I used to sleep covered in cats. They gave me all the cuddles I could ever want. I guess you’ll have to do for now.

Ricky leaned back with Misha, careful not to put their own weight on Misha’s casted arm. Their fingers twisted together, bringing the conversation to an end. Ricky sat for a while, listening to Noel’s breathing change as he fell asleep. Their head rested on Misha’s shoulder, and soon enough, Misha dozed off with his head on Ricky’s.

It reminded Ricky of the long moments right after the second crash, when the girls were unconscious on the ground, his and Misha’s arms were messily splinted by Noel with their belts, and they sat together against the tree, crying. They remembered seeing Noel staring at Misha, dazed. People were standing, pointing, gasping, and not doing anything to help. Noel was smiling softly, probably still shocked by the fear. He was smiling, wiping away his own tears, staring.

Ricky rubbed one finger back and forth on Misha's hand, quickly reminding himself when and where he was. Misha gently rubbed back.

___

12 October 2009

Constance giggled as she heard her little brother babble on and on about his day at preschool. Gosh, he was in preschool already. That was wild.

“And– And Sister Franklin told you to get better,” Wesley finished. He grinned up at her. “And all my friends say get better!”

Constance giggled, holding his hand. He was sitting next to her on the bed. There was space between them. He'd been good at staying still tonight. The first time he'd visited her awake, he'd gotten excited and bumped her in the side. Since then, he'd been extra careful. She didn't want to traumatize the kid, but she supposed that was one way to teach him self-control. “Oh, I will. Tell them I'm gonna get better. Maybe not super soon, but I will,” she told him. Wesley grinned at her. She sighed softly. “I'm not going anywhere, buddy.” Never again.

Constance glanced over at where her mother was quietly talking to Ocean. Ocean looked tired and stressed. They all were. Constance sure was. She was having nightmares. She dreamt every night about spinning around, trying to scream with her airways stuffed with cotton candy, trying to escape a porta potty and instead tripping and slamming into the front of the cart, dying while mad at Ocean, or her friends trying to get away from her while she laughed and they screamed and cried. She was sure Ocean was having nightmares. She just refused to talk about it with adults around.

Constance looked back at her brother. She couldn't talk about it, either. Not while Wesley was here. She would let it out when the nurses or Ocean listened. She refused to make this scarier for Wesley, though.

“When you get better, can we play again?” Wesley asked.

“Absolutely,” she told him, reaching with one hand and gently booping his nose. The first time she'd tried that, she'd accidentally smacked him in the face with her cast. He'd initially started crying hysterically but started laughing after calming down. She supposed that made them even. “I can't wait to play again. As soon as it doesn't hurt anymore, we'll play all the time!”

“Yay!”

“Yay!” Constance tried not to laugh too hard. She gazed at Wesley. He was so precious. There was really no way to describe how much she loved him. He was something pure, unadulterated, and loving. He hadn't seen the worst of the world. Even seeing her in a hospital bed, he was sweet and innocent.

“Is your face ever gonna heal?” he asked.

“Wes!” Their father frowned at him. Constance shrugged.

“Maybe. If not, that's okay,” the young girl said. “I'd rather look a little weird than…” She cleared her throat. “I'm sure they're not that bad.”

“They're kinda scary.”

Their father lifted Wesley onto his hip. “Hey! That's not nice.”

“Is it true?” Constance asked.

Her mother turned around. Ocean frowned. Ocean reached and grabbed the mirror on her commode. She offered it face-down to Constance, reminding her of how their teachers always handed them papers face-down when they failed a test.

She'd gone without looking in a mirror for almost a month. Even after she woke up and moved with Ocean, she'd avoided it. She didn't want to see something that would break her own heart. Now, though, knowing that Wesley had seen them and not been immediately horrified, she thought that, maybe, they weren't awful. He'd called them scary instead of screaming. For a four-year-old, that was a good sign.

Constance glanced at the mirror and back at Ocean. “It's uh… Those are gonna scar, Connie,” Ocean said quietly. Constance's mother took the mirror to pass it to her. “Are you-”

“I have to face it sometime,” Constance said. Just before she lifted the reflective surface to her face, she smirked. “Get it? Face it? See what I did there?”

Her parents chuckled at the bad joke. Ocean gave a concerned hum. She took a breath and lifted the glass to herself and–

She wouldn’t call them ‘scary,’ but seeing them sure was startling.

Constance stared at her lips for a moment. There were a few small marks at the center of her lips that must have been caused by her teeth. They were mostly healed. There was a visible mark, almost a wrinkle like in crushed velvet, but the color was only slightly lighter. Constance let her eyes wander her face. Her right eyebrow had a cut through it, and no hair came from it. It looked like an intentional, if jagged, eyebrow slit. One was right beneath her right eye, a couple on her left eyelid, and one huge one in the center of her forehead. Her glasses must have done a number on her when they smashed. Her nose was a whole other story. It was ever so slightly less wide than before, having been reshaped when it was broken. She knew they had to change it a bit to make sure she’d be able to breathe, so she was glad it wasn’t drastic. In fact, it was almost unnoticeable until she turned her head. It went out from her face more, but it was still her nose. There were visible marks over it from where the damage had gotten to her skin. The scars were messy looking on account of how jagged the cuts had originally been. The only clean one was on her columella, but that had been from the surgery. A few looked worse because they'd been mildly infected after the crash. Now, they were fine. They were just very obvious scars. The more Constance stared at her reflection, the less she looked like herself.

Maybe that was a good thing.

Constance didn't look like she used to. She looked like a messy, messed-up, awesome version of herself. She didn't look quite cute or perfect or even nice. She looked like a bit of a disaster, and she was . The scars would keep people from looking at her like some random, sweet, innocent girl. They'd look at her and think, “What the hell happened to her?” And she could tell them she survived a freak accident like the badass she was. Constance smiled to herself, and her heart soared. Her smile had a scar, but it was fundamentally the same. Her smile looked genuine and sweet, but now it was clearly the smile of a survivor.

“Huh…” She looked over at Ocean. “I think you're visibly the pretty one now.”

Ocean shook her head and leaned back against her bed. “You are pretty…” She argued softly. “You just look like you got slapped with a blender.”

“Neat,” Constance said, laughing softly. “And thanks.”

“... The heck do you mean ‘thanks–?’”

Her parents looked at one another before grinning. “Only you, Cece,” her mother said softly.

“I look like I got hooked by Captain Hook,” Constance said with a laugh. “My face looks like it fell through a pine tree.”

Her father snorted. “Where are you getting these from?”

“I look like I was bitch-slapped by a cat person.”

Ocean laughed despite herself. Her tired eyes gleamed with amusement at the vivid image it gave them both.

“What are you talking about?” Her mother raised an eyebrow at her. Her gaze flickered between both the girls as they tried not to laugh hard.

Constance was determined to keep this up until she ran out of similes and smiles. “I look like I narrowly escaped ninjas.”

___

Noel fell to the ground when he was pushed. He slammed against the wood floor, starting to cry immediately.

“Quit crying and walk it off.”

“Stop it!” Carolyn shouted, stepping between them. She threw her arms out. “Leave him alone-”

“If that’s what you want, fine!” The man grabbed her and shoved her down as well. Carolyn gasped and took Noel into her arms. “You want me to leave him alone!?”

Carolyn turned to protect Noel with her own body, sneering. “Yes! I want you to leave him alone if you’re going to treat him like this.”

“I wouldn’t treat him like this if he wasn’t a fucking disgrace,” the man spat.

“Enough, Pierre! This is my son,” she said, sitting up a little straighter. “You have no right to hurt my son.”

Pierre scoffed. “Fine! If you don’t want me to leave him alone, I’ll leave you both! Would you be happy with that?”

Carolyn’s eyes widened. She knew the situation she’d be put in without Pierre, but it was now or never. She clutched Noel closer to her chest. “Yes, very!”

That gave him pause. He quickly rebounded, his eyes filled with fire. “You know you’re damned without me, woman!” Pierre roared.

“Then let me be damned and get out of my house!” Carolyn shouted. She let go of Noel with one arm to point. “There’s the door!”

Pierre stomped over and grabbed her by the hair. Carolyn let go of Noel and pushed him away so he wouldn’t get caught in this. She stood with the way she was dragged, hands flying up to guard her throat. She blocked him just in time. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You really think you’ll be better off without me? You’ll be calling, begging me to come back when you’re left with that damned boy, your debt, and nobody else. You don’t have your parents or your big brother to go cry to. Do you think you’ll be better without me?”

Carolyn glared darkly, jaw tight. Pierre dropped her, and she stumbled against the wall and stared up at him. He spat on her face and turned towards the door.

“Then you can rot here with your pitiful excuse of a son,” Pierre said. As he opened the door, Noel rushed over to him, grabbing at his coat.

“No!” The boy started sobbing again.

“Noel, don’t!”

“No, Daddy, stop! We need you!” Noel shouted, tugging at the man’s coat to try and stop him.

“Apparently not,” Pierre sneered. Carolyn rushed over to Noel, but not before he was slapped so hard he fell over. Before she could retaliate, the door slammed. A picture of the family fell off the wall and shattered on the floor.

Carolyn sighed with relief as it washed over her. All her anger and fear rolled off her back like rain off a duck. She turned to Noel, ready to care for his injuries. She was a nurse, after all. She was even in her scrubs now. She looked down at Noel-

Only to see him pale, cold, and bloody. His head was open and metal was stuck in his chest.

Carolyn’s hands flew over her mouth, and she screamed and shot up, sweating.

14 October 2009

She gasped a few times, trying to shake that awful image from her mind once again. It was soon replaced with a very alive Noel crying in a hospital bed.

Carolyn took a few deep breaths, her hands shaking as she clutched the blankets. She stared ahead into the darkness, feeling the tears continue flowing down her face and neck. She pulled her knees to her chest and brushed her hair back.

She wasn’t in the living room. She was at the hospital, in one of the on-call rooms, luckily alone.

Noel was alive. Noel would be fine. Things were never going back to the way they were, but he was alive. Why did she keep seeing the same horrid image? Why were her sleeping hours haunted by that same image of her dead son? A month after the accident, she was still awfully distraught.

One terrible thought after another shuffled through the front of her mind. The image of her brother dead before her eyes made her groan and start sobbing softly. If she’d just, even jokingly, told him not to drive that night… She wished every day she could go back and stop what happened. She could have, should have stopped it. Carolyn gripped the blanket angrily as she wished she could have done something to stop what happened to Noel. She pictured Ocean sitting in that hospital bed, all broken and exhausted; the usual determination was lost from her eyes. If Carolyn didn’t know any better, she’d think Ocean was about to give up. All she wanted to do was take those two and hold them close and keep them safe. If she could, she’d take all their trauma and burdens and carry them herself because she knew how to cope. They were children who did not deserve to be forced to learn those skills. God, she wished she lived in a different timeline– one where the kids hadn't suffered so awfully. Why did she have to be in the worst-case-scenario timeline? She could think of few situations worse than this. Tears silently streamed down her face as she faced her helplessness.

Chapter Text

24 September 2009

“Thank you so much.”

Carolyn let the call end and sat there on her couch for a solid three minutes just staring at the table.

She’d done the right thing.

Carolyn felt her stomach twist from how anxious she was. Except no, she wasn't anxious, because what she was instead was hungry. Taking a deep breath, she stood up to get herself a sandwich or something. She slowed to a stop as she passed a picture of herself holding Noel when he was a baby. Smiling to herself, she let herself just stare at the photo and remember that day. She’d spent the whole night chatting with her brother about becoming a mom. He had never wanted children but was more than happy to be there to spend time with her baby.

The picture next to it was one of Jacques himself crouching next to a five-year-old Noel. They were in the snow, next to a complete catastrophe of a snowman that they were both so proud of. That picture was from the Christmas of ninety-seven. Jacques had come over to be with them, albeit against Pierre’s objections. Carolyn was glad he had. He had cooked for them his famous turkey stew and left Noel with the coolest journal set ever. To this day, Noel still hadn't finished filling them. He used them only for the final drafts of his best poems. Noel had taken his writing to heart since that Christmas.

That was the last time he'd been with Noel.

Frowning, Carolyn pulled herself from reminiscence and went to the kitchen and took something from the fridge. She had been staying at the hospital most nights for the past several weeks. There was nothing to come home to. There wasn’t even a whole lot of food to worry about expiring. In fact, she’d been taking home anything leftover that her coworkers didn’t want from office deliveries. She hadn’t had the energy to cook.

Catching her reflection in the cabinet, Carolyn’s eyes widened. Hell, she looked tired. Her hair was a mess, her eyes had dark circles, and she could vow that her cheeks were thinner. Running her fingers through her hair and using a scrunchie to keep it back, she pushed up a soft smile, the type she used at the hospital. When she looked back at her reflection, she looked more like herself. She looked something closer to lively. She knew that if she had makeup on, she’d look like she didn’t cry every night with worry and grief.

So she'd be fine.

She microwaved a container of whatever it was and leaned on the counter, letting her smile fall. That required energy, so why do it while she was alone?

It occurred to her, suddenly, that she kept a lot of pictures around. She wasn’t wealthy by any means, but Carolyn liked to think that her life was enriched with meaning. To her, nothing was more meaningful than giving Noel a good life. She smiled at the picture of Noel and Constance together on their first day of kindergarten. Darlene and Scott had the same one in their entryway. There was one picture of a Christmas craft day, where Noel was busy making a reindeer. A little plate of snacks was set next to him, covered in pastries and candy. The Blackwood Cafe had catered the childrens’ event. As Carolyn looked more closely, she realized the candy cane had been sucked on one end until it was sharp. Noel had tried to jab Ocean with it later, Carolyn remembered with a small laugh. Above that picture was a class picture from middle school. They’d had Ricky sit on the floor, since they didn’t want his crutches or wheelchair in the picture. Carolyn hadn’t been happy to hear that, but it wasn’t her place to say. To make it look more normal, a few other kids had been placed next to him. Noel was among those kids, right on his left, a big smile plastered across his face. Constance was holding his hand, grinning so brightly she looked silly. Next to her was Ocean, hands folded in her lap neatly, a nice smile on her face. It looked too nice to be real.

Carolyn’s eyes focused on Ocean’s younger self, her face, her hair, her whole demeanor. It was not long before this that she’d started straightening her hair. Carolyn frowned as she thought of how many times she must have burned herself learning how to do that. Her smile was far too fake, pretty, and rehearsed for a girl her age. With a nasty jolt, Carolyn realized that it was the same smile she had always used when days got tough. The same plastic smile that she used just to seem less tired. She was trying so hard to put on some sort of show and hide what was going on.

Carolyn thought back to the girl in the hospital. She wasn’t trying to hide anything. She was so visibly, openly, falling apart. It broke Carolyn’s heart to see her, hear her come apart and confess so calmly to the way things were at home. For a moment, Carolyn wondered if Ocean had registered at all what telling her nurse meant.

The microwave beeped, snapping her out of her thoughts. Carolyn grabbed her food. Apparently, it was stew that someone had brought in. She didn’t have the energy to think of who or why, but she was certain enough that it was safe to eat.

Sitting down at the table, the woman poked a spoon into the stew.

She had done the right thing. She had done what was moral. She had done what was legally required of her. She had done what she was supposed to. It was out of her hands now.

Carolyn ate in silence, having to force down every spoonful as her stomach churned with worry.

When she was done, she dropped her container in the sink and looked back at the pictures. Her eyes fell on Ocean yet again. She had done all that she was supposed to as Ocean’s nurse. She’d reported her suspicions of neglect, so this was out of her hands. All she had to do for Ocean now was make sure she bathed. That was her job, her only responsibility.

Still…

Carolyn stared at the picture, wondering why, if she had done the right thing, she felt so guilty. Logically, she knew she had nothing to do with Ocean’s situation. Logically, she knew she had no place to do anything else. Ocean didn’t have to feel like her responsibility.

Turning away, Carolyn tried to leave the situation behind and go to bed. That would be difficult, because what she knew, all that she knew, was within her. It was bubbling to the surface, and deep down, she knew she’d never be able to ignore it again.

___

“I've decided that the one who gets to return will be the student with the highest GPA.”

“What!?”

Ocean felt her arms and legs being pulled back. She tugged against them. “No. No, we are going to abide by the original agreement!” Ocean insisted, stomping. She looked over at Karnak. “You can't–”

“Time is of the essence.”

“I had my life. We all– They haven’t– Please, no!”

“Ocean, you bitch!” Noel shouted, putting protective hands on Constance's shoulders.

Ocean felt her feet drag across the concrete. She leaned forward, away from the bright blue light from behind the curtain. “No! I'm not doing this!”

“This is just like you,” Mischa spat, crossing his arms and turning away.

“I didn't choose this!”

Ricky sneered, his face full of malice Ocean didn't know he was capable of. “To think I had faith in you.”

“I would never do it.”

“Do what?”

“Choose myself,” Ocean argued.

“You chose yourself?” Jane Doe asked softly, blinking slowly.

“No! I didn't. I didn't!” Ocean shouted, trying to pull up her feet. It was like they were stuck in pitch.

“Ocean…” Ocean and Constance locked eyes. Constance's voice broke. “How could you...?”

Light enveloped Ocean as she tried to reach out to them with one hand. “No!”

25 September 2009

“No!” Ocean shouted as she jerked awake, lighting her whole chest on fire. She whimpered and laid back, trying to force her breathing to be more shallow as she waited for the pain to recede. She glanced around frantically, her eyes getting pricked with new tears. “No…”

The others. How could she leave them? No, she hadn’t left them. She hadn’t chosen that. She wasn’t gonna… How could she choose? It wasn’t fair that it be left up to her because of her frickin’ GPA. The others deserved to choose, too.

Ocean felt crushing loneliness as she panted, the pain receding. How could this happen? She didn’t want them to die. She had no right to be the one to make that call. Tilting her head back, she let the tears drip down messily. She was-

“Ocean?”

Ocean looked over at the voice, seeing Constance in the dim light. Ocean sat up a bit, her back shrieking in protest. “Constance?”

Everything slammed back into her memory. She hadn’t chosen anyone. Instead, she had been cowardly. Ocean cursed herself because in reality, she hadn’t abandoned them. Instead, she’d been a coward, and nearly let them all down. No thanks to her, they’d all been thrown back to life in a whirlwind of agony and terror. The rollercoaster, the crash again , the hospital. Now the choir was alive, but at what cost?

“Ocean…”

“How could you?”

The nightmare echoed in Ocean’s mind, and she chose to ignore it. In front of her was the real Constance, who, for whatever ridiculous reason, was willing to stand by her and choose forgiveness. The successful girl felt bitter all over her tongue. Ocean was honestly disappointed in Constance for not abandoning her when she had every opportunity. She should have grown a backbone sooner, saved herself. She should have shoved Ocean away in the warehouse.

“Ocean, are you okay?” Constance asked softly. Her voice didn’t cut into Ocean’s thoughts, but rather hugged them suddenly. She put on her glasses to help her see in the meager lighting. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“What?” Ocean whispered, the rest of her thoughts trapped in her head. Too tired to figure out her own thoughts, she sniffed and stared at Constance.

Constance’s hair moved. “I get nightmares, too. I find myself in the warehouse, eternally pulled every which way. Or I’m on the ride… but my lungs are full of cotton candy or I’m puking beer. I can’t scream. Sometimes, everything is completely normal, and I think we’re all going to go home like nothing ever happened. Then I notice that Jane– Penny has a doll head or that Ricky is talking and walking with me.” She shivered, sitting back. “I can only imagine what the others dream about…”

Ocean sincerely wished that the Constance she had known in her head for years was the real one. What she wouldn’t give to have Constance be sweet and oblivious and safe from all of this. What she wouldn’t do to let Constance just be some dumb girl eating cupcakes in her hometown instead of handling nightmares. Who she wouldn’t ruin to avenge her best friend, who was dealing with some of the worst trauma imaginable.

Constance looked back at her. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

Ocean shook her head, hugging the spare pillow she’d been given. She sat back and let herself cry quietly. “No… But thanks.”

Constance was silent for a minute. If Ocean didn’t know any better, she would have assumed that she’d just gone back to sleep. Unfortunately, Constance was too wise for that. Ocean closed her eyes and tried to ignore everything, wishing for a long moment that she had been able to save everyone but herself.

“Okay… If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” Constance said, her tone lightly dusted with figurative sugar. Ocean felt her heart twist. She had done everything to deserve everything she had in life, except Constance. She would never deserve Constance.

___

27 September 2009

Penny watched quietly as Ezra put on a little puppet show with a doll, which looked eerily familiar, and a stuffed monkey. Whenever he came to visit, he put on little puppet shows. He told her they’d be different than normal, but that didn’t matter to her since she didn’t know what his puppets normally did. Ezra used the dolls to tell Penny about their childhood. Little stories of mischief they got into. They were mostly simple retellings of childhood games, Christmases, and other happy things. Last time, he’d told the story of how they snuck away from home and went to Legoland, which was apparently where they were now. It was anywhere but where they’d been born. Ezra talked about Legoland with so much wonder, but all Penny knew was this Legoland. She wondered if where she had been, that warehouse, had been something else.

Maybe she’d ask him later.

Anyways, the story. Apparently, four years ago, Penny and Ezra had snuck away from home and gone to a local Walmart. They’d gotten into mischief there, causing scenes so people would pay attention to them, show them compassion. Penny understood that, seeing as she would do anything right now for a sense of anything. But that was why Ezra was here. He walked her through her own existence, explaining their life on a farm called Elysium before they moved to Uranium City.

Ezra paused after talking about their families getting arrested and being sent to new homes. Penny thought she should be sad, but she wasn’t. She didn’t have any connection to those people and, try as she might, couldn’t even remember their faces.

“Ezra?”

“Yes?” he responded, looking up at her. The monkey and doll sagged in his hands.

“What are our parents like?”

Ezra hummed and started staring at the wall again. “They were kind. They… taught us about agriculture and astronomy.” Penny searched her brain for every memory of it. She couldn’t find anything. She searched as far back as her mind could go, but was met with flipping frantically, falling her head slamming into something and breaking, tearing off– “They were usually doped up. We spent a lot of time alone, playing in our rooms. Thing is, when Elysium was busted for drug trafficking, our parents got charged with child neglect, too. Had their rights taken away…” Ezra kind of started zoning out, and Penny frowned.

“Did they neglect us?” she asked quietly, remembering flashes of the stories she’d heard in the warehouse.

Ezra shrugged. “Not really, but maybe? I wouldn’t call it neglect. They gave us food and kept us clean. They let us learn on our own. They let us do whatever we wanted. They didn’t notice the first thirty-six times we snuck out, though…”

Suddenly, Penny wasn’t sure how much she wanted to remember.

“They never really hid anything from us. We were allowed to wander around the farms, try smoking, and read whatever we wanted. It was really happy back there. But it’s far more interesting out here in Legoland,” Ezra said, looking back at her.

“Do you miss them?” Penny asked, scanning over his face. Ezra’s eyes, which were a brownish green color, met hers.

“I missed you more,” he told her. Penny wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Ezra spent the next several minutes with an assortment of toys, focusing on the monkey and doll. He played out how a group of Barbies ignored the doll, no matter what she tried. They barely looked at her face. When she asked her social worker, a little mannequin, about it, she was met with pills. The social worker had prescribed her all sorts of things himself and made sure she took them. That caused the poor doll to go quiet and stick to herself. She had stayed in her room most of the time, not even letting the monkey come in a lot of the time. Ezra did a quick depiction of the doll sobbing, throwing up, and tugging at her hair. “I won’t actually tug at her hair, though. I know this doll is precious to you.” Was it? Penny couldn’t recall. The doll went through the next couple of years like this, until they were sent to another foster family a year ago. The doll was sixteen, and the monkey thirteen, when they were brought to Uranium City. For months, they both stayed on the down low, only ever eating lunch with each other. They didn’t have any friends or do anything. They just planned to run away as soon as the doll was an adult. Occasionally, the monkey would sell their pills so they could save up money, but their biggest priority was not getting caught. Besides, there was no college in Uranium, and the college students in their previous town had been their biggest customers. When the new school year started, the doll was asked to join a choir, who were represented by a hastily-assembled group of plastic soldiers. She’d been placed there so hastily that it wasn’t even official when they were sent to a big competition.

The pieces clicked like Legos in Penny’s mind, and she looked at Ezra with wide eyes. “That’s when the accident happened.” Ezra gazed at her for a moment, as though trying to piece together the same Legos she had. Before she could tell if he could tell, the door opened.

A man stood there, looking at his phone and quickly glancing at Ezra. “Time’s up. Let’s go, kid.”

“But I was just about to–”

“Five words. Is that too much for you to understand? Time’s. Up. We’re. Leaving,” the guy said. Penny didn’t know much, but she knew she didn’t want that jerk around her brother.

Ezra sighed and began picking up his toys to shove into his backpack. He picked up the baby doll, but instead extended his arm to Penny. “She’s yours. You should keep her.”

Penny took the doll with both hands, the weight feeling almost familiar. “She’s mine?”

“Yeah. Had her since you were little. You even had her with you the day of the accident. Father Markus was keeping her for you but gave her back when he saw me at school.”

She’d been holding it in the warehouse.

“Don’t you remember your Dolly?”

She had used this very head. The doll was just like she had been: worn out, having no eyes, cracked porcelain face, and curly blonde hair.

“Come on, kid.”

Penny ran her fingers over the cracks on the doll’s face. Relief and comfort filled her body. Even when she was a Jane Doe, some tiny part of her was there. Maybe she’d had her soul the whole time. At least some tiny part of it.

“Penny?”

Penny looked up at Ezra, her vision suddenly blurry with tears. “My Dolly?”

“Yes,” Ezra said as he stood up. “She can keep you company while I’m not here. She’ll keep away those nasty begbugs and any nurses who try to act like perverts.”

Penny watched him back out, fixing the straps of his backpack. “Will she watch me through the night like an owl, barely blinking and scaring ignorant people without being a genuine threat?”

“Sure,” he said. At the doorway, he asked, “Do owls even blink?”

“Yes, but their blinks last about three hundred milliseconds and only occur about once a minute,” Penny informed him, looking back at her doll’s blank eyes.

Ezra laughed, a dull tone. “That’s typical Penny.” He waved to her as the social worker pulled him the rest of the way out and shut the door.

Penny stared at the doll for another minute and pulled it to her chest in a gentle hug.

Chapter Text

14 September 2009

Father Louis P. Markus stood with a few other teachers. He looked off in the direction of the entrance. He’d told the kids to meet him there at six thirty. He had a feeling they would be there at the last second, if not a bit late. He also had a feeling he’d have to rush over and break up a fight the moment they did arrive. None of the students got along exceptionally well. Noel and Ocean fought like crazy, but they never went beyond petty insults. The closest pairing in the group was probably the one between Constance and Noel, but they weren’t a strong influence on the others. Louis sighed and looked back at Claire as she spoke to him.

“You teach them so well,” she said with a smile. “I’m surprised you can get them to behave.”

“Except Misha,” Andrew added. He huffed. “He was looking at his phone through almost the entire concert. I’m telling you, that one will never get whipped into shape.”

Louis pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and let out a small breath. He had to keep his temper. He looked at his watch. It was six ten. He only had to put up with this for a short while before the bus came to get the kids.

He hated it when other students talked about his students like they were hopeless. This particular group was difficult. As the very small chamber choir, they attracted much attention. Most of it was negative. He knew they were all treated unkindly. It was a mixture of being ignored, picked on, and straight-up getting beat up sometimes. On top of that, he had a feeling that the home lives of the kids were less than ideal. The last thing they needed was for their teachers to give up on them.

“Misha does just fine. Oh yes, I would prefer he use his phone less, but he’s a good enough kid, you know,” he said with a smile. His rosy cheeks felt tight from how forced it was. “He’s gotten better since he joined the choir! Even has a few friends now.”

Claire hummed. “Wasn’t he placed in the choir as punishment?”

“Ahhh…” Louis glanced at his watch again. Maybe the kids would come back sooner? “Technically it was to expose him to a positive environment and influence.” He laughed awkwardly.

“I’m sure it’s working,” Andrew said quietly. “He’s friends with Constance Blackwood, yes? She’s a nice girl. Might help him settle down, mellow out.”

Yes, because Constance was so mellow. Louis was becoming even more certain that none of the teachers knew a thing about her. They’d clearly never heard her unhinged laugh when Misha made an admittedly clever sex joke. They’d never seen her walk into a room and immediately punch a wall before pretending it never happened.

“Constance is a good kid, but she has her mother’s shyness and her father’s intelligence. It’s a shame, really,” Claire commented. “She could have had so much potential, but look at her now. Her parents never gave her aspiration.”

“That’s obvious,” Andrew said quietly. He sighed and shook his head. “Her grades are disappointing. You’d think, being friends with Miss Rosenberg, she’d get better, but alas.”

Claire frowned and nodded. “All she’ll ever do is be at that bakery, eating pastries. Just look at her. The poor thing has always been too chunky. Has Scott ever given her a vegetable?”

Louis shuffled awkwardly. He knew for a fact that Scott Blackwood was the finest cook in Uranium, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew that Constance was fed plenty of healthy food. She, quite possibly, ate better than anyone else in her class on account of the attention her parents paid to her. She was more on the heavy side, but what did it matter when she was being cared for properly? Wasn’t that a blessing, not something to shame her and her family over?

He looked at his watch. Six twelve. Oh, the seconds needed to be faster!

“Oh, haha. If anything, Misha is closer to Noel,” Louis corrected, trying to redirect the conversation in a more positive direction. He heard the screams of giddy excitement from the roller coaster as another group was sent on it. He glanced in the direction of it, seeing only the high-up loop-de-loop in all its glory. “Don’t know that I’ve ever seen them fight. That’s a good sign, doncha think?”

Claire frowned, her lip curling. “Oh? That’s… They don’t… They’re not…” She glanced around to make sure nobody was two close. “You don’t think their relationship is sexual, do you?”

“That would be a shame. Noel can’t go around corrupting other young boys,” Andrew muttered.

“Jinkies, Claire! The very thought is revolting.” How could she worry about that? How dare she assume the worst just from hearing that the two were friends? Who was she to worry about the sex lives of teenagers? Louis didn’t believe that anyone their age should be having those relations, but it wasn’t his business. So long as his students were safe, he’d let them be. Their friendship was endearing to him. While he suspected that Noel may be developing feelings, he tried not to think about that.

“I know it is. That’s why I’m concerned,” Claire said softly, as though she were thinking of how to approach a student who had handed her a suicide note.

Louis had his own ideas. He did not believe homosexuality was natural. It was not as God had originally intended. Still, he couldn’t stomach the thought that Noel, who was an objectively darling boy, should be hated or punished for it. Love was a pure thing. Why should same-sex love be sinful? Why should Noel suffer for something it was clear he had no say in?

Louis watched the cart of the coaster jump the gap at the top of the loop. Laughter blasted from the group. “Misha’s also nice to Richard,” he said, looking back and trying to pull the conversation in a different direction.

Andrew made a noise of concern. “You really trust that boy around Richard?” he asked. “The kid is so delicate. If Misha ever lost his temper around him… Oh, I’d hate to think what he’d do to him.”

Claire hummed in agreement. “I don’t think it was a good idea to put Misha so close to Richard. He’s so innocent. Misha could be dangerous to him, not to mention a horrible influence.”

Okay, Richard Potts was the farthest thing from innocent that Louis had ever met. He had once thought of Ricky as a sweet kid who didn’t have friends. He often looked so lonely. He’d approached him one day, offering to do anything to make him feel better. He’d thought that he really needed it. The note Ricky had handed him made him realize that Richard Potts had a whole other personality just hidden away. Since that day, he’d tried talking to Ricky more. When asked, the boy even showed him his notebook, which was full of spectacular and, to put it in respectable terms, often intimate drawings. Ricky loved space, cats, space cats, apparently , and had what was probably the most lustful mind in Uranium. Louis had never dared to look in that journal again but had left that interaction with a deeper understanding of who the kid was behind those far-off, hazel eyes. They rarely conversed, but Louis could tell that Ricky trusted him a great deal.

He held back a glare. “Ha, you’d be surprised,” he said, not wanting to tell them otherwise out of respect for Ricky’s privacy. “Misha is always kind to the little buddy. He’s a good kid, when it comes down to it. He’s not violent.”

“Are you sure? He was always hanging out with the Ross kid last year,” Claire said. She bit her lip. “I have a feeling they were connected with a gang or something.”

“Hopefully Ocean has been a better influence,” Andrew said with a smile. “She’s an awfully bright kid. She might even make it farther than the college near Rapid City.”

“Oh, yes. Ocean is so intelligent and well-behaved,” Claire said, one hand on her heart. “She always has something to add to class. She’s a good girl. Absolutely my favorite student from last year.”

Ocean was indeed bright and well-behaved. She was also extremely rude to her classmates and a bit over-confident in her higher singing range. Louis always tried to gently direct her in the direction of being nicer, but that was difficult when she was so controlling. He was thinking of different approaches, but he knew he had to be careful. He didn’t want her to crash down. Her anxiety could be awful, and if it went inward, who knows the damage she could do to herself?

Louis just listened as his coworkers spoke about his students, internally correcting them on almost everything. He had never been confrontational. Maybe that was why the choir had such a hard time getting along. Maybe if he spoke up more or enforced discipline, they’d start working through things on their own. He just didn’t want to take the enjoyment of choir from them. Granted, they didn’t seem to love it. They were there for a variety of reasons. Ocean was there to show off and look good on applications. Constance was there to keep Ocean company. Noel was there to keep Constance sane. Ricky was there because the school thought it made them look inclusive. Misha was there to straighten out his behavior. Penny had been placed in the choir just last week as a way to make her socialize. Louis could tell that she was depressed and quite possibly ill. He’d given her the music to learn for the concert, glad that she was a soprano and could therefore learn the melody quickly. She’d barely showed up to rehearsal before showing up for competition.

Oh, the competition. Louis had never seen that group happier than coming back from the competition not even an hour ago. They were proud of themselves. They were smiling at one another. Even Misha looked semi-interested. They’d gone off to go on more rides before they had to leave, Ocean loudly making sure everyone slowed down enough for Ricky to keep up. He hoped that their togetherness had lasted for more than a few minutes.

He looked at his watch. Six seventeen. He groaned internally and looked up at Claire and Andrew, wishing something would happen to break him from this conversation.

“Louis, are you even-”

The sounds of blood-curdling screams rang through the park. He jumped at the sound. He could pick Ocean’s shriek in the group. He looked over at the roller coaster. He wasn’t surprised they were going on it. It was Constance’s favorite. She loved that ride. He was surprised Ocean had been convinced to get on. As their screams died down a bit, he frowned. They didn’t sound excited…

“Geez, it’s just a ride,” Claire said with a grimace. “Teenagers… Louis, you’re honestly brave for trying to handle-”

“Oh hush.” Louis ignored her, turning to better see the roller coaster from here. The sounds weren’t joyful. They were terrified. He barely heard laughter. Something was wrong. Was he sure he heard Ocean?

“What’s your deal?” Andrew asked. Louis gestured vaguely in that direction.

Something that sounded like “help” came from the area.

That was definitely Ocean. Louis started walking in that direction. He had a sinking feeling in his gut. He prayed that he was mistaken and decided to go look for his kids.

“Where are you going?”

“To find my students. We need to go.” He couldn’t explain to them this sudden dread. He had no proof that he heard Ocean’s voice, but he couldn’t deny how wrong their screams sounded. The other two followed after him, eyeing him like he was crazy.

“Louis?”

As he got closer, he heard the echoing of five familiar voices. Actual words hit his ears with a clarity that shocked him. They weren’t mindless screams. He couldn’t make out what they were, but he heard words. Some of them weren’t even English. Misha- Oh, dear God above, those were his students. He stared up at the track, seeing the cart approach the loop.

Terror filled Louis as he watched the cart shoot off the track. The screaming stopped, but laughter could faintly be heard from somewhere. In his mind, the cart spat bright sparks in every direction and then launched off course, spinning out of control. He blinked once and saw it instead hit the track. After a short moment, the renewed screams snapped him out of it. He stumbled back, gasping.

Claire and Andrew pushed into his vision. “Louis, calm down, you’re going to trigger yourself,” Claire said, pushing him back. “What’s going on?”

“What was that about?” Andrew asked. “What in the name of God got into you just now?”

“You went pale.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

A high-pitched cry for help shot through his ears. Louis tried to push Andrew but was too shaky. He stared at them for a moment, unable to put into words the awful vision he’d just had. He swallowed and shook his head. After a moment, metal screeched. The screaming of his students stopped abruptly. Within an instant, the shouts and gasps of several men and women filled the air. Claire and Andrew turned to look. Louis started to push past them when he heard something slam and crunch. There was loud scraping and then a crash. People were shouting. A security officer ran past. Louis started walking after him, praying to God for the safety of everyone nearby.

He was going more slowly than he would have liked, held back by his shock and fear. Claire and Andrew rushed forward. When he finally approached, Claire and Andrew screamed and held him back. “No! Don’t even look!”

“What happened?”

“Spare your eyes!” Andrew begged.

“What’s going on?”

“Ohhh my Father in Heaven,” Claire started muttering.

Louis pushed her to the side and looked through the crowd. He gasped and clutched his heart as he saw a bathroom building with some smoke coming up from it. Six limp bodies sat in the wreckage.

The next however long it really was went by in a blur. He stared ahead even when his view was blocked. At some point, he saw everyone laying or sitting by a tree. The next thing he knew, he was watching as his students were pulled into ambulances. He watched as three gurneys were pushed into the vehicles. A wheelchair was lifted into another. Ricky… “No!”

He pushed Claire weakly and tried to approach the ambulances. “Noel, Misha…” He felt everything in him get cold as the vehicles rushed away. “Ocean, Constance…” He shook his head in disbelief, barely breathing out, “Penny…”

___

“Louis, calm down, they’ll be alright,” Martha whispered to him in a soft voice, rubbing his arm. “They’ll be just fine. Listen to me, they’ll be fine.”

He sat awake past one in the morning, still haunted by the vision he’d had at the fair. He gasped, unable to respond. His wife begged him softly to calm down, but that was beyond impossible. He was worried and horrified, and he felt colder than ever.

Martha squeezed his arm. “Louis, please rest. Stressing out won’t help you. It won’t help them. Please, I’m begging you to sleep.” She turned to face him, her graying hair shone in the waning moonlight that trickled through the window. “Louis…”

“I- Ack-”

His breathing picked up. Oh, God, his chest hurt.

“Louis, are you listening to me?”

Every breath felt tight. He gasped in some air, the left side of his chest clenching. It seeped into his stomach and shoulder and-

He pushed away Martha’s hand, gasping. She jerked away. “Did I hurt you?”

He barely shook his head.

“What’s going on? Louis?” Martha’s eyes widened when he gasped at her. “Louis?!”

“Heh- Help-”

Penny’s screams for help echoed in his mind.

“Oh God! Louis!”

For a while there, he was floating in bright light, free of any negative sensation in existence. Then, he was thrown back into his body, heart spasming and failing. Then, it was painless, and he was lying in his bed, next to Martha.

He shot awake, hand clutching his chest over his heart. He took a moment to breathe, the feeling of his heart stressing itself to the point of failure fresh it his mind. It felt so real , so… It faded, and the fear began to subside. Martha took his hand and muttered, “Louis… Try t' sleep.” He lied next to her and tried. He, honest to God, tried. He didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

___

The next morning, Martha drove him to the hospital near Rapids City. She had protested at first, insisting he try and rest. It took a few hours, but Louis managed to convince her otherwise. Resting would do nothing but leave him with his anxieties and fears. He couldn’t rest not knowing whether they were alright. The only thing that was keeping him in any sort of calm right now was knowing they couldn’t all be dead. They couldn’t be.

Martha held his hand as they entered the hospital, squeezing it tightly as they went up to the front desk. Rather unceremoniously, he leaned on the counter. “The students,” he said softly. “I need to see them.”

The receptionist blinked, looking at him in confusion. She was frozen, hand halfway to her coffee. “Um- Excuse me?” She abandoned her coffee and folded her hands in front of her keyboard. “Who are you?”

“Louis Markus,” he told her, squeezing Martha’s hand firmly. “Father Markus at St. Cassian’s Catholic School. The students that were brought in last night. They’re mine.”

“Father,” the receptionist repeated, frowning. She quickly pulled up something on her computer. “Are- Are you the grandparent of one of the students? I don’t-”

“I’m their director,” he clarified. “A teacher at their school. They were under my care at the time of the accident. I have to see them-”

“Louis,” Martha said calmly. She tugged his arm back as she turned to the receptionist. “Hi, Krista, is it?” The receptionist reflexively covered her nametag. “I’m sorry my husband seems a bit frantic. He’s the teacher of those students. He was up all of last night, worried sick about them. If you could let us-”

“I’m sorry, nobody outside of immediate family is allowed to visit right now,” Krista said. She folded her hands again. “I wish I could do more.”

“Can’t you at least tell me how they’re doing?” Louis pressed on, gripping the counter so that his knuckles turned white. “Please, I have to know that they’re alright.”

“We have privacy policies,” Krista told them, shaking her head and casting her eyes to her hands. “I… I cannot tell you anything, sir, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t– Please understand that–”

“I understand,” Krista interrupted, her voice soft. “By law , I cannot tell you anything without the consent of the patients’ parents. If–”

“No! No, please,” Louis begged in a whisper. “I– I have to– I have to know–”

“Louis,” Martha said softly, putting a hand on his chest to pull him back. The feeling of his heart failing flashed through him again. He let go of the counter, tearing up as he tried to think of something he could say to convince Krista to let them in, let him check on his students.

“I would do anything to be able to see them,” he said, more to God than anyone else. “Whatever I need to do, let me be with them.” Those words sounded oddly familiar, and his heart twisted painfully at the thought.

Krista’s eyes began to shine. “If there was anything I could–”

“Father Louis?”

Louis looked over to see a nurse standing there, leaning on the counter. Her cheeks were stained with dry tears, eyes red and dark. She pushed her dark hair back, smiling tiredly.

“Carolyn!”

She rushed over and he pulled her into a hug, his meaty arms capturing her in a firm yet gentle embrace. Even though she was an adult now, she still felt so small in his arms. Even as he pulled back and her face was level with his, she looked like a scared child.

“You’re here for the kids,” she stated, getting straight to the point. She pulled back, squeezing his shoulder. “Come with me.”

“Nurse Gruber,” Krista said, standing. “You can’t just–”

“I am working with their case. I’m making a call right now, so give Mr. and Mrs. Markus a visitor’s pass, please .”

Krista shook her head. “Nurse Gruber, I can’t. Only parents–”

“One of those children was my son,” Carolyn whispered fiercely, though she showed no malice. “Look me in the eyes and deny me this. I’m allowing him to come back.” She pointed down the hall. “Besides, we have a Jane Doe in the ICU, and we need to know who she is as soon as possible. You might be the only person who can do that.”

The receptionist reached to grab two passes, even as she whispered, “You know you can’t–”

“ Shouldn’t ,” Carolyn corrected. “Can. Will. Am.”

Sighing, Krista quickly administered the passes and wished them luck before returning to her paperwork or whatever it was.

Louis and Martha quickly followed Carolyn back, ignored by the doctors and nurses running to tend to their own problems. Martha seemed tense; Louis, on the contrary, was finally relaxing. Carolyn looked back every few seconds to make sure she wasn’t going too fast, but Louis was about ready to sprint and probably would if it weren’t for the fact that the hospital’s hallways were crowded.

“I can tell you whatever I want about Noel,” Carolyn said softly. She stopped outside one room, gripping the door handle but not turning it. “He got off really lucky. Ribs are messed up, some internal damage, but mostly alright.” She looked at the couple. “They’re asleep, and I want it to stay that way. Stay near the door and be quiet.”

With that, the nurse pushed open the door and allowed them to step in. Ricky, Noel, and Misha were each lying in a hospital bed, partially upright, wearing those light blue paper gowns. Ricky and Misha both had casts on their arms. They were each attached to an IV, small machines monitoring them silently. Their faces were all twisted in pain and discomfort. Louis wished he could go over and soothe them.

“My lads…” Louis squeezed Martha’s hand again. “How could this happen?”

“I wish I knew,” Carolyn whispered, voice falling away at the last word.

“It’s not right at all,” Martha muttered. “Such pure souls. They’re babies, really.” Carolyn nodded. She gestured for them to leave, and they all backed out of the room.

The door clicked shut, and Carolyn drew a trembling breath. Louis got a good look at the circles under her eyes and wondered whether she’d slept for even a wink tonight. It was so early in the morning; nobody but terrified parents should be awake now.

“Now, I do need you to do something. Follow me,” Carolyn ordered. The Markuses followed suit, careful to avoid the other people in the hall as Carolyn led them farther back.

They arrived at the ICU, and Carolyn brusquely instructed them to stand against a wall while she went inside. They did as told. Louis took a moment to breathe, squeezing his wife’s hand again. “I feel like a sleuth,” she said quietly. She squeezed his hand back. “This isn’t legal.”

“But it’s not wrong ,” Louis argued. “It’s not wrong to want to check on my students. It’s not wrong for one of my previous students to do me a favor. It’s not wrong for a mother to do anything for her son, nor a nurse for her patients.”

Martha turned and smiled at him. “No, it’s not.”

“The doctors might blame me. Would God?”

“I don’t believe so,” Martha assured him. She took a deep breath.

Carolyn came out of the doors and motioned for them to follow. “This must be quick,” she told them as the doors shut. She was quiet, precise with every step. “I got permission for you to come see the Jane Doe. There’s no ID on her, and the boys can’t tell anyone either.”

“The boys can’t– What of the other girls?” Louis asked, his heart aching sharply. No .

Carolyn dipped her head. She turned a corner and began to slow down. She stopped by a room and placed her hand on the knob. “You cannot touch her. She’s in critical condition. I just need you to look at her and tell me who she is. Some information about her family if possible.”

As the door clicked open, Louis asked, “Don’t you know the students as well?”

“Not her.”

That told him who it was. Letting go of Martha, he stepped father into the dim room, looking over the expressionless face of the girl. She looked like she was in the deepest sleep, even though she was hooked up to all sorts of machines and had a neck brace on. Louis folded his hands in front of his face to stop himself from taking her hands. He shut his eyes to ward off tears. When he opened them, there was a sheet over her body. The sheet fell to the bed where her head should have been. He gasped and covered his face with his hands to block it out. He took his hands away, hoping to see the outline of her head– but it wasn’t an outline. It was her whole face. No sheet.

“Father Louis,” Carolyn said softly. She was holding a notepad. “You have to tell me quickly.”

He took a breath, looking down at the still face of the girl. She looked like she was made of painted porcelain. “Her name is Penny Lamb. She was born on the seventh of April in nineteen ninety-two. She… She joined the choir just last week. Barely got a chance to meet the others, poor lass.” He felt the hot tears fall down his rosy cheeks. Stepping backward, he reached for Martha. She took his hand firmly and guided him out of the room. Once Carolyn had shut the door, he asked, “What about the others? You said they couldn’t tell anyone who she was. Why not?”

“The boys didn’t know her name,” Carolyn whispered, walking back up the hall to take them out. “The… The other two are still unconscious.”

“But they’re alive?” Louis asked, coming closer and grasping Carolyn’s arm. She paused and put her hand over his. He leaned in closer, praying to hear what he wanted.

The nurse’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “They’re all alive.”

May God forgive her for breaking the law, Louis thought to himself. And thank God for delivering them.

“May I see them?” Louis asked. Carolyn bit her lip and looked up at him with her utterly heartbroken eyes. She sighed and led him around the corner and to the door of one room.

“Be careful and be quick.”

When Louis saw Ocean in that bed, he found himself ready to cry. He saw Martha wrap her arms around Carolyn. He went to Ocean’s side, seeing the pained face she made. It reminded him of one time Martha had a fever and was unaware, only knowing that she felt ill. She looked like a mess, hair falling wildly on the pillow, stitches in her scalp, wearing two arm casts, and a nasal cannula on her face.

Louis took Ocean’s hand, even though it was in a cast. He held her cold fingers and let the tears fall. He leaned in closer and whispered, “Hello, darling lass.” He squeezed her fingertips as gently as possible and sniffed. “I’m so glad you’re alright. Oh, I’m so glad.” Her face twitched, almost imperceivable. “I saw the boys earlier. I let them sleep. You all need sleep.” He probably did, too, but that had to wait. “I don’t know any student before who has had your willpower, aside from Miss Carolyn Gruber, perhaps.” He ran his thumb over her fingers. “You’re going to be fine. You had better, you understand me, lassy? Remember what you always say, ‘Nothing’s gonna keep me down.’” His other hand reached to stroke her hair, which was already getting wavy again. Her face may have shifted. “Poor little lass… I’ll find a way to help. Just give me some time. I’m right here for you. I’m right here for all of you.”

“Father Louis,” Carolyn whispered. “I know you wanna stay with her.” He looked over his shoulder at the nurse. “We’re not supposed to be here. Come on.”

Louis sighed and let go of her hand. “Stay strong, Ocean. I’ll be back.”

He left the room, looking at Carolyn. “What about Constance?”

“She’s in the OR,” Carolyn responded, shaking her head. “Later, maybe. You need to go.” She put a hand on his back to guide him out. “They’re in good hands, I promise you that.”

Martha took his hand again, squeezing tight. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked.

Carolyn laughed dryly and blinked back tears. “Let me know if you find out… Actually. Just check in on Scott and Darlene for me. Please?”

“Consider it done,” Martha said warmly.

“If there is anything you think of that we can help with, tell us,” Louis insisted as they left the ICU.

“Actually…” Carolyn trailed off as she led the couple back to the entrance. Once they were at the front, she took their passes, saying, “Talk to the school. These kids will not be going back to class for months. Find a way to make that easy on them. I don’t want them failing this school year or missing out on graduation. Don’t let the negligence and idiocy of that carnival ruin their lives. I… I know you’re just a teacher, but… Please, Father Louis? Try?”

Louis hugged her again, nodding. Carolyn hugged back with the kind of tightness he hadn’t felt from her since her husband left. “I will do everything in my power, and everything God allows. You have my word.” As he pulled away, he pressed a kiss to Carolyn’s forehead. “You have my word.”

Carolyn hugged Martha as well, sniffling. She pulled back, wiping her tears. “I… I ought to get back to work. I have to– I have so much to do.” She pulled her hair back with a scrunchie, leaving it in a disastrous-looking bun. She fixed her headband to contain her bangs. Then, she pulled her shoulders back and smiled. If he hadn’t known her, Louis could never have guessed that she was in about as much distress as a parent could be. “Thank you,” she said almost cheerily. “Have a good day.”

Chapter Text

Darlene rushed through the hospital halls, frantically dodging doctors and nurses. Where was she, where was she?! The hallways were longer than they should have been, with no doors in the walls. Where was the door? She needed to find the door. Where was it, where was it?! The ceilings were so high she couldn’t see them. They seemed to be so high that the lights shouldn’t be very bright, but they were extremely bright. Blindingly so. The mockingly white floors and walls made her want to vomit. She had a headache. The walls shouldn't have been so white. They should have doors. Where were the doors, where were they?!

Darlene panted as she turned yet again, her husband hot on her heels. She had to make it there as fast as possible. She had to. She had to make it to Constance– fast. She had to see Constance. She was through the door. Where was the door, where was she!?

She turned a corner, suddenly met with a tall double-door. Darlene nearly fell as she stopped, Scott hitting the floor next to her. She gasped and looked up at Carolyn, who was sobbing hysterically next to the set of doors.

“No,” Darlene whispered as Scott stood up next to her. Her thick hands pressed over her mouth.

Carolyn looked up at them, the whites of her eyes blood red, tears pouring over uncontrollably. She screamed, “Yes!”

Darlene shook her head in denial, throwing herself into the massive double-doors. They didn’t budge. She sobbed as she pressed all of her weight into them. Only when a dark hand came from behind her and shoved did they open. She grabbed that hand and pulled Scott with her, directly towards one of the far gurneys. Against all logic, she grabbed the blanket and tugged it back. She shrieked, tears exploding painfully down her face when she saw it.

Pom-poms loose and messy, glasses shattered, face all but smashed inward, covered in blood, was her baby girl. Scott wrapped his arms around her and let out an agonizing yell, the tears from his eyes flowing down her neck and back already. Darlene screamed to the whole world, her throat tearing. She shook her head, falling to her knees. Scott went with her. They held each other, sobbing uncontrollably until their throats and eyes and lungs burned. She gasped until she could mutter out, “Constance…”

“Darlene,” Scott said calmly. How could he be calm? Their precious daughter was dead on the table, face broken and unrecognizable. “Darlene, wake up.”

Darlene sobbed, feeling like her chest might burst. “Cece, my little girl,” she muttered, tears gushing down her face.

“Darlene, can you hear me?” Scott asked calmly. He squeezed her arms gently. “You’re dreaming again. I need you to wake up.”

“My baby,” Darlene whispered. Her husband’s embrace was starting to calm her down, and her sobs turned to sniffles. “Cece…”

“She’s okay,” Scott assured her. “Our girl is alright. Darlene–

23 October 2009

“–she’s alive,” Scott murmured as Darlene opened her eyes. She stared into his chocolate eyes, her own still wet, but no longer painful. “Darlene, my darling…”

Darlene’s vision was blurry. She wiped the tears away, and it cleared up some. She felt Scott take her hand. She squeezed it as tightly as she could. As she felt the cold air on her face, felt his hand, saw his eyes, heard his voice, reality washed over her like the tide.

Constance was alive, but she was still in the hospital to make sure she healed right. Her face was very much not smashed, but she was left with scars that would probably never fully heal. Darlene hadn’t lost her daughter, and she thanked God every minute for it.

“Why is it always the same dream?” Darlene asked, leaning into her husband so he could wrap his arms around her. He cuddled and hushed her as she sobbed again. “I can’t help thinking my brain is trying to tell me something that I forgot.” She relaxed her head into his chest. “I always see the same thing. Carolyn is crying like crazy, broken. I’m crying so hard that everything physically hurts, a lot. And she’s–”

“Darlene, my darling, you don’t have to think of it again. I know.” Scott moved one hand to stroke her hair. She heard him sniffle. She wrapped her arms around his midsection to squeeze him back. “I wish I could tell you, love. I wish I could.”

“Hm…”

Scott sniffed loudly again. “But do you know what, Dacquoise?”

Darlene giggled at the nickname. Even twenty-five years later, even after marriage, even when she was sobbing from the nightmare that had been torturing her for over a month, that nickname made her giggle like a teenager. “What do you know, Butterscotch?”

He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “If I had the answer for everything, I wouldn’t inexplicably suck at making macarons.”

Darlene snorted, her body spasming and sobbing again. Scott hushed her and rubbed her back until her breathing calmed down again. “Oh– Oh how would you run your family’s cafe without me?” she teased, thinking of the hundreds of times he’d retried macarons and somehow burnt them, melted the creme, or made them so brittle they couldn’t be picked up. She was rather talented with those, always making them perfectly crunchy, soft, and sweet. The first time she’d made them in the cafe’s kitchen, Scott’s mother had demanded he marry her.

Scott rubbed her back again. “That’s why I brought you into the family, darling,” he told her softly. She pushed his chest so she could sit up, glaring playfully.

“Is that the only reason? Did you marry me for my macarons?” she asked, fake pouting.

“Of course not,” he told her gently. He pulled her close again and kissed her forehead. “I married you for your talent with latte art.”

Darlene laughed, and her body sobbed uncontrollably for a moment. She took a few deep breaths, gripping the bed sheets. When she was breathing slower again, she grinned at her husband. “I married you for your house, just so you know,” she mock-informed him.

“Did you now?” Scott teased, taking her hand from the sheets. “Well, you married me for a house attached to a business.”

“A lucrative business. I also married you for the family fortune,” Darlene teased him. She looked around their bedroom, at the numerous pictures of the two of them on the near wall. “Not because I fell in love with you at all.”

“If you married me for the money, why not split from me and use the money to move out of this dead-end town?” Scott asked, pulling her to his body again.

Darlene had asked herself a similar question right before they married. It wasn’t until the week of their wedding that she had learned just how wealthy the Blackwoods were. They’d built, expanded on, and cared for this property since the nineteen forties. They’d always made good money between catering to social events, small as those were, being a source of warmth in the community, and serving the finest coffee in town– despite what the owners of the Fatman Cafe claimed. However, since nobody in the family had ever been a big spender, the fortune had amassed. When she was informed of just how well-off the Blackwoods were, she had thought briefly about asking Scott one last time to move away. But when she saw the face of her now mother-in-law beaming about having another artistic cook in the family, the idea left her mind for good.

“Not even in my wildest dreams,” she whispered, kissing him gently.

Since then, Scott and Darlene Blackwood had welcomed a fulfilling life in a small town. They opted out of college, mastered their craft, had a baby, took over the cafe, had another baby, and loved every second of it.

The couple pulled apart, smiling softly. Scott wiped her eyes and fixed her hair. “You really are one of the lucky nature,” he reminded her.

“Okay, Mr. Amazing Karnak,” she said with a laugh.

Ah, yes, that silly fortune teller. The one programmed to probably scan you, explain what your star sign was, and tell you that you’d die of old age surrounded by loved ones. That was, of course, except for the time it was hacked to scare their friend. Darlene sent a prayer for him as she thought of him. Jacques had never told them exactly what his fortune was, only that it had shaken him. All they knew was that he had not, in fact, died of old age. For all they knew, that machine had been right.

Sometimes, Darlene still wished for proof, closure, or understanding. But, seeing as the machine had been broken, she supposed she never would.

“Really. I thank your luck for our little girl being alright,” Scott told her. “Cece will be home in no time, Dacquoise.”

She took a deep breath and relaxed into her husband again. “I’m sure you’re right, Butterscotch.”

He chuckled softly. “I usually am.”

___

31 October 2009

“Noel?”

“What's up?”

“I have question.”

“I have answer.”

“Do you have middle name?” Misha asked, fidgeting with the puzzle he’d been given. He never really liked these things. They confused and frustrated him, and most of these were so easily broken.

Noel looked up from the notepad he was writing on. He'd been trying to come up with some sort of story about Monique, some allegory of his accident. Somehow, he was stuck, and had been staring at a half-blank page since. He set down his pen in favor of giving his attention to Misha.

“That's a weird question. Why wouldn't I have one?” Noel asked.

“I am curious. In Ukraine, we don't uh– We do not have middle name. Middle name is father's name. Is called patronymic,” Misha explained, gesturing aimlessly with his hand. “It is different in Canada, yes?”

Noel picked up his pen again, deciding it was too boring to just stare at Misha. “Yep. I mean, someone can be named after their father anyways. Thank Hell I'm not.” He clicked his pen and dragged it into the page, leaving a thick, dark line. “A middle name can be something different. It's usually just to sound nice with your first name.”

“Ah.” Misha flipped the puzzle in his fingers again. He wasn't sure where Noel's rage came from, but he was sure that he was justified in it. “What is your middle name, then?”

Noel clicked his pen a few times and scribbled uselessly on his paper again. “It’s Jacques. Noel Jacques Gruber. Sounds charming, doesn’t it?”

Misha smirked. “It sounds French,” he pointed out. “Is quite fitting for you.”

“Well, my family is French-Canadian,” Noel mentioned, twirling his pen in his fingers. He smiled softly to himself. After a moment, he looked over at Ricky. “What about you?”

Ricky didn't respond, staring intently at the paper they were sketching on. One of the nurses had brought him a larger sketchpad after she noticed him doodling on his notepaper. He'd been ecstatic to have something new to do, giving the nurse a rather long thank-you note, which Noel had seen the nurse tuck into her chest pocket, and blowing her a kiss. She'd been rather shocked by that, but simply told him “you're welcome.”

Noel and Misha exchanged a small, affectionate smile. “Earth to Zolar, come in Ricky,” Noel said, muffling his voice like astronauts in the movies. “This is Noel Gruber…”

When the imaginative boy didn't respond, Misha leaned up a bit to see them properly. “Yo, Rickster.” No response again. Noel snickered. Misha made a whistling sound. “Rick.”

Ricky glanced up at the others, finally snapped out of his daydream. They blinked in confusion and raised their eyebrow. The others laughed softly.

“You're all good, Zirka,” Misha told them. “We are talking full names. Do you have middle name? What is it?”

Ricky grabbed his notepad, which he still kept for communication. They quickly wrote down a few words, adding a doodle of some sort on the page. They tore it off and folded it carefully to turn it into a little airplane.

There had to be a more efficient way to do this, Misha thought, but the look in Ricky's eyes when he got focused on the planes was so charming he didn't want to try another way. Besides, they were fucking bored and it didn't take much time.

Ricky gently tossed the plane, which glided a few feet until Noel stopped it and unfolded it. Ricky had added little stars around his name. He smirked as he read out loud, “Ricky Robin Potts. Robin? Huh. I never knew that before,” Noel said.

Ricky quickly wrote another note and sent it over. ‘There are plenty of things you didn't know about me before.’

Noel frowned as he repeated it out loud. He set the note down on his commode along with several others Ricky had given him over the past few days. He didn't always know what to say. Part of him wanted to ignore it out of guilt. Just move on as they were. They were friends now, real friends. But deep down, Noel knew they'd never treated Ricky right before. If he could go back to kindergarten and tell himself not to pick on Ricky or to include him in games, he would. As it stood, he had to live with twelve years of being an awful friend.

Before Noel could think of how to respond to that, there was a soft knock on the door. Assuming it was his mother with their dinner, Noel called, “Come in!”

Except his mother wasn’t the one knocking. Instead, a short teenager with brown hair stepped in. A grey hoodie fell off their shoulder, exposing the bright purple polo shirt underneath. Their mushroom earrings whipped around as they looked. When they saw Noel, the person’s face lit up.

It seemed to take Noel a moment to register that he was being looked at, but he suddenly sat up straighter, dropping his pen. “Kim?”

“Noel!” Kim ran over to his bed, standing awkwardly at the edge. They were gripping a paper bag from Taco Bell with so much force that half of it was crinkled. They took a shaky breath and smiled brightly. “Hey. How are you?”

Noel ignored the question, glancing at the clock by the door. “What are you doing here? It’s late; visiting hours are basically over.”

“I asked your mom really nicely,” Kim said, coming a bit closer to Noel. He sighed and dropped his legs over the side of the bed so Kim could sit next to him. “I know it’s late, and I do have to make this quick, but I wanted to see you. It’s been weeks, man. We haven’t heard a thing from you.”

Misha looked beyond the pair and at Ricky. Ricky just shrugged and went back to sketching.

“Uhm,” Misha interrupted. “Who is this?” He felt like he recognized the face, but the person’s name was escaping him.

“Uh, you know Kim. Or know of Kim,” Noel said. “A friend of mine. Junior this year.”

Misha gave Kim’s face another look before he seemed to put it together. “Ah, Kimberly, yes?” he said. “You are, uh, one of Alex’s sisters?”

Kim huffed quietly but smiled. “Yeah. You’re Misha, aren’t you? You’re– Ah– You, uh–” Kim cleared their throat, blushing. “You were friends with Alex, right?”

“Uhh, Alex was my friend, yes,” Misha said. “That is why I know you are his sister.”

They suddenly shoved their hand into their hoodie pocket. They pulled out their cell phone– and a kazoo, for some reason.

“How is he?” Misha asked, leaning back in his bed a bit.

Kim hummed, glancing at Misha as they opened something on their phone and started looking through it. “Oh, he’s good. Great. Has a– He has a new girlfriend.” They seemed to find something, because they gasped. “There it is! Uh, do you want me to read it or do you wanna?”

“Huh?”

Kim leaned over and handed their phone to Misha. The screen was taken up by a series of texts from Alex. Kim sat back, putting the kazoo back in their pocket. “I told him I was visiting y’all tonight. That’s when he realized you were in the accident.”

“He…” Misha felt rage suddenly flare up and raised his voice. “Fucking asshole! The accident was like four weeks ago–”

“Closer to six,” Noel corrected.

“Shut up! Even worse. We are on news. How did he not know?” Misha ranted. He clenched his teeth hard to keep from breaking Kim’s phone.

“Just read the text,” Kim said, fluttering their hand. Misha glared but did as told. He pressed the text so he could read the whole thing.

[Okay so the reason i didnt know is bc his name was never on the news. I saw noel and constance and all that but mishas name was never on their. I was wondering who micha was.]

[Okay now that im typing it im realizing that that was misha all along. Dude how did they misspell his name so badly ToT.]

[Holy crap i just looked up the accident. None of the articles have his name right. No 3 have the same 1.]

[Who tf is micha bashiky ToT.]

[Theres one for mischa bashini.]

[HELP one article called him mickey bakinky.]

Misha raised an eyebrow at Kim. “Is this supposed to make me feel better? I feel very disrespected by these butchers of my name.”

Kim waved her hand. “Finish reading them.”

Misha rolled his eyes and looked back at the phone.

[Wait is this why he hasnt answered our texts?!]

[Oh my GOD we thought he hated us Tot.]

[Okay tell misha that were worried about him. Were super glad hes alive and not like a smudge on the pavement or anything. And that hes not just ignoring us bc we rly thought he was mad at us for leaving or smth.]

Well, he kind of was, but he wouldn’t stop talking to his friends over it.

[Okay and misha if ur hearing/reading this were so sorry we didnt know sooner. I need to tell corey oml. Please get well soon bc the next time were in town we are gonna come check on you and well be pissed if ur in a coma or smth.]

[^Please tell him this kim^]

[Oh and tell him that if he survives he still ows me fifteen dollars.]

[And also tell noel i said hi :)]

Misha was grinning to himself now, but he bit his lip in an attempt to hide it. He glanced at Noel and said, “Alex says hi to you.”

As Kim leaned forward and took their phone back, Noel chuckled. “Tell him I say hi too.”

Kim nodded. “Yeah he totally freaked when he heard you were in the crash. I guess he thought you ghosted them.”

Oh, how morbidly true that nearly was.

Kim put their phone in their pocket. “Why, um– haven’t you texted them anyway?”

Misha frowned and shifted in the hospital bed. “I took my phone on that rollercoaster. It was not with me when we got to hospital. It’s lost.”

“Ohhhh that makes sense,” Kim said, nodding. “So, Noel, why haven't you answered our texts? Did you also get your phone destroyed?”

Noel frowned and looked at the floor. “No. I just didn’t– Well they returned our stuff to us eventually. I’m sorry, I think my mom has it. My priorities haven’t really been– Well, we’re kind of preoccupied.”

Kim waved their hands to shut him up. “Hey, don’t feel bad or apologize or anything like that! I was just wondering. As long as you’re alive, right?” Noel winced at the wording. Kim glanced at the clock and suddenly jumped. “Right! So the reason I’m here–” They dramatically grabbed the crinkled bag next to them and presented it to Noel. “I bring gift! It’s from– Uh, it’s from the uh– the whole team. We all pitched in– We pitched in to uh– Here.”

Noel laughed breathily and took the paper bag with a smile. “What is in this that had you death gripping it? Geez.”

Blushing and folding their arms, Kim sputtered, “Why, only the most important thing for a person to have on Halloween night!”

Noel and Misha’s eyes widened. Noel looked at the clock as though it would tell him the date. “It’s Halloween?”

Kim stared at him blankly for a minute. “You… Okay.” They poked the bag and grinned. “Open it!”

Noel laughed softly and did, unfolding the bag from its many crinkles and creases. Inside the bag was a huge assortment of candy. Cherry Blossoms, Reeses Cups, Coffee Crunch, Wine Gums, Gold Bars. Noel smiled widely, shaking his head. “Kim, you didn’t have to.”

“I did though,” they argued. “You’ve been trapped with only hospital food for over a month. And I uhh– I can't imagine how gross– I just saved you, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you. And tell everyone else thank you,” Noel said, noticing a card on the side of the bag. He pulled it off and opened it, smiling even wider as he read it.

‘To Noel: Fuck you for scaring us like that. If you die, you’re dying trying to unclog the toilet or facing insane customers during rush hour like a man. Until then, take the time you need, get better, and know that we’re here if you need us.’

Noel swallowed to stop himself from crying. He took a deep breath, seeing a signature of each and every one of his coworkers. He put the card down and blinked rapidly. “I… Tell them I said thanks.” Maybe he could forgive them for catering his funeral. In fact, he was starting to feel less appalled and more grateful for that.

Kim smiled, glancing at the clock again. “Yeah. I’ll– I’ll do that.” They awkwardly shifted their hands. “Would you– Well, can I– If you’re–” Kim huffed and opened their arms. “Hug?”

Noel nodded, turning to face them a bit better. “Yeah, just not hard.”

They hugged, Noel gripping the back of Kim’s hoodie super tightly. Misha decided that he hadn’t noticed how much Noel’s eyes started shining. Kim whispered something to him, and he responded just as softly.

After a moment, Kim pulled back and got up to leave. “Okay. Just uh– Stay safe, feel better. We miss you.” She walked around and towards the door. “Bye Noel, Misha, and uh, it’s Ricky, right?” Ricky didn’t look up. Kim glanced at the other two.

“Yeah, it’s hard to snap them out of it,” Noel commented. “They're on another planet.”

Kim laughed softly. “Yeah, I get that. Uh– Bye.” Kim turned their back and opened the door. They had one foot outside when Noel called out again.

“Kim!”

“Hm?” They asked, turning back.

“What do you think my favorite song is?” Noel asked.

Kim stared at him, bemused for a moment. “Uh– I don’t– That’s a weird–” They cleared their throat, their face going pale for a brief moment, flashing with something not quite readable. “I dunno. I think– If I remember right– You said you liked Beautiful by Christina, right?”

Noel made a face. “I said that as a joke.”

“Oh… What is your favorite song, then?”

“More along the lines of Linkin Park,” Noel told them. “Like Numb or One More Light.”

Kim blinked. “Oh– I uh– I don’t think I’ve heard those. I’ll have to– I’ll look them up. Linkin Park, noted.” They smiled and waved. “Well, happy Halloween!”

With that, they left the room and shut the door. Noel read the card again, silently, smiling to himself. He wiped away the few tears that fell down. Working at Taco Bell sucked, but the people there sure didn’t. They’d played what they thought was his favorite song, and he had to suppose that it really is the thought that counts.

“Hey, Slovesnyk?” Misha said. Noel looked up at him. It was some sort of nickname, but Noel hadn’t the slightest idea what it meant. “Are you going to eat the whole bag?”

Noel smiled and took out a Gold Bar, tossing it. Misha quickly snatched it out of the air, muttering what was probably a “thank you” in Ukrainian as he opened it with his teeth. Noel pulled out some gummies and hit them on his commode to get Ricky’s attention. “Hey, Rick?”

Ricky looked up, humming.

“Do you want some?”

Ricky grabbed their notebook and quickly wrote something down. They made the note into an airplane and sent it to Noel, who caught it in the air.

‘I can’t eat anything chewy or crunchy.’

“Ohhh I forgot about that,” Noel muttered. He looked back in the bag, pulling out a few things and thinking about the texture. “Uhh, oh! You’re not allergic, are you?” he asked, holding up a small pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. If the little gasp Ricky made was any indication, he was not allergic. Ricky reached their non-broken hand and grabbed at the air, humming excitedly. Misha burst into laughter at the display. Noel snickered. “Are these your favorite or something?”

Ricky nodded vigorously.

“Oh, in that case…” Noel smiled and grabbed a couple more out of the bag, tossing them all onto his lap.

Ricky made a soft hissing sound that must have been a laugh. They rather awkwardly lifted their casted arm to make a heart with their fingers.

“You’re welcome.”

As he opened a package of Cherry Blossoms, Noel couldn’t help thinking that his coworkers were kind of the best.

Chapter Text

1 November 2009

“Noel?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know you were gay?”

Noel looked over at Misha suddenly, seeing him crumpling a few candy wrappers and rolling them into a ball. Noel raised an eyebrow, setting down his poetry notepad and giving Misha his attention. “Why?”

“I am curious. When did you decide?”

Noel shifted a bit. This was usually the part of a conversation where someone asked him why he didn’t just like girls or why he’d choose to sin. “I– Well– It wasn’t a decision. I had no say in this. Sexuality isn’t– Well this isn’t exactly–” Noel paused, taking a deep breath to buy himself some time to find his words. “Sometimes, you just like someone else. Sometimes, you just want to be with someone, and you don’t actually get to choose that. I never chose to like girls or guys. I just ended up liking guys.” Misha hummed, nodding. He looked down at his paper, writing something down in what was either Ukrainian or Russian– Noel couldn’t tell. Hold on, was he taking notes?

“Then what made you realize? Did you always know, or was there something to make you realize, even if it was always there?” Misha asked, looking up at him and adding another few wrappers to his little ball. Noel relaxed a bit. There was nothing to be scared of. The rapper wasn’t being nosy; he was curious. He wasn’t trying to examine Noel and invade his privacy; he was making conversation with a friend. This wasn’t some nosy classmate; this was Misha , one of the people Noel had been able to share everything with, one of the people he hid nothing from.

… Okay, almost nothing.

Noel’s cheeks turned red, and he broke eye contact with the Ukrainian, staring at his notepad intently. “I always knew. I always knew I found boys cuter than girls. I always knew I didn’t like things other boys liked. I always knew there was something about it that was different than anyone.” He laughed softly to himself. “It fully hit me that I only liked boys after I had my first kiss.”

Misha was quiet for a moment. Noel looked back at him, seeing his eyebrow raised in confusion. “You told me that you had never kissed someone before.”

Noel mirrored his expression. “What? When did I say that?”

“When we were drinking in the warehouse,” Misha told him, “you told me that you had never kissed someone.”

Noel shook his head, hiding a smile. “No. I said I’d never kissed a man.” He suppressed a laugh. “My first kiss was actually with Constance.”

Misha’s eyes went wide. “You– What– Constance?!”

“We were in grade seven,” Noel explained. “Everyone else was talking about their crushes, and some people thought Constance and I liked each other. Long story short, we decided to kiss to see if we did like each other.” Noel started chuckling. “We like– We went under the bleachers and everything. It was horrible. It wasn’t a real kiss. It was more like sitting next to each other and letting our lips touch. Then we decided that that wasn’t a real kiss, so we tried like two or three more times, and it was worse each time.”

Misha just stared at him, seemingly a bit grossed out. Noel laughed harder at his face.

“I wish I was kidding. It was just as bad as it sounds. I– I pretty much immediately burst out crying and told her I was sorry. She was all like, ‘Oh no don’t be sad. I‘m sorry, I don’t like you either.’ And I was like, ‘No, I don’t like girls at all.’ And then she just kind of went, ‘That makes sense.’” Noel smiled at Misha, quelling his own awkward laughter. “So yeah. I’m gay, and we’re still best friends.”

Misha stared at Noel for a moment, completely dumbstruck. “So you kissed Constance?”

“Yep.”

“And you regretted it?”

“No, I didn’t regret it, per say. I’m glad I realized by kissing her instead of, like, dating a girl in high school and breaking her heart,” Noel said. He laughed at himself yet again. “So that’s my story.”

“Ah.”

Misha crumpled a few more wrappers into his growing trash ball.

“Why?”

“Huh?”

Noel picked up his notepad again, doodling a few sloppy flowers. “I’m not offended. I’m just wondering why you wanted to know.”

“Oh… I think I might like men,” Misha said casually.

Noel blushed brightly. He stared at his notepad, slowly drawing a heart into the flower. “What?”

“I have been thinking lately. I still love women, but I think I might like men too,” Misha elaborated. He flashed Noel a small smile. “I think my first kiss also made me realize.”

“Your first…” Noel’s face went red. He dropped his pen. “Was I your first kiss?!”

Misha nodded. “Yes. Well, my first in-person one. I only ever kissed Talya on the phone.”

Noel cleared his throat, trying to dislodge his heart from it. Misha had told them that he’d broken things off with Talya, but he didn’t know what his future plans were in that regard. He could tell that he loved her, but he wasn’t sure what would come of it.

Noel ended up just saying, “Oh… Sorry?”

The other teen looked back at him. “What?”

“That was your first kiss, but you were kinda forced into it,” Noel said. He rubbed his arm awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

“Just because I was not in control of my body does not mean I did not, uh, like it.” Misha’s face turned a bit pink. “Is fine. No harm done.” He pressed his ball of candy wrappers and tossed it across the room, dropping it into the trash bin flawlessly.

“Ok. Cool,” Noel said, looking back at his notepad with a bright red face.

Meanwhile, Ricky stared at the pair, in agonizing pain at having to silently watch this. He sighed, turning back to his drawing, gently sketching the whiskers onto a little cat in a portrait with four others.

___

2 November 2009

Carolyn smiled softly when she saw Ocean and Constance. They each looked up at her with a very different expression.

“Carolyn!” Constance pulled her eyes from her Tamagotchi and gave her a bright smile. She sat up as straight as she could, eyes gleaming. “What's up? It's not bath day, is it?”

Ocean, however, looked tired, as if she was waking up just as Carolyn walked in. The nurse knew that Ocean was always wide awake in the midday, and her worry was that precisely. Her hazel eyes seemed to blink to life as Carolyn spoke.

“No, not today. The boys wanted me to bring you something,” Carolyn said. She placed a paper bag on the commode in between the girls. “Your friend Kim brought Halloween candy. There was a lot of it, and I mean a lot . Noel wanted to share.”

Ocean smiled slightly, and Constance beamed. Carolyn pulled out a few Gold Bars and gave them to Constance. Constance started excitedly unwrapping the candy as she tended to her Tamagotchi. Carolyn found herself smiling a little wider at the sounds the little pet made. She looked over at Ocean, who was staring at the bag as though she didn’t fully know what it was. She grabbed a yellow package and held it up to Ocean. “Do you want a Cherry Blossom?”

Ocean stared for another second before she said, “It’s an hour before dinner. We shouldn’t.”

Carolyn smiled softly. “One piece this early won’t hurt. I won’t tell.” At that last bit, she winked. Normally, Carolyn wouldn’t allow something like this. However, she had a soft spot for Constance, and her parents would not have minded. As for Ocean’s parents, Carolyn couldn’t give a damn what they’d think. She, herself, may as well have been… Besides, the redhead girl looked like she needed cheering up.

Ocean slowly took the candy and unwrapped it. Carolyn didn’t make a big deal out of the smile she saw as she turned. She took another Cherry Blossom from the bag for herself. She preferred Peanut Butter Cups, but for some reason, those had vanished from the collection.

As Carolyn was about to ask Constance about her Tamagotchi, she heard Ocean groan and start muttering to herself. She turned to see her tugging at her hair and trying to pick up a brush. This turned out to be rather difficult on account of her cast. Carolyn sighed and set the Cherry Blossom down, going over and offering her hand. “I’m here to help you with that if you need.”

“I– I can do it myself,” Ocean said. She struggled to get a good enough grip to pull the brush through her hair without getting it stuck in waves and tangles. “I can’t leave it down. It bothers me like crazy whenever it touches my face. I’m going to have to do it on my own when I leave, so I might as well.”

The thought of Ocean in her bedroom, struggling to so much as brush her hair while her parents smoked, made Carolyn’s chest heat up. She wished she could just keep Ocean until she recovered fully. That way, she wouldn’t have to worry about doing these things alone. “Well, you’re still here,” Carolyn said calmly. She sat next to Ocean on the bed. “I don’t–”

“No! I’ve got it. I don’t need parents doing things for me!” Ocean protested, turning away and trying again to brush through her hair but getting stuck in the frizzy waves. Carolyn stared at Ocean in shock for a moment and realized that Ocean probably hadn’t fully realized what she’d said aloud.

Taking a deep breath, Carolyn leaned over to be in Ocean’s view again. “I’m sure you can take care of yourself. Maybe I’m just being a little selfish.” Ocean’s movements halted suddenly, and she dropped the hairbrush in her lap. She glanced at Carolyn with wide eyes. The nurse gently picked up the brush and said, “I like brushing your hair. I never had a daughter to do this for.”

Ocean’s eyes glossed over suddenly. She turned again, but this time, it wasn’t out of avoidance.

“Alright.”

Carolyn smiled softly, gripping Ocean’s hair with one hand and starting to brush through with the other; that way, she didn’t pull Ocean’s scalp as much. It was a trick Carolyn’s mother had used on her. It also helped with managing the thickness of her hair. Thick, dark hair just ran in the family. Ocean’s was different, being light red and thin. It would probably be thicker if she took better care of it, though. Carolyn’s mother had taught her extensively how to care for her hair. In Uranium, longer, shiner hair was seen as the prettiest. Carolyn had always wanted to fit in and do things right. Naturally, ensuring that she had the most envied hair in her class seemed like the perfect way to do that.

She remembered growing up with her mother humming as she brushed and braided her hair. It was those moments that Carolyn missed most. She missed those quiet, innocent moments. She missed the moments she could relax because the only thing she had to worry about was her hair, but her mother was the one worrying about it. When was the last time that had been the case? Carolyn had done nothing but worry since Noel was born. She’d worried a lot during her pregnancy. She’d worried a lot when she was starting college and getting married. She’d worried a lot about her grades during high school. The last time her mother had done her hair had to be in high school.

With a pang, she realized that she would have been sixteen the last time her mother did her hair; for her birthday party. Carolyn blinked away tears. What she wouldn’t give for another one of those moments, just one.

Ocean sighed, her shoulders falling as Carolyn set down the brush and put her hair in sections.

As Carolyn brought a piece of hair over Ocean’s ear to bring it into the braid, she knew that this was one of those moments. She was just on the other side this time. Carolyn lifted one hand to the back of her own head, gently pulling out her hair tie and letting her ponytail fall, and she shook her head as her scalp relaxed. Dexterously, she tied off the braid and draped it over Ocean’s shoulder. “There you go, fille doué.”

Ocean ran her fingers above her ear to check the braid. Carolyn’s eyes followed the motion, and she noticed a few details that she’d never had the chance to before. Her hair had a soft, almost golden shine in the light. The barely-present freckles on Ocean’s skin spread up on her ears. Her ears were relatively small with an unattached lobe. Carolyn’s eyes widened slightly. It was such a simple trait, but it was…

Ocean looked up at her, an almost sad look still on her face. “Are you okay, Nurse Gruber?”

“Your ears,” Carolyn breathed out before she could stop her. To catch herself, she quickly added, “Have you ever thought of getting them pierced?”

Ocean raised an eyebrow and gently shook her head. “Not really. I don’t exactly see the point of putting a hole in my ear to put gems in them. It’s not practical. Besides, I don’t trust anyone at the mall to pierce my ears.”

Carolyn nodded, slowly starting to walk out. “I suppose not. Still, you have the perfect earlobes for something simple. I think they’d look pretty on you.” That wasn’t making her sound any less odd, was it?

“Um, thank you,” Ocean said, smiling slightly.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Carolyn told the girls. She smiled and waved as she slipped out of the door. “Call if you need.”

The moment the door shut, Carolyn gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. She felt everything come together and blossom in her chest. She had suspected it for ages. She had always held Ocean in a special place in her mind because of it, but this… Like a flower, the knowledge bloomed. She did it like a secret. She clenched her jaw and turned to go down to the office. There was no point dwelling on anything when she had reports of more than one kind to make.

___

Pushing the door open, Scott pushed a beaming smile on his face. “Guess who!”

“Scott! Darlene!” Noel sat up, pushing his legs over the side of the bed. Darlene rushed past her husband, almost throwing herself into the boy, but stopping herself before she could hurt him. She gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders and head, trying not to hurt him. She loved Noel like family. Since he was a baby, she’d viewed him as a nephew. He felt as familiar in her arms as Constance and Wesley did. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“We closed the shop early, and we wanted to come up while the roads were clear,” Darlene explained. Knowing how much he hated having it messy, she fixed Noel’s hair as she pulled away. “Besides, we have snacks.”

“Food? Food that is not salad sandwiches or boiled vegetables?” Misha asked, sitting up and beaming.

Scott nodded, going over to Noel’s tray. He ruffled the boy’s hair as he set down his bag and pulled out a few things. Noel grumbled and fixed it again. “I have macarons, cupcakes, and some cake. Take your pick.”

“Macarons, I will fight you for those,” Noel said with a glance at Misha, already reaching over and taking the small container. Darlene laughed at his enthusiasm and turned around to Ricky.

“Your mother told me you had some dietary restrictions,” she said. She picked up a container full of cream with pink and purple swirls. “I saved this for you, just to be sure. It's a berry custard.” Ricky took the container from her. “It has strawberries and blueberries. I hope that’s okay.” Ricky stared at the lid and blinked at it for a moment. He looked back up at her when a plastic spoon was pushed into his vision. Ricky smiled at her gratefully, taking the spoon and setting the container in his lap to open it.

Darlene turned to Noel, who had two or three macarons shoved in his mouth. She laughed softly, watching her husband hand Misha a slice of honey cake. “How have you boys been doing since our last visit?”

“Bored,” Misha said as he took the metal fork he was offered and stabbed into the cake. “But it hurts less.”

“But we should be out in the next week or two,” Noel said, his mouth half full of macarons.

“That’s great!” Scott said. He sighed and sat on the foot of Misha’s bed. Misha flashed him a quick smile. “I bet you’re looking forward to relaxing at home, huh?”

Noel shrugged. “Yeah, before school starts anyways. I am not looking forward to dealing with the gossip and all.”

Darlene and Scott exchanged a knowing look. “Your mother hasn’t told you yet?” Scott said, still making eye contact with Darlene. Noel hummed, so they both looked at him. “You’re probably not going back to school.”

“What?” Noel looked between Misha and Ricky.

Darlene sat at the edge of his bed. “Well, we talked to the school and managed to convince your principal not to make you go back to school right away. They’re still making final decisions, but…”

“You guys might get to skip the whole school year,” Scott finished. He smiled at each of them. “That way you have plenty of time to recover without making up extra work.”

“Hell yes!” Misha exclaimed. He lifted a forkful of cake in a mock-toast. “Here’s to skipping school.”

Noel sighed, lifting up a macaron to him. “Here here! Not having to apply for colleges for a year? Absolutely. Less for me to worry about.” Noel and Misha looked over at Ricky, who raised his plastic spoon with them. “And Lord knows what we need is less to worry about.”

Ricky nodded firmly and was the first to take the next bite of his dessert. Misha and Noel followed.

Only seconds after Misha took the bite of his cake, his eyes glossed over. He managed to swallow without choking, but he sobbed softly afterwards. Scott and Darlene looked over at him, suddenly very worried. Scott reached out and rested a hand on Misha’s leg. “Are you alright, son?”

Darlene felt her heart stop. He wasn’t allergic, was he? Oh, she should have triple-checked first. She got up from Noel’s bed and stood next to her husband. “Misha?”

The Ukrainian boy looked up at them, “мені шкода. This tastes like the медовик my mother used to make.” He hid his face to, presumably, wipe away tears. “Дякую. Bedankt. This is the best thing I have tasted in years.”

Noel glanced over at Ricky, who was just sitting there with the spoon in his mouth, staring at Misha. His eyes flicked to Noel, who looked at Ricky and pointed at Misha with his thumb. Ricky pulled the spoon away from his mouth and shrugged. Noel frowned and looked back at Misha, who was just kind of breaking down now.

Darlene cooed softly as Scott got up and moved to sit next to Misha. She quickly followed, sitting on the other side of him. “Hey, hey, you’re okay,” she told him. She put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb. “Shhh, hey…”

Misha covered his mouth with his good hand. Scott moved the cake to his bed table and placed a hand on his back. “Hey, son, let it out.”

“Ik ben niet meer ‘zoon’ genoemd sinds ze stierf,” Misha said, sobbing softly. The Blackwoods hushed him and continued rubbing his back and shoulder. “Je noemde me zojuist ‘zoon.’”

Darlene smiled softly, squeezing his shoulder. “Hey, deep breaths. Hey, hey, take deep breaths. You’re okay.”

“I am sorry. They– The Greenes never made me–” Misha sniffed and wiped his eyes again. “I am sorry for being so passionate right now. It is not–”

“Shh, hey, don’t worry about it,” Scott told him. “We won’t tell anyone you cried. I cry all the time, it’s cool.” Misha sobbed again, attempting and failing to stifle it.

Scott frowned as he thought about the comment about the Greenes.

He had never liked Kelly Greene. The girl was a pansy. It was one thing to have asthma, but it was another to make it your entire personality. Kelly, from what Scott could gather, was the type to tattle on her classmates for talking while their teacher was out of the room. She liked to play victim, blaming her asthma for why people couldn’t tell her ‘no.’ On top of that, she had somehow landed herself with the title of ‘Best Friend’ to Susan Potts. Adam, on the other hand, was her biggest enabler and the only one willing to put up with her incessant whining. He was overly defensive of her to the point of screaming at anyone who didn’t give her what she wanted at a grocery store. The both of them were attention seekers, a trait that had become horribly apparent two years ago.

Kelly had made this huge deal over how she and Adam were going to adopt, saying she was proud to take in a child who was in a difficult situation. Scott and Darlene had bitten back how they thought Kelly was more excited by how much praise she got than the prospect of actually giving a child a safe home. Funny. She’d stopped being so proud of herself the day her adopted son had actually moved here.

Scott looked at Darlene, who frowned and nodded at him. Her eyes searched his face as his searched Misha’s. From what they’d heard, he was the stereotypical tough boy. Constance thought he was intimidating, Noel tried to explain that he wasn’t really as violent as even Misha claimed, and Carolyn had, for a long time, compared Misha to her ex-husband. Seeing him break down in such a raw way after just a bite of honey cake, Scott wasn’t so sure what about any of that was true or not.

Behind Darlene, Noel and Ricky were staring with unadulterated worry. Scott flashed them a smile that he hoped was reassuring. He looked back at Misha and felt his heart tug all around the place. “Hey,” he whispered, rubbing Misha’s back firmly. “What’s–”

“I’m sorry. Sorry. Je bent zo aardig. Alleen mijn moeder was zo–” Misha swallowed hard, as if different languages kept bubbling up his throat. “I haven’t eaten anything so good since I left home.”

“Hospital food sucks, huh?” Scott said with a soft chuckle.

“No. Well, yes,” Misha said. He scrubbed his face with the heel of his hand. “But their house is not my home. Not that basement, not this city, not this country.”

“I’m sorry, basement?” Darlene repeated, eyebrows furowing. She met Scott’s eyes briefly. Then, Misha looked at her, so she met his gaze instead.

Basement? That meant cold and damp and dark. A basement meant being alone, being prone to sickness, and having little access to basic needs.

Misha nodded. “I am kept in the basement. That way, I can get out without seeing them.

Or without them seeing him?

“And they don’t give you treats?” Darlene asked. Scott knew that tone of voice. She was trying to pry without being intrusive. Misha was being honest with them, and might take that as an invitation to open up at least a bit.

“They barely feed me, the bastards,” Misha spat. He sniffed. “I get whatever Kelly gives me. I get whatever is leftover. Хай йому чорт! They fed me stocked food they’d bought for me before I was here.”

Scott’s eyes widened. He locked eyes with his wife, and he knew they were thinking the same thing. This sounded like neglect, even abuse. Darlene squeezed his shoulder tighter. “Oh, dear, that sounds awful. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And I’ll be stuck with them all year,” Misha muttered. “If they don’t kick me out.”

Darlene exchanged another look with him, eyes wide. Scott nodded firmly. “You don’t have to go back there.” She turned to look in Misha’s eyes. “We have a guest room.”

Misha stared at them with wide eyes. He leaned back and shook his head. “No, no, you are too kind. I wouldn’t burden you.”

“It’s not a burden if we’re offering,” Scott told him. He put a hand out as if painting a picture. “Imagine it, son. No basement, a fireplace, the smell of croissants every morning, honey cakes.” Misha sobbed softly. “We have the space.”

“I will not make you pay to have me,” Misha insisted. He showed a watery smile to the couple. “It is a kind offer. I see that Constance takes after you very much.” Scott felt warmth blossom in his heart.

“Misha, we can more than pay for it,” Darlene whispered. Noel nodded, catching Misha’s eyes for a brief moment. “Again, we are offering. We wouldn’t if we couldn’t handle it.”

“And we can help you sue them for child abuse,” Scott offered. Darlene glared at him slightly. “What?”

“That seems like the least boring thing in this town,” Misha said playfully. “But it would not work. I am eighteen. I am not a child.”

“Were you eighteen when they started treating you that way?” Darlene asked. Misha shook his head. “Then it counts.”

“Let us do this, please,” Scott said, grinning. “I want an excuse to sue Adam.”

“Scott!”

“What?”

Misha laughed, a half-shocked, half-amused sound. “I still–”

“Tell you what,” Scott said. “If you’re really worried about it, we’ll give you a job at the cafe. Help us out every now and then, stay with us, we’ll call it even. Sound like a deal, son?” He offered his right hand, and upon realizing Misha’s right arm was in a full cast, switched to his left.

Eyes still shining, Misha laughed softly and clapped their hands together. “I will think about it. You are too nice.”

“To kids that deserve it, yes,” Scott confirmed, shaking Misha’s hand. He gave it a firm squeeze and received one in turn. “To the Greenes? I’d rather not be. They’re rude sons of bitches.”

“Scott, language!”

Scott rolled his eyes playfully. “They’re not toddlers, Dacquoise. Besides, Noel has a worse sailor mouth than I.” Noel laughed. Scott reached over to Misha’s table and picked up the honey cake, passing it back to Misha. “Enjoy.”

Noel and Ricky were smiling at them. Darlene turned to see them. Scott met Ricky’s eyes and saw him mouth, ‘Thank you.’ Scott nodded to him and smiled at Darlene. So long as they were here, they were going to make Uranium a better place, one kid, two lawsuits, and three desserts at a time.

Chapter Text

2 November 2009

As Carolyn made her way to the office, she heard arguing between two voices. She slowed her pace, listening a bit more closely. Down this hall, they were louder. She noticed the door to Miss Lamb’s room open. The voice of an adult came through, sharp and clear, “You were given one hour. Your parents want you to go back home. Let’s go.”

“I’m barely five minutes over,” a boy’s voice argued. Carolyn felt her brain start itching from the familiarity. She stepped closer, seeing a boy with curly dark hair and glasses standing with clenched fists. “Let me stay for just a second. We didn’t even get to talk about when we–”

“I don’t care about your little stories,” the man said. He reached and grabbed the teen by the hand. The teen yanked his arm back, a white glove slipping off. “Quit doing that!”

“Five more minutes!”

“Listen here, you little brat,” the worker said, reaching again. The teen dodged. “I’m not getting paid to deal with your hissy fits. I am getting paid to transport you here. Now, I’m going to get paid to take you home to your parents–”

“Those assholes aren’t my parents,” the boy hissed. “We don’t have parents, so shut the–”

“Ezra!”

Ezra. That was his name. The kid who’d cried for the loss of his sister’s memory. Carolyn felt her blood boil, so she calmly stepped in the room.

“What is going on here?” she asked sternly. Ezra rushed to be beside his sister, taking her hand. Carolyn put herself in front of the worker, pulling herself to her full height. At five foot eight, she wasn’t always intimidating, but she made up for it with her attitude. The man, at most two inches taller, faltered under her glare.

He cleared his throat. “This boy won’t cooperate. You’re a nurse. I’m sure you understand,” he explained.

“Oh? This ‘brat,’ you mean?” Carolyn mocked. She put a hand up to signal that he should stay back. “I don’t think a professional should be addressing a child like that. His eyebrows quirked up. Carolyn huffed, already knowing exactly how these kinds of conversations went. “How much did I hear? Plenty enough.”

The worker took a step toward her. She moved backwards to match the movement, angling herself to stay between the man and the kids. “You know what? I'm sure you have someone's temperature to take or a doctor to take notes for. Why don’t you do your job and let me do mine? Kid, let’s go.”

“Do you even know his name?” Carolyn asked sharply, feeling the blood bubble up and turn her face red.

“Do you?” the man sneered.

“Ezra Lamb,” Carolyn recalled, smirking when she saw the man’s albeit minor shock. “Now. Who do I have to talk to about your behavior?”

“Alright, fuck this,” the man spat. He shoved Carolyn by the chest, causing her to stumble.

His touch sparked something in her stomach, and a blazing fire flared up. As the man reached for Ezra, she gripped his forearm and pushed him back. “I’m going to calmly ask you not to lay a hand on either of those children,” she said, her tone a hot coal.

“Shove off!”

He twisted his arm free and punched her in the gut. Carolyn cried out, but grabbed Pierre’s arm with both hands. He shouted something at her that wasn’t even a word. She tugged him away from the kids, and he stumbled with the force. Pierre suddenly threw a hand around, but instead of punching her, gripped her ponytail. Carolyn cried out as her head was tugged back, having to readjust her stance so she didn’t fall. She let go of his fist with one hand and instead put it on Pierre’s other forearm. She felt for a mere second before clamping her nails down in between the tendons. His fingers fell open, and she tried to twist her head free.

While she was still standing awkwardly, Pierre shoved her against the wall. Carolyn dipped her chin down to protect her throat just as he reached to choke her. As his hand tightened, she tried to regain her footing. As soon as she had one foot planted, she threw up her other knee. It collided with either Pierre’s crotch or his gut. It didn’t matter, as he doubled over, releasing her.

Carolyn didn’t even bother catching her breath before side-stepping. She quickly swept her leg under him, but, having expected the blow, he stiffened, and her kick did almost nothing. He moved one foot, but the moment he planted it, he slipped. Taking advantage of his lack of balance, she kicked his other leg again. When he hit the ground, she dropped down and grabbed one hand. With a twist, it was pinned behind him. With a shift, her knee was on his lower back.

“Security!”

The commotion must have attracted plenty of attention, because, almost immediately, a security guard was behind her. She stood up as the actual officers took the man from her. She sighed in relief, turned to the kids, and rushed over, looking over them frantically. “Are you alright?”

Ezra had no marks on him, save from a few scratches. Those, however, were not fresh. The nurse prayed that those were just teenage boy scratches and not the remnants of any abuse. Penny looked safe, save for the wide-eyed expression she had. Her eyes always seemed to be wide, but this time, they looked slightly horrified.

“That was awesome. It was like the wrestling you see on television, but less colorful,” Ezra whispered. He gazed at Carolyn for a moment. She met his eyes, her worry still thudding through her. The fire in her stomach was beginning to burn out, nothing but charcoal and smoke now. Nevertheless, it was hot. “Where did you learn to do that?”

She smiled and told him, “Aerobics classes.”

Penny was staring at her, cheeks dark pink. “How did you do that?”

“Never underestimate the strength of a mama bear,” Carolyn told her. When she was sure there were no new injuries on either of the kids, she relaxed a bit. Their safety was like cold water dousing the fire. It was still quite warm; it couldn't be cooled after all she'd seen and heard today, but it wasn't going to reignite just yet. Turning around, she bent and picked up a white glove. That must have caused the social worker to slip. “Is this yours?” Ezra nodded, so she gave it to him. “That glove might have saved me.”

“Epic.”

“Mother bears really earn the reputation for all bears being aggressive,” Penny said softly. “For the most part, bears forage and mind their own business. The mothers are easily provoked when they feel their children are in danger, whether that be at the hands of a male wanting to breed or a hiker.” Her bright green eyes met Carolyn’s. “They make good mamas.”

Carolyn smiled, blocking out the commotion now behind her. “Well then, you two can be my cubs for now. Just until we can get you somewhere safe. Ezra, you can stay in here tonight while I handle everything. If anyone tells you otherwise–”

“Tell them Carolyn told me so?” Ezra finished.

Carolyn nodded, her gaze softening. “Precisely.”

And while he was here, she had a phone call to make, reports to file, and some asses to sue.

___

3 November 2024

They knew something was wrong when Carolyn didn’t come in to bring them breakfast. A nurse he didn’t know the name of silently rushed in, placed food in front of each of them, gave Ricky his medication, and rushed out again.

From that moment on, a feeling of tenseness enveloped the room.

“It’s Tuesday. My mother should be here,” Noel said. He hugged his knees, glancing between Ricky and Misha, who both frowned and shrugged. They’d heard people bustling through the hallways, seeming to go more quiet near their room, before hurrying off in another direction.

Having always had a wild imagination, Ricky was vividly imagining the worst. One of the girls was dead. Constance had coded again, Ocean had stopped breathing, or Penny, her name was Penny, hadn’t woken up. The images stressed them out, and they wanted to get it out, but they trapped it inside. He didn’t want to actually write that down and let Misha and Noel see. That might have made it worse, since the mere thought of moving, scratching that pen, or bringing his words out of his head, terrified him. Ricky stared at the other two, silent in more ways than normal, trying not to picture the bloodied faces of their friends the way they’d been when they last saw them all.

“Perhaps she is just busy,” Misha offered. He fidgeted like crazy with his own pen. He didn’t sound like he believed himself. Ricky stared at him, empty, wishing tears would come so he could tell the others just how he felt, but unable to cry. He screamed internally for Noel or Misha to say something directly to him, to make it easier, but both of them were lost in their heads as well. “I’m sure she will be here for lunch.”

Except she wasn’t. A different nurse came in, quickly giving them their food. She stopped when Ricky didn’t move to touch his food. She gently reached and tapped his shoulder. He looked over at her, unable to even think of consistent words. “Don’t you want your potatoes?” Ricky didn’t respond, just staring at her and wishing he had the mental strength to pick up his pen and answer. “Oh, right.” The girl seemed to remember something suddenly. She instead motioned with her hands, a few gestures Ricky didn’t recognize, ending with tapping one fist with two hooked fingers.

Ricky sat up more, lookin at her in confusion. They couldn’t tell if she was mocking them or not. They looked over at Noel and Misha as if that would help them.

When they both just stared back at Ricky, the nurse spoke up. “Is he alright?”

“Uhhh…” Noel looked over at them, and Ricky tried to yell through their eyes that no, they were not okay. “Why?”

“I’m standing in for Nurse Gruber,” she explained, “so I don’t really know better. I was told that Richard here was mute. I just– Well, I assumed he’d know sign language.”

Sign language?

Ricky looked over at her, his brain a bit less foggy now. He did know sign language. His parents had taught him how to communicate with them all he needed to. They had a language.

Misha and Noel leaned forward to look at Ricky, who shook their head in confusion. Finally! Communication. Misha looked over at the nurse. “Not so far as we know… Ah, well, his family speaks with their hands,” he told her.

“Oh.” The nurse looked at the door and then back at Ricky. She noticed the notepad on his commode and seemed to suddenly piece it together. “Oh, you've used home sign language, then?"

I use my hands to talk at home, yes.

"Then I'm guessing you don't know much offical ASL?"

Ricky shook their head.

ASL? That's a thing? Do you mean to tell me that there is a silent language that is widely known ? That other people might know?

"Do you wanna learn some? I have a book, but I don’t really need it anymore.”

A book? There are books for that? Who knew?

Ricky blinked at her. They nodded, shifting a bit more as function seeped back into their body. They reached for the notepad and pen, smiling shyly.

“Great. I can bring it to you tomorrow,” she offered. She tapped her head as if physically taking a mental note. “I don’t have anywhere to be for ten minutes. Do you want me to teach you something?”

Ricky nodded, jotting down the first three words he thought of: the ones he wanted to know the most. He passed her the notepad and watched a smile creep on her face. “Okay. Cat? Easy.” She held her hand up, index and thumb touching in front of her face, her other fingers spread. She tapped the two open and closed a few times. “Snap your fingers like this, pulling your hand away like a whisker.” Ricky did just that, their movements slow with unfamiliarity. “There you go.”

‘Cat,’ Ricky signed again, a smile spreading on his face.

Why didn’t I learn sooner?

“Great job! Next up: star. Also easy,” the nurse said. She held up both her pointer fingers, the rest tucked into her palms. Ricky copied her. She grinned at him. “Then brush them together across your head.” They copied her movements. “It looks like stars twinkling.” Ricky repeated the motion, imagining the sparkle of stars coming off his fingers.

“You’re a fast learner!” Ricky blushed, smiling brightly. “And then ‘Ricky?’” The nurse looked him in the eye. “Oh, is that what you go by?”

Ricky nodded.

“Good to know,” the girl told them. “Okay, so names are tricky. They don’t exactly exist, but you can be assigned a name by someone who uses ASL, usually based on your initial and personality, but it can differ. I can teach you how to spell your name.”

Yes! This is so cool. You mean I get to choose my own name? That is so cool! I’ve been stuck with freaking Richard my whole life. You mean I can just be R-cat or something? Please tell me I can do that. Wait, how do I say ‘R?’

The nurse grinned. “Okay. First, just hold up your fingers crossed.” Ricky did. “That’s ‘R.’” She had him shape his hand a few different ways. He put up just his pinky, then made a simple ‘c’ with his hand, then a sort of “peace” sign with his thumb in it, then his pinky and thumb out. She had him repeat that a few times until he seemed confident. “There you go.”

Ricky switched between the letters over again, their motions slightly more fluid.

'R-i-c-k-y.'

R-i-c-k-y… I can say my name. I can say my name, and you can understand me. You don’t have to read it or have it read to you. I can tell you my name!

“And I’m Mary,” the nurse told them, spelling it out with her fingers lightning-quick. Ricky blinked in surprise.

Damn, you’re good at this. I’m impressed. And jealous. I wish I’d known about this sooner so I could be that good. Now’s as good a time to learn as any, I guess. Teach me more, please! Okay, well, you only have so much time, so please just teach me a few. These. That’s all I need.

They took their notepad back from Mary and wrote down two more words. He excitedly pushed the paper back towards her.

“Noel and Misha?” Mary repeated.

Ricky glanced at his friends and nodded, seeing their faces suddenly soften.

Mary laughed softly. “Okay, spelling again.”

___

Ocean was staring into space, the words of her most recent nightmare replaying over and over again.

I would never vote for you.

Ocean had found herself flickering between talking to Constance and staring at her own hands.

I would never vote for you.

The words stung.

Ocean noticed the door open. She knew, logically, in her head, that a new roommate was being brought in today. She didn't care who it was. She just cared about finding out how true those words were. What did they really mean? How could she change them? Except she could never change them. She didn't know what, but she had to find a way to make that statement null and void.

Ocean noticed another bed get wheeled in. She knew that there was a person on it. That person didn't matter. They were so easily killed. What even mattered? Constance mattered. That was the only thing Ocean was sure of right now.

I would never vote for you.

Noel sure mattered.

They all did. Ocean knew it. She'd learned that all too late. What she wouldn't give to learning sooner, to give herself a chance to make amends. What she wouldn't do to erase everything she had ever said and done and start anew. Instead, she was trapped with her past and her mistakes, and now she had to pay for them. She was paying with the pain that never quite left her back, the guilt that never fully quieted down, and the nightmares that never left her for a night. Because they all mattered to Ocean, but it was too late.

There was a conversation happening. Ocean didn't hear her name, so it didn't matter. She didn't matter. The world didn't need people like her. The world had too many people putting down others, causing harm, and being selfish. The world needed sweethearts with a wicked sense of humor. The world needed dreamers with a love for the darkness. The world needed lovers with endless hope. The world needed people who were honest and brave.

I would never vote for you.

Ocean heard the door shut.

Neither would I.

She only looked up when she heard Constance speak.

“It's you.”

Ocean followed her gaze to a girl in a paper gown to match theirs. She had light brown skin that seemed tanner in some spots. Her semi-curly, deep brown hair fell down in front of each of her shoulders. Compared to her body, her eyes were startlingly vibrant. The green glared at them almost unnaturally. She sat frighteningly still, although that may have been induced by her neck brace. In her lap, she held a pale baby doll with no eyes and a cracked face.

“Constance. Ocean,” she stated softly, her voice floating.

Jane Doe.

“Penny,” Constance whispered in shock.

Chapter Text

3 November 2009

“Carolyn Gruber!”

Carolyn stiffened and turned from her current conversation to see Adam and Kelly Greene angrily marching at her. Adam was in the lead, his face twisted with fury. Behind him, Kelly was pouting like a child denied dessert. They were both wearing those ugly off-tone sweaters again, making Carolyn wonder briefly if they owned other clothes. Both of their glasses were fogging up from the change of the cold outside to the warmth of the hospital’s waiting room. She wasn’t sure she had the patience to deal with these two today. Then again, she hadn’t been ready to pin a social worker to the floor for assault, either, and she had.

She groaned internally, but kept composed and raised one hand. “If you don’t mind, Adam, I am rather busy at the moment,” she said, irritation already flying off her voice like sparks. “If you would allow–”

“You bitch!” Kelly screamed, stamping her foot down. Carolyn winced at the childish display. “This is your fault, isn’t it, you self-righteous bitch?!” God, Carolyn felt like she was dealing with a toddler’s tantrum before she’d had her coffee. “You call Susie nosy, and yet you’re the one who won’t stay out of peoples’ lives.” Susie? Really? “You’re ruining people’s lives, you know that!?”

Carolyn took a deep breath, trying her hardest to remain professional. If she had another outburst, she might lose her job, and she needed this job. “Kelly, Adam, I would love to resolve this with you, but, at the moment, I am talking to–”

“No!” Adam interjected, putting a hand between herself and the worker she had been speaking with. “You tried to ruin our lives. Do you understand that? Because of you, we may never be able to have a child!”

Carolyn could feel her temple throbbing.

“Alright. Fine.” She turned to Miss Peachery with the sweetest smile she could muster. “If you would excuse me, it would seem that there are urgent matters which I must attend to immediately.”

The elderly woman nodded, taking a step back. “I understand. Let me know if I can be of any assistance.”

Once she had stepped away, Carolyn turned to the Greenes with a sigh. “Alright, let’s handle this–”

“You have a lot of explaining to do, missy!” Kelly shouted.

“–like adults,” Carolyn finished, peering down at Kelly. She took another deep breath. “Let’s start by clearing up some confusion. What, exactly, makes you think I ruined your life?”

Adam pointed a finger at her, face cherry red. “You reported us to the police!” He pointed a finger out the door. Carolyn had no idea what it was he was supposed to be indicating. “We are being sued for child abuse. We may never get to adopt a child, all because of you! ”

Carolyn’s initial thought was, ‘I don’t get paid enough for this.’ Then, she realized that she actually wasn’t getting paid for this, because this bullshit wasn’t part of her job. Even better.

“Look, I’m sure that’s very difficult for you,” she said smoothly. “However, I do not know what you are talking about. I have never made a report against you.”

“You liar!” Kelly practically shrieked. “Who else would do such a thing? You’re the one taking care of the boy. You’re trying to ruin my life because you’re jealous. So you know how immature that is!?”

Carolyn stifled an actual laugh. “Jealous of what?”

“That I’m Susie’s best friend now. You know, you’re so petty and bitter!” Kelly started shouting. “You’re jealous that we’re both happily married. You just want to ruin our happiness because you hate us now!”

Lord, give her patience, because if you gave her strength, she would abuse it. “I see. First of all, I am not jealous. I do not envy the relationship that you and Susan have. There is a reason we are not friends anymore,” Carolyn said, her voice starting to heat up ever so slightly. “Second, I would never do anything to ruin your life. Believe me, Kelly, I would never stoop so low.”

“Oh, if you didn’t make that report, who did?” Adam asked, raising his body up as though that would scare Carolyn into confessing something. She straightened her back more to remind him that she was nearly as tall as he.

“Even if I had a clue what you were talking about, I would not be allowed to say,” she informed the couple.

Adam scoffed hard. “That is what you people all tell us! All of this ‘confidentiality’ shit. This is our future at stake, Carolyn! Do you understand that, Miss Nurse?”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Carolyn hissed between her teeth.

“No!” Kelly shouted. “Not until you te–”

“What is going on here?”

Carolyn turned her head to see Darlene and Scott approaching from the waiting room. Darlene was looking at the Greenes with wide eyes, while Scott was glaring.

“Ah, Kelly, Adam,” Darlene said in the most mock-sweet voice Carolyn had ever heard from her. “Are you finally here to visit Misha?”

Kelly went quiet for a moment as she looked Scott and Darlene up and down. She suddenly gasped and glared. “ You! ”

Alright, that’s it.

“Let me take you to the conference room,” Carolyn interjected. “Let’s keep this out of the public eye.”

“Fine! God, Carolyn,” Kelly spat, crossing her arms. She smirked and made eye contact with her, those pale blue eyes sparkling with something petty and cruel. “You and your secrets .”

Carolyn felt her blood go cold as she hurried back to the conference room. That smirk, those eyes. Here she was, playing mind games as though Carolyn were an easy to manipulate teenager. Still, Carolyn didn’t feel like facing another round of humiliation today. Kelly and Susan loved to hold that once-secret above her head to keep her looking down in shame. The flowers that had once been used to poison her life were now wilted. Alas, those bitches never wanted to throw out old flowers, as if it was classy to keep them long after they’d dried out.

Arriving at the conference room and seeing it empty, the nurse guided the others in. Then, she groaned under her breath as she shut the door. Lord, give her patience because she would use strength to crack someone’s jaw.

The others each sat down in a chair, Kelly and Adam on the opposite side of Darlene and Scott. Carolyn sat near Scott and Darlene as Kelly slammed her hand down. “You’re the ones who got us in trouble with the police!” she accused immediately. “You realize I’ll never adopt a child!?” She frantically started pulling papers out of her purse, an inhaler, lipstick, and glasses wipes falling on the table. “Don’t act like this isn’t your doing!”

Scott and Darlene looked over the papers, their faces firm with resolve. “We only helped–”

“Aha!” Kelly screamed. Carolyn flinched back, her ears starting to hurt from the woman’s constant shouting. “You admit it! How could you do this to us?! This investigation will keep us from ever adopting a child.”

Darlene met their eyes. “If you’re so worried about how this lawsuit will ruin you, I’m inclined to believe that the child abuse allegations are true.”

“Child abuse?” Adam shouted. He slammed a fist down. “How could you accuse us of such a thing? That boy should be grateful we let him stay with us. Especially after the wine fiasco, which I’m sure you both remember clearly.”

How could Carolyn forget? That day, Noel had come home fuming about how the “delinquent boy” was in their choir now. Father Markus, in his never-ending empathy, had invited Misha as an alternative to juvenile detention, insisting that the group would be a positive influence on Misha. Carolyn had been horribly worried Misha would be a danger and bad influence on Noel.

How horribly wrong she’d been, it turned out.

“Yes, I indeed remember that well,” Carolyn said.

“Then you understand how hard it was for us!” Kelly exclaimed. She put her hands on her chest, starting to tear up. “It’s impossible to control him!”

“Control him? You can’t control a teenager, Kelly,” Darlene said with a weak laugh. “You’re supposed to support and guide them. Clearly, you’re not doing a very good job.”

Adam clenched his fist. “Dammit, Darlene, you wouldn’t know because your daughter is a perfect fucking angel, huh?” He gestured violently with his hand. “You don’t have to deal with her acting out, drinking, getting high, or sleeping around. We have had to deal with a grown-ass man!”

“‘Grown-ass man,’ my ass,” Scott spat. “Misha is barely eighteen. He was by no means an adult when you took him in.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Sixteen might as well be an adult. Even if he was being, as you call it, ‘abused,’ he isn’t a child. He knows better than to steal wine and poison a child.”

“My little nephew!” Kelly cried out. “Daniel had to get his stomach pumped because that delinquent gave him wine– stolen wine. ” She gasped and looked down. “We’d introduced him to the family that day to be kind, and he tried to kill my little Daniel!”

“I’m not saying that that incident is justified,” Scott said hotly. “What I’m saying is that, as parents, you shouldn’t have–”

“Do you know how heartbroken I was when I never got my baby?” Kelly whined. “Do you know how humiliating it was to be forced to take in–”

Scott gripped the edge of the table. “ Forced!? You adopted him! You chose to take in a child, and you let him down!”

“He let us down when–”

“ Stop it! ” Darlene shouted. “No! You chose to take in a child from a dangerous situation, chose to open your home, chose to open your hearts. And what did you do? You locked the kid in a basement when you decided you didn’t like him! You refused to look at him and barely fed him. No wonder he was angry and started acting out! You failed as parents.”

Carolyn hadn’t seen Darlene that angry in almost a decade. She stared at her, mouth partially open. Basement, neglect, poorly fed… The shock had Carolyn tearing up ever so lightly. She turned her face back to the Greenes, who seemed so shocked by the normally gentle woman’s outburst that they couldn’t offer a rebuttal.

For a moment, there was shocked silence, and nobody knew how to break it. Kelly looked like a middle schooler caught drinking for the first time, while Adam looked like he’d been caught with his hands covered in blood. Darlene, teary, was glaring so sharply, Carolyn almost felt it on her skin. Scott was holding the Greenes captive with his stare– a stare colder than Carolyn had seen on him in all their years. Carolyn wanted a way to break it, to get the Greenes out of her sight so she could let out the anger she felt bubbling up in her stomach and chest.

The silence was broken by the door opening. Carolyn turned to see the literal last faces she needed to see right now. Her heart dropped directly into that boiling in her stomach.

“Susie!”

Kelly reached out, and Susan immediately ran over to be next to her. She pulled out her phone as she sat down, frantically typing. Allen shook hands with Adam as he moved to sit next to his wife.

“What are you doing here?” Carolyn asked dryly. She held back a nasty glare at the Pottses, watching as Susan started typing furiously.

There was a buzzing sound, and Kelly grabbed her phone. She read over a text and looked up at Carolyn. “You didn’t think we’d handle this alone, did you?”

Carolyn pressed her toes against the floor as hard as she could. “With all the respect you deserve, Susan, this has nothing to do with you. If you would please–”

“She’s supporting her friends,” Kelly said, hooking an arm through Susan’s. “Because if you didn’t report us, we know it was you who reported Cordy.”

Kelly must have seriously thought she was in grade six, because what kind of a name was Cordy–

The smell hit before she saw her. Carolyn put a hand over her nose and mouth as she saw two horribly unhygienic people walk around the table and sit next to the Pottses. Cordelia smiled gently at the other women, falling into the chair that Allen had left for her. Her eyes were so far off and ditzy it was a wonder she could walk. Robert plopped down next to her, and Carolyn could swear an invisible cloud of weed billowed from him.

“How are you even here?” Darlene asked, voice muffled by the hand pinching her nose.

“Yeah, how did you stay on the road when you were seeing major trails?” Scott asked coldly.

Susan typed something, and Kelly looked at her phone. “Susie says she and Allen brought them here. Girls supporting girls, you know? Wait a minute, you wouldn’t know.” Kelly and Susan briefly glanced at one another before smirking at Carolyn.

Cordelia nodded, smiling messily at her friends. “Good one, Kelly.”

Cordelia and Robert’s arrival abruptly reminded Carolyn of the secret she had close to her chest now. She could feel its petals trying to push open against her fingers. Only glancing at it herself, she saw how bright and dangerous it was. Carolyn wanted to keep it hidden, but the appeal of showing off a flower like that, if only out of petty spite, gave her a sick invigoration.

“What’s wrong, Carie?” Kelly asked.

“That’s not my name,” Carolyn said quickly.

Adam put a hand on Kelly’s back. “I’m sure she’s just uncomfortable because she doesn’t have a husband to protect and take care of her.” Carolyn met his eyes and wished she could stab him with her stare. “Where is Pierre now?” Her blood boiled.

“Ontario, Montana, Calais, Hell, who cares?” Carolyn spat. She felt Darlene put a hand on her arm to hold her back. She jerked away for fear of burning her.

“I don’t understand why you hated Pierre so much,” Cordelia said. “He was the only fun you could have ever had. I don’t know how you were the stiff one.” Cordelia giggled like a drunk. The sound chipped at Carolyn’s patience. Cordelia knew what she was doing, but Carolyn assumed she had no clue that every word she spoke increased the boiling in her blood. Carolyn grew more and more tempted to show those blooming petals. “No wonder he left you. You would’a tied him down.”

“Stop it, Cordelia! That’s enough.” Carolyn swore her skin was turning red all over from how hot and angry she felt.

A vibrating sound. Kelly looked at her phone and laughed. “Susan’s right. She’s just jealous that Pierre got to go enjoy life.”

If they couldn’t hear her steaming, they’d hear her shout. “‘Enjoy life!?’ The bastard never did anything enjoyable; he sat on his ass and got drunk half the time!”

“Why can you never be happy for anyone?” Adam asked. “He actually got out of town instead of dealing with your temper.”

“ My temper?!”

“Just be happy he got out of this town,” Robert said. “He’s out adventuring. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Good thing?!” Carolyn's palms slammed down, fingers spread out, just like the bright petals of that secret flower. “He abandoned both his children!!” Carolyn shouted. The petals were open, bright and on display. It was so shocking in comparison to the wilted flower that everyone had been holding over her, trying to cast a shadow. Theirs were wilted and well-known among everyone in this group. Carolyn’s was fresh, completely new to the others in the room.

Cordelia looked more shocked at her volume than her words, but Robert seemed like he’d been smacked to sobriety for a moment. Allen, Adam, Susan, and Kelly each had a look of mild surprise, as if they’d been expecting her to yell out something at her own expense instead of his. She couldn’t see them, but she knew that Darlene and Scott would be staring at her with the widest eyes. She refused to meet them, glaring at the rest of the group with the hatred she had kept inside for years.

The door opened.

Carolyn spun around to shout at whoever to leave them alone. She stopped with her mouth open when she saw sweet Miss Peachery standing there. “Is… Is now a bad time?” she asked, glancing around at the angry faces of the group.

As a matter of fact, Carolyn needed her just about now.

___

The door opened, and Misha lazily looked up from his notepad. The face of Mary poked in. She smiled. “Hey, do you boys want to get up and stretch your legs?”

“Yes!” Noel said, throwing his legs over the side.

“Absolutely!” Misha added, slowly moving to his feet. His body still hurt, but he was capable.

Ricky pushed himself to sit up fully and dropped their legs over the side. Mary nodded and adjusted the wheelchair that was kept in the room to be easier for him to transfer into.

“Nurse Gruber actually gave the suggestion,” Mary explained. She glanced at the door. “You three are on the path to being discharged anyways. Besides, today is special.”

“Where are we going? Not just to the bathroom, I hope?” Misha said, only partly joking. They’d barely gone anywhere recently. It genuinely was an adventure to go to new places.

“You have the opportunity to visit someone,” Mary told them with a smile. “You see, your friend Miss Lamb just got transferred into the same room as the other girls.”

The boys’ heads all snapped up to her. She startled from the sudden intensity of their gaze. “The girls are together?” Noel asked.

“Yep!”

“What are we waiting for?!” Misha shouted. He quickly walked over to Noel, taking one of his hands with his good one. “Let us go talk to them! Let us go now.”

Ricky sent them a look that very clearly stated, ‘Give me a second.’ But if that gleam in their eyes was any indicator, they were just as excited to see them.

Once Ricky was comfortably in his wheelchair, Mary led them out. Although one of his arms was in a cast, Ricky managed to propel himself the whole way.

Finally , they’d be able to talk about it. They’d be able to be together. They’d be able to work it out. They’d be able to know that they were all alive. Once they did, they’d be okay. Maybe, then, things would go back to normal.

If they were ever going back…

Chapter Text

3 November 2009

“I’m used to this scene. I’ve been a social worker with fostering for two decades,” Miss Peachery assured Carolyn, coming to sit at her right hand. “I’ve seen it all.”

“You got a fucking social worker involved, Carolyn?” Adam spat, breaking the tension. Scott and Darlene started talking with their eyes. Everyone else turned their attention to the man yelling. “Why don’t you mind your fucking business?”

Carolyn gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles were white. “First of all, I am not involved in the lawsuit with Misha. Second, had I known, I would have. As a nurse, I am a mandatory reporter. I am doing my job. Second, I–”

“Your job is to take care of people, not ask questions.”

“Asking questions is literally part of my job, Adam.”

“You need to learn to mind your own business,” Robert said, leaning forward so his elbows were on the table, Carolyn made a mental note to disinfect the room later. “We don’t need you harshing our mellow.” Her brain was melting just from hearing this. “And trying to get the police involved is totally harshing our mellow.”

“If the police got involved, how are you not in jail right now?” Carolyn spat, her patience with Cordelia and Robert now pushing daisies.

“Our friends are sticking with us. I know you wouldn’t fully understand, Carie,” Cordelia said, her words slow and smudged together. “They offered to help us out of that little… pickle you put us in.”

“My name is Carolyn ,” the nurse said firmly. “So they bailed you out? I assume the investigation is still happening, then?”

“Yeah, those nosy sons of bitches are still on our ass,” Robert said. “Not cool, Care-Care, not cool.”

“Quit it. You don’t see me calling you ‘Robs’ or ‘Bobby.’ That’s because we are not friends,” Carolyn told them sternly. “Now listen to me. I may have made the report, but clearly I had a reason to. You committed the crime, not me.”

“What crime?” Cordelia asked. Her eyes were so glossed over that Carolyn supposed she must have been serious .

“Child neglect,” Carolyn reminded her, face hardening.

“Now, now,” Robert said. “Neglect is such a harsh word.”

“Believe it or not, Robert, sometimes the harsh word is the right one.”

“How so? We let you keep her here after that crash, now, didn’t we?” Cordelia said.

“And that is another reason we’re here,” Robert pointed out. “Now your fancy medicines and gadgets and doo-dads may be fun, but what Ocean really needs is some fresh air and good Mother Earth.”

“Excuse me?” Carolyn deadpanned.

“She needs to come home.”

“Come home?”

“Don’t you worry; we’ve got all the medicine she needs,” Cordelia said. She started playing with her hair. Ocean had been right about Cordelia’s hair being a gross mess. It was knotted, matted, and so greasy that her fingers were shiny now.

“Medicine?”

“Yeah! Not any of this stuff with chemicals and needles,” Robert butted in. “We’re giving her the stuff the Earth gives us.”

“You’re what? ”

“Now I know she doesn’t love it, but she needs it,” Robert explained. Carolyn clenched her hands so hard that her short nails pressed into her skin. “So if you don’t mind, we’re going to take her home and take care of her the way nature intended.”

“The way– Do you– Who the– Are you even aware of how badly she was injured?” Carolyn asked.

“It must have been pretty bad, if you insisted on trapping her in this unnatural place instead of letting nature work,” Cordelia said.

Carolyn felt a hot flare inside. Robert and Cordelia weren’t even concerned about their daughter anymore. They weren’t even convinced that their “sustainable” way of living was good because it was good for the Earth. They were just horrible pot addicts at this point, so sure that the plant was a miracle they’d allow, no, encourage their child to suffer.

“Trapping her– She is here to recover! Hospitals are for taking care of people!”

Cordelia waved her hand. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in all of that.”

“Ocean wasn’t even born at a hospital, and she’s fine,” Robert insisted.

Cordelia looked around at the rest of the group, resting a hand over her heart. “I opted for an all-natural birth with Earth’s painkillers. She was born a little early, but she was fine!”

Nothing about that sounded okay or safe or healthy. Not in any way. Not in any shape. Not in any form.

“You what? ”

Darlene put her hands out. “Okay? Round of applause? Standing ovation? You risked your baby’s life while high?”

“It’s not like she’s dead,” Cordelia added with a shrug– a shrug . Carolyn could practically feel her fingers dig into the thorns of that secret flower she held, the poison promising. “She didn’t die then, and she didn’t die now. Hey, think of it like I have. This was all a blessing in disguise.”

“A blessing? ”

“Yes. It’s been nice not having to worry about Ocean’s worries. It’s all this ‘studying’ and ‘applications’ and ‘projects’ stuff with her. Honestly, I’m relieved she’s going to be an adult soon. She really needs to go on a personal journey,” Cordelia started prattling on.

Carolyn’s heart was thudding in her ears. She could feel the heat of her blood rushing everywhere. Their brain cells had to be melted, fried, dissolved! How could they in any way see the harm that came to their daughter as a “blessing?” How their child could be hospitalized, in a coma, and falling apart at the seams, yet they only came here to confront her about reporting their horrible treatment of said child was beyond her.

“So if you don’t mind,” Robert cut into her thoughts. “We’ll be taking her home so we can all sort this out.”

Carolyn shot out of her chair so fiercely that it clattered on the floor. “You will not be taking her home!” She leaned over and all but snarled at Cordelia. “You’re talking about taking her back to that filthy house of yours where you would give her pot in place of safe medical attention or any attention for that matter!” Though already loud, Carolyn’s voice began to climb in volume until she was just about screaming. “As long as I am in a position to help, I will not let you take her just so you can neglect and ignore and mistreat and emotionally abandon her!!”

“She’s not your daughter!” Robert argued, standing up to meet her eyes.

“She’s not yours either!” Carolyn snapped.

Just like that, she held that flower for everyone to see, flaunting its vibrancy and freshness as though it was her most prized possession. She was showing the more intriguing secret now, and she would use that to her advantage.

Stunned silence. Carolyn smelled the pot on Robert’s breath as he laughed humorlessly. Carolyn stood taller, bringing herself away from the stench. All eyes were on her. She was covered in shame, but she held her head up because she held all the right cards now. All she had to do was play them.

“And since Ocean wasn’t born at a hospital, I’m going to gamble that she doesn’t have a birth certificate. Meaning that you have absolutely no legal right to her,” Carolyn said. That was one card on the table. She took a breath and stared at Robert until he sat back down. “She is not your daughter biologically, legally, or emotionally, so you had better shut your mouth.”

A beat. A buzz. Kelly looked at her phone, then back at Carolyn.

“How could you know that?” she asked.

Carolyn looked over at her coldly. “Their earlobes.” She pointed at Cordelia, then Robert as she placed her first card face-up on the table. “They both have attached earlobes. Ocean’s are unattached. That’s not biologically possible. Attached earlobes are a recessive trait. Her father would have to have unattached earlobes, which Robert does not.” She swallowed the last shred of her pride and played another card. “Pierre, however, did.”

Silence again.

She cleared her throat. “It’s basic Mendelian genetics. No blood tests necessary.”

Carolyn was humiliated, and yet the silence made her feel powerful.

The thing about poisonous plants was that they had a tendency to be brightly colored, not to be beautiful, but as a warning. Well, this flower had bloomed with all the brilliancy one could picture, and it was indeed dangerous. Carolyn planned to use it against those plant-smokers. Fitting, in a way.

“I’m still her mother,” Cordelia said. She almost looked lucid. She didn’t follow it up, as if that fact wouldn’t help make the point she actually wanted to.

“Yes, you are,” Carolyn confirmed softly. “I’m sure that will help you when you’re on trial for drug use, which likely led to Ocean being born premature. Oh, and I’m sure the judge will consider that when they go over Ocean being visibly underweight because you insisted on an entirely organic diet from when she was a toddler. Or your neglect of her hygiene. Or confessing to a room full of people that you planned to give your daughter pot as a substitute for intensive medical care.” She could have gone on, but she left it there because she was itching to drop one last card. “I’m sure you don’t want to deal with the trials and the drama. It’ll hurt your aura.” Cordelia almost looked offended, but she still stared quietly. “I could put you through weeks, even months, of trials for severe child neglect. Luckily for you, I am already looking at weeks to months of trials in regards to the accident that could have killed our kids. So let’s make this more ‘chill’ for us all. Am I speaking your ‘lingo?’” She smirked as condescendingly as she could. “If you want to cut that time down and get it all off your back, just sign away your parental rights. I’ll take it from there. Your decision.” Her last card was down. She had never been served particularly good cards in life, but in this game, they were what she needed to win.

“Don’t you dare do it,” Robert told her, his face hard as stone.

“Shh, I’ll think about it,” Cordelia said, waving her lover off almost casually.

Carolyn’s heart broke at how little Cordelia seemed to care, but it soared at the idea that this might end up being over sooner. She righted her chair and sat down as Cordelia pondered her situation and Robert stared at her in shock. The poison of Carolyn’s secret ran through them, and the sick satisfaction made Carolyn feel calm about the entire scandal for the first time.

Allen and Susan were giving her the nastiest look she had seen from them in twenty years. She met them with no expression. Maybe she was being cruel, maybe this was overly dramatic, maybe she had ruined Robert and Cordelia's lives, but she would keep those kids safe.

“You people are heartless,” Adam said quietly.

“Says the abuser,” Scott spat.

Like that, everyone stood, and the room exploded into arguments.

“You don’t have the right–”

“If you think I’m going to let you–”

“–both delusional if you–”

“–to ruin our future–”

“–prefer ‘enlightened–’”

“More like ‘heightened!’”

“The yelling is really disrupting the aura–”

“Can it!”

“–point. Yelling isn’t helping. You just sound immature.”

“Well you sound like a petty cunt!”

“Ohhh she’s right though–”

“Don’t you dare speak to my wife like that!”

“Don’t yell at my wife!”

“Yoo, you need to chill the hell out, man.”

“Why don’t you shut–”

“Hey, don’t harsh my–”

“Deal with it!”

“Oh that’s just like you–”

“–some goddamn hero–”

“–really not necessary–”

“–a villain, then! And another–”

“–when we could all chill out and let–”

“–attitude is not helping your–”

“ Attitude?! What am I, thirteen?”

“This tantrum suggests–”

“You shut your mouth before I punch it!”

“ Enough! ”

All the adults suddenly went quiet, heads snapping to look at Miss Peachery, who was now standing on a chair, looking at all of them like they were naughty children at a daycare. The elder crossed her arms and stared them down. Slowly, they all took their seats, even Allen.

“It seems there are far more issues involving this group of kids than I expected,” Peachery said calmly. She stepped off her chair and stood as tall as she could. Everyone stiffened. “I came here to address a situation with a different case, but I have heard enough to prompt interference in several other households. And, as a mandatory reporter, I have every right to do that.” She looked around. “Those, however, can be dealt with later, seeing as the children are safe in this institution. I have a job to do now. Mr. and Mrs. Potts, you are dismissed. Mr. and Mrs. Greene, you are dismissed. Ms. O’Connell, Mr. Rosenberg, you are dismissed.” She fixed her gaze on the Greenes and O’Connell-Rosenbergs. “If you want to keep custody of your children, I suggest you cease making yourselves look worse.”

For some reason, possibly only because they didn’t want to be any further incriminated, the aforementioned got up and left quietly. When the door was shut, Darlene leaned forward. “What about us, Miss Peachery?”

She smiled at them gently. “You’re not in trouble. In fact, you might be able to help us.” Miss Peachery came around and sat where Kelly had been just a moment ago. She folded her hands in front of herself quaintly. “Now, I initially came here to speak with you about the situation with the Lamb kids, Nurse Gruber.”

Chapter Text

3 November 2009

The moment the door clicked behind Miss Peachery, Darlene and Scott turned towards Carolyn, eyes absolutely bursting with the shock they'd kept inside for the duration of that conversation.

Carolyn put up her hands and scooted her chair back. “Please, I do not need to hear–”

“Why didn't you tell us?” Darlene asked, reaching a hand out but faltering. “You know you can tell us anything, don't you?”

Carolyn swallowed hard and started staring at the hands in her lap. It was like she was holding that poisonous secret in her hands, open for them to gawk at.

“I… I told you that Pierre was unfaithful,” she said softly. She hadn't told them until years after she'd found out. That was when they'd come to confide in one another, and everything had spilled from her. I'm that period of time, she was surrounded by a garden of secrets that only these two saw. 

“But you didn't tell us he had an illegitimate child,” Scott reminded her. Carolyn tightened her hands in her lap. “How long have you known that?”

Carolyn swallowed hard. “I suspected from the moment I discovered he'd cheated on me. I’ve always wondered if Cordelia’s child could have been his,” she confessed. “I wasn't certain until I noticed it yesterday. I had to double-check my logic later, but I knew deep down that it was true.”

“Does Pierre know about this?” Scott asked. “Is he aware? Did he even care?”

“I don't know,” the nurse confessed, moving a hand to rub her temples. She hadn't been prepared to even show this flower to everyone, let alone allow Darlene and Scott to see all the details of every petal. All she’d wanted was to keep Ocean safe, even if that meant doing something irrational that hurt people. She had been so focused on her goal that she didn’t fully realize it would have permanent consequences. “I never mentioned it to him. I suppose I was afraid to say it out loud.” Or afraid of him. “He may have known. If you really get a good look at them, it makes sense. Her eye color is so similar to his. She's a redhead, but Robert's hair is nearly black, and Pierre was strawberry blond. Her nose is almost the same. She–”

“Carie,” Scott intervened. Carolyn sighed and looked up at him. His face was soft, not judgmental. “Is… Is this why–”

“Please don't,” Carolyn muttered, scanning both of their faces.

“You've always paid so much attention to her,” Darlene said anyway. “You've always wanted Noel to get along with her. You've always–”

“I am aware,” Carolyn said with more force than intended. “Yes, I've worried about her. I've always hated Cordelia. Anyone would, in my place.” She crossed her arms and leaned back. “You care for her too.”

“Because she's Constance's best friend,” Darlene added. “That's different, because you are–”

“More or less technically her step-mother?”

“... That isn't what I was going to say,” Darlene said softly.

Carolyn blushed and looked at her lap again.

“Carie?” Darlene whispered.

Carolyn didn't respond.

“You… You do realize it's not your fault Pierre cheated on you, right?” Scott asked. He put a hand out towards her. “It's important to me that you understand that.”

No reply.

“Carolyn,” Darlene started tenderly. “I know you're conditioned to feel ashamed and all, but…” She took a steady breath. “You didn't do anything wrong. You treated him well and gave him your attention. He's the disgusting bastard who betrayed your trust.” She said it so calmly, but there was an undertone of loathing. “None of this is your fault. You are not responsible for Pierre's affair. You are not responsible for Cordelia's actions. You are not responsible for Ocean. You are not–”

“Just stop.” Carolyn looked back up at them. “It doesn't matter whether her existence is a consequence of an affair that wasn't caused by my neglect of my marriage–” She took a sharp breath to cut that topic off. “She is my patient. She is a child in need of help. I have been willfully ignorant for too long. I have to do something. I knew her situation was bad, but I didn’t realize it was as bad as it is . I'm not guilty because I want to make up for what Pierre did. I'm guilty because I didn't help sooner. I'm guilty because they all could have died, and I would have lost my chance to make things right–”

Scott's arms were around her. Carolyn was frozen for a moment, wondering if Scott was uncomfortable at the angle he was standing to embrace her while she was sitting. Then, the tears suddenly fell. She stood to properly hug him, her chin resting on his shoulder. Darlene immediately stood and hugged Carolyn around her midsection, forehead resting on her back.

“You're a good person,” Scott whispered.

“And a good mom,” Darlene added.

Carolyn stood there, crying silently, allowing herself to truly believe them.

___

Margaret Peachery left the hospital, got in her car, and sat there for about an hour.

After just over twenty years, she was more than aware of the flaws of the foster system, but she worked to amend those. She had tried to prioritize the safety of foster children above connection with their biological families. She had concerned herself more with figuring out which families needed this program and which really didn't.

Margaret had seen children being abused in every way imaginable. She had seen families get twisted and dissipated. She had seen death, trauma, and loss every day. She had fought for rehabilitation over detainment. She had watched unhealthy families get forced back together. She had seen families actually heal and reunite. She had helped several kids get adopted into safer situations.

That was what she hoped to see happen this time around. The problem with Uranium City was that it was so small. There were few families here willing or able to take in children, especially teenagers. Those that were technically capable of it didn't seem to deserve it.

Margaret sighed as she actually turned on her car. As she left the parking lot of the hospital, her mind wandered back to that group of kids. It was both scary and interesting that half of a group nearly killed in the same accident were entangled in situations that they deserved to escape.

She couldn't do anything for the eighteen-year-old, but Margaret was actively praying that he'd succeed in escaping that house. She'd seen several people leave the foster system and sue their parents or guardians. She'd seen a few become homeless and give up everything. She'd seen too many of them turn to hatred and crime. What she hoped to see was one of those lovely cases where they turned over a new leaf and made the most of whatever they were left with.

However, for the others, she would do everything in her power to pull strings and get them set. Her goal was not to keep them with their birth family, but in this town. Uranium, from what she gathered, was one of those places where everyone was familiar with one another, having grown up together from the start. She'd hate to tear those kids from all they'd known, though the Lamb siblings had already suffered that. One thing Margaret knew about kids and teens suffering trauma was that they bonded. She'd watched biological and foster siblings alike become incredibly close, united by a shared trauma or experience. She knew nothing about these kids personally, but she would have bet her house that they would need to stay with one another. If nothing else, all teenagers had a tendency to rely on one another more than on their adult guardians.

The girl with the addict parents would be placed with a safe household in Uranium so long as Margaret Peachery was on the case. If that meant having to choose someone and making sure they were properly registered, Margaret would oversee the whole process. She had a good idea where that would be, but the girl had yet to even be in the system.

As for the Lamb siblings, she knew what she was going to do. Whether it meant pulling strings, going to court, or praying with everything she had, Margaret would keep them with the only semblance of security they could have had. Their current foster parents, however, would not be involved. Moreover, their previous worker would be in jail overnight, if she could help it.

Margaret sighed to herself as she pulled up to a stoplight. She had so much work to do. She'd have to fight. But just imagining a result where those kids were safe and set for a bright future…

Well, that possibility was the very reason Margaret Peachery endured all the tragedy she had to witness.

Chapter Text

3 November 2009

Mary left the boys there once she’d told the girls they had visitors.

When Noel pushed the door open, all six teenagers were left completely speechless.

The girls stared back at them in shock, all wide-eyed and silent. They seemed to be inspecting them for any sign that they were ghosts or angels. The boys stared at them in kind, suddenly so relieved to see them okay. After worrying, for just a moment, that they might be worse off or even gone–

When Noel got a good look at them, he suddenly noticed one thing about each still-bed-ridden girl. Aside from her eyes being a little extra wide, Jane– Penny had next to no facial expression. Ocean’s hair was a frizzy mess from being brushed out and not straightened. Constance had pink scars on her face, some more swollen and messy than others.

He teared up when she locked eyes with him, genuinely smiled , and whispered, “Noël!”

“Connie!”

Ignoring common regard for his safety, Noel rushed over and sat next to her. His hands gently came up to her head, gently cupping her cheeks. “Connie, oh my God, I’m so glad you’re okay!” He ran his left thumb over one of the milder scars, just beneath her eye. “Oh Connie…”

Constance reached up and pressed her hands, trapped in bulky casts as they were, to his. She gently pulled his thumb from her face. “Hey, hey, Noël, relax. I’m fine. I look cool, right?”

He laughed in disbelief. He’d always known Constance as a glass-half-full kind of girl, but he couldn’t believe that she was somehow acting okay at all right now. Noel had been the lucky one in terms of injury. He was filled with bittersweet relief now that he saw her. He was already breaking down, all the sore emotions from the moment of the accident bubbling back up to the surface. None of this felt okay, but holy fuck, he was alive, and Constance was alive, and everyone was alive , and that was more than they could have asked for when they missed the the track on the loop-de-loop.

“You look tragic and beautiful,” Noel told her as she wiped his tears. He laughed in spite of it all and grinned. “I’m jealous.”

Constance laughed, pulling him close for a hug. He hugged her back, trying so hard to show her just how badly he’d missed her cozy hugs without hurting them both. “I missed you, Noël…” she whispered, and Noel sobbed softly.

“I was so worried, Connie.”

God, they hadn’t used those nicknames in like two years. How long had it been since any of them were vulnerable around each other? How long had it been since they’d cried in each other’s arms?

Misha, meanwhile, let the door shut behind himself and Ricky. He noticed Ocean still staring at him and went to sit next to her. She looked up at him, hazel eyes empty of all complex thought. Life seemed to flicker back into them as he reached and touched her hand.

“Misha,” she said, her volume steady for possibly the first time since the accident. Though, the last time he’d seen her, Ocean had just unpredictably switched back and forth from whispers to shrieking. Ocean looked up at him, a little more aware now. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Misha moved a little closer to her. “How are you doing?”

“Not as well as you,” Ocean confessed. She nudged his hand, and he moved his fingers to hold hers. “Look at you, walking around like it’s no problem.”

“It isn’t,” he told her. He tried to keep concern from infiltrating his expression. “Is it a problem for you?”

“A little,” she said softly. “I’m not worried about it. Once I’m walking more, I’ll get better. All I need is some time and physical therapy.” His lips tried to twitch into a frown. “Come on, Misha. Have you ever known me to back down from a challenge?”

There she was. “Ha. Of course not, Imbyr,” he whispered to her. “I’m foolish.”

The moment Misha had gone over to Ocean, Ricky looked over at the only one still alone. Penny was staring off at the other pairs, her expression unreadable. Now that they weren’t freshly out of death’s grasp, he wasn’t breaking down crying, and she was awake, he could get a really good look at her.

Her face was nothing like the one he’d met her with. Her hair was long and brown, though it was definitely a bit curly. Her real curls, however, were messy and imperfect unlike the tight, neat style of the porcelain doll. Her skin was darker, although with the stark white of her substitute head, that was hardly saying anything. She had warm honey skin that was a little tan on the outsides of her arms. Really, Jane Doe looked nothing like her, but almost exactly like that doll in her lap. The only thing Penny shared with Jane was the far-off expression on her face. Ricky wondered if that was really Penny or an echo of Jane Doe. They supposed they just had to find out.

How much do you remember? How much do you know? What do I already know about you? What do I have to learn? I’m excited to learn about it. It’s not like we’ll be in school anyway. I can already tell you’re like me. You’re just a little different from everyone else. That’s all I know for sure. You and I are kindred spirits, I can tell. We are two stars apart from any constellation, but perhaps we are connected now…

Ricky struggled a bit with his cast, but he got his wheelchair in place beside her bed. He made sure to position himself a bit farther down from her body so that she wouldn’t have to turn her head to see him. Now that he was properly in her line of view, she turned her attention to him. For a moment, she just stared at him curiously, like a shy kitten. Unsettling as her unblinking stare was, Ricky couldn’t help finding it cute.

I don’t hold it against her, but I don’t know how Constance was so unsettled by you. How could you be scary? You’re so curious and… I can’t quite tell, but it’s rather intriguing.

He suddenly remembered that moment he had shared with her in the warehouse. She’d come to him for comfort, and he had tried his best to provide it, even letting her take the name he’d been saving. When he didn’t know what else to say, because what do you say when your breath catches in your throat and the thoughts swirl in your head so intensely that you can’t choose which ones to get out. Instead, he’d stood up and offered her a dance, his first and last slow dance. He’d supported her as her poor coordination had made her totter unsteadily. She’d given him the smallest, sweetest smile as he’d helped her spin.

You seemed so fragile, but that may have been the porcelain. Just looking at you, you seem so much stronger than I could have believed. I guess even I made assumptions. I guess that’s not something we can do with you. You’re a little too mysterious for that.

When she actually blinked, Ricky was brought out of the tender memory. He gazed at her eyes for a moment. Before, they’d looked into the holes of her eyes and imagined they could be portals into the night sky. Now, they looked into her bright green eyes and thought instead of emeralds and summer leaves. For a moment, they just stared into one another’s eyes, wordless. Ricky felt themself start blushing under the intensity after a moment. It took him a minute to even have a coherent thought.

Oh sweet stars, you do have the greenest eyes.

Penny was the one to break the silence. “You’re my hero.” If they weren’t blushing before, Ricky absolutely was now. He continued staring at her, suddenly unsure how to take the pen and pad from his lap and respond. “You saved my life. Just like you saved Zolar.”

You remember Zolar? You remember me, the real me?

The silence was so intense, Ricky was worried their thudding heart would be audible to everyone else in the room.

“On the rollercoaster. You saved me,” she continued softly. “I would have fallen. I would have died anyway.”

Ricky could recall. He remembered hearing her scream next to him, desperately trying to save herself when her lap bar had failed her. They remembered so vividly the feeling of her arms around them because her life depended on it. He only vaguely remembered how much it hurt to try and be strong when gravity was trying to take her from him. They remembered the relief of having her safe, just for a moment. They remembered the fucking terror when they’d left the track again, and she’d been knocked unconscious. Stroking her hair when it was just two two of them slumped by a tree. Crying as he prayed she’d make it this time. Having to lean on Misha and Noel because they had next to no strength left after that…

He finally picked up his pen and wrote her a short response. ‘You’re welcome :)’ He added a little star to it, smiling as he handed it to her.

She held their note up to her eyes and read it silently. She set the paper in her lap and gave him a little smile. He smiled back shakily.

On the other side of the small room, the others bit down smiles and held back inopportune comments.

“Oh, and my name is Penny,” she informed him. Ricky grinned wider. Her green eyes sparkled a little. “I have a name of my own now. You can keep Savannah. I know she's special to you.”

Confusion washed over everyone's faces, and they shared glances in hopes of finding the answer. Ricky just passed Penny a quick note, saying, ‘Thank you. I like Penny.’

Once she'd read the note, Penny told him, “Me too.”

For several minutes after that, there was a somewhat comfortable silence. Noel got comfortable next to Constance, still crying softly. Constance started crying as well, having to grasp Noel's hand to calm him down. Ocean slowly came to lean on Misha, careful not to hurt his casted arm, even when he assured her that he could not feel a thing. It took her a moment for her to relax, for her eyes to focus back into the present moment. Ricky and Penny just kept looking at one another, content not to say anything. They just listened to Noel and Constance sniffling until Ocean spoke up.

“So… Are we going to talk about it?” Ocean asked softly.

“Talk about what?” Noel asked, sniffling again.

She turned to look at him, eyes wide. “Talk about– The– We– Talk about us literally dying,” she said, motioning with one arm. “Are we gonna talk about what the heck happened?!”

For a moment, everyone just looked down and thought silently. There was fidgeting, the clearing of throats, and tearing up. The first one to answer was Misha. “What is there to talk about? We died. We came back. We're here.”

“But how? ” Ocean asked, looking up at him. “How? How did that happen? A novelty machine that could predict our death? The afterlife? We were gonna vote on who could go back, but I guess we're all back now! What was any of that for?! Why bring us back if our lives were going to be ruined anyways?!

“Ruined, what?!” Constance exclaimed. “Dying was one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“How?!”

“Ocean, I hated everything a couple of months ago,” Constance said. “When we went off that loop, everything just… blossomed in me. That morning, I couldn't wait to get away from my parents. I pushed my mom away when she tried to kiss my cheek. I sang the Uranium Suite song thinking about how much I wanted to leave. I threw away my virginity just because I was bitter and spiteful!” Everyone looked at her more pointedly now. “When I saw all those rides and the sunset, I just– None of that mattered! I just knew that I wanted to love everything, and I don't think it was just the adrenaline, because I still feel it. For a moment there, I thought I had lost my chance to live and actually enjoy it. My life wasn't ruined. It was saved , Ocean.”

Ocean frowned, looking back down at her lap.

“You… Constance…” Noel trailed off, squeezing her arm lightly. “Do you wanna talk about that?”

“I told you guys all about it,” Constance said with a smile. “And I mean that. The whole experience in purgatory was, like, a total blessing for me.”

“No,” Noel said. “I mean losing your virginity to a middle-aged carnival worker.”

“Yeah, that's really messed up,” Misha added, looking over at her, eyes flickering to the others. “Doesn't that technically count as rape? Like, he’s an adult .”

“Statutory rape? Unfortunately, no,” Ocean pointed out. She looked at Constance firmly. “The age of consent here is sixteen. But that doesn’t make any of that okay!”

Constance put her hands up, the casts making it look extra sad. “Sorry! Look, I know it wasn't okay. That's, like, why I wanted to do it. I just–”

“Sorry?” Noel repeated, turning towards her. “Sorry?! Connie, you should not be sorry.”

“That carnie is the one who should be sorry,” Misha said. “He took advantage of you.”

“It was an act of rebellion!”

“Which he took advantage of,” Noel argued.

“I let him–”

“That doesn't change the fifteen-year age gap,” Ocean reminded her. She sat up a bit and turned more towards her. Misha shifted slightly to support her. “Constance, none of that is your fault.”

Constance didn’t respond for a moment, her dark eyes fixed on Ocean. Slowly, she glanced around at the others, seeing deep concern on each of their faces. Even Penny was gazing at her sadly. Constance averted her eyes immediately. “Look, it won’t happen again, I’m sorry.”

“Quit saying that,” Noel practically demanded.

“Okay, sorry!”

“Oh my God,” Noel muttered, pulling her a little bit closer. “Connie…”

Constance sighed, leaning into him. “I’m fine, Noël. Besides, the fair isn’t in town anymore. All the workers will have gone home. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”

“They’re not gonna have a home when I’m done with them,” Ocean all but hissed. Ricky looked up at her with a small frown. “The moment I’m able to get in contact with a lawyer, I will end each and every one of the people involved with that carnival, starting with the one that shot us off on that ride and the one who touched my best friend.”

“Woah, calm down, Imbyr,” Misha said, moving his left arm to take back her hand.

The others exchanged quick looks. She was right. There were going to be months of trials. Trials in which they would have to relive this trauma just to be compensated for it. They’d still need medical care and counseling. Just the idea of what was ahead was daunting. Ricky slowly wrapped their arms around themself and looked down at their notepad.

“That will be on top of suing my adoptives,” Misha said. The girls all looked at him, eyebrows quirked. He hummed. “Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood offered to help me. They even offered me a place to stay.”

Constance’s eyes lit up. “That would actually be awesome, what? I’d love to have you over all the time. Then you wouldn’t be so bored in the afternoons, right?”

Misha grinned at her. “Yeah, I guess not. I’ve never really had a flatmate before. I think you would be great flatmate, Khmara. It would be cool.”

“So cool. You’ll love my house,” Constance agreed. “It smells like croissants every morning.”

Misha hummed warmly. “Sounds like heaven.”

“I bet it is,” Penny said softly. “I think I’d like to live in your house.”

The teens looked up at her now, curious how her face could look so calm. “Don’t you have a house of your own?” asked Ocean. She immediately regretted it when Penny’s wide eyes locked right on her.

“No,” Penny said softly. “My parents are gone. They were arrested. Ezra and I were in foster, but now we’re waiting for somewhere new. I can’t go anywhere else.”

“Who’s Ezra?” Constance asked, smiling gently and trying not to feel too nervous when Penny met her gaze.

“He’s my little brother. I have a little brother.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. I have a little brother too. Wesley’s four. How old is Ezra?”

Penny was quiet for a moment while her face shifted slowly. At first, there was almost fear in her eyes. It vanished suddenly into confusion. Then, she smiled slightly. “Three years later, Ezra.”

“So he’s three years younger?” Misha asked. Penny hummed in confirmation. “So fourteen. You… You are seventeen, right?”

“I’m not sure… I think so. Ezra said I was sixteen last year. So I must be seventeen now.” She frowned. “I’m not sure what my birthday is. Maybe I slept through it. Black bears are usually born in the middle of hibernation, meaning they sleep through their birthdays. They don’t emerge until March or April.”

Ricky looked up and blinked at her.

How about that? No memories, but you’ve retained information. I wonder what all you do know. I think your soul is here after all.

“Where is he if you two don’t have a home yet?” Ocean asked, unsure how to respond to that unprompted comment.

Penny glanced back at her. “One of the nurses offered to let him observe a surgery. He should be watching an endovascular repair right now.”

“Oh,” Constance said, pretending she knew what that meant. “Sounds fun.”

“He’ll enjoy it thoroughly.”

Again, quiet. As everyone else fell into a semi-comfortable silence, Ricky picked up a pen and paper. He started writing rather quickly. The others watched him but made no effort to inquire or try to fill the quiet. They just watched with varying levels of curiosity.

When he was done, Ricky managed to fold the page into a little plane. He glanced between the others, but decided to throw it to Noel. Noel reached and caught it in mid-air. As he unfolded it, he asked, “Do you want me to read it out loud?” Ricky nodded and quickly started writing another note. Noel flattened the note and read aloud, “‘I think it’s kind of cool that we’re all together like this. Two months ago, we could barely stand each other. We didn’t even know Penny. Now, we’re tied together by something beyond our comprehension. A fortune teller not only predicted our death, but reversed it. We were tied together by death, and now we get a chance to do that in life. This is straight out of a sci-fi movie. To think, of all the places a miracle could happen, Uranium. And of all the people that could have defied death, us. Even if we can’t tell others, this is so awesome. I have always had mixed feelings about fate as a concept. After all, the universe is so vast and complex, constantly being altered. How could any part of time be set in stone?’”

When Noel looked up, Ricky was tossing him another note. He caught it and opened this one to read as well. “‘It doesn’t even matter. If fate does exist, we defied it. That’s special, don’t you think? Something the six of us can share. We have an understanding of one another that nobody else possibly could. We might need that with everything that’s going to happen. I know I will.’ Okay, Ricky, I’m putting an end to this,” Noel said. He wiped his eyes, as he had started crying all over again. “ I’m supposed to be the poetic one.”

You are the poetic one, the romantic one, the sap. I’m just stating what I think. Gosh, I don’t think I’ve seen you cry like this in a long time, if ever. Are you okay?

Ricky smiled softly, unsure whether he should go try and calm him down. Constance, however, took care of it, hushing him. Penny hummed, so he looked up at her. “We have baffled Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. We are truly powerful.”

“Baffled who?” Misha asked.

“The goddess sisters. The Fates. We read about them in classic literature,” Ocean reminded. “They allot time for mortals to live, determine how many struggles they’ll face, and cut the strings of their life when it ends.”

“How does that work if our strings have already been cut?” Misha asked.

“Maybe we’re immortal,” Constance joked.

“I doubt that,” Ocean told her.

“Immortal until proven mortal,” Noel stated as though that was a definite answer.

“We were literally proven mortal,” Ocean said. “We literally died!”

“But we came back, right?” Noel asked. “Boom. Immortal until proven mortal.”

Ocean groaned and looked away. Misha chuckled softly at their antics.

Another beat.

“Ricky?” Ocean said. They looked up at her. She hesitantly met their eyes. “I’m really sorry. About… everything. I should never have treated you the way I did. You are not– You don’t deserve to die. You’re not illiterate; you’re actually, like, really smart. You’re not some sweet and innocent kid. You’re actually, like, far, far from it, and I’m sorry for not being open to that.” The memory of Ricky running across the warehouse floor to hug her as tightly as she could handle flashed through her whole body. “I take that back. Part of it. You are really sweet. Way sweeter than we deserve after everything. I… I don’t even know what else to say. I… I know you can’t… I just thought you should hear.”

Ricky was already writing something down. He glanced at Ocean as he finished the last few sentences. Nimbly as ever, he folded a little plane and threw it to her. Ocean tried to catch it, but just knocked it onto her lap. She slowly managed to unfold and read it.

‘Thank you, Ocean. That means a lot. But I forgave you. I know things have changed for us.’

Looking at him again, Ocean said, “But I don’t deserve your forgiveness. You forgave me when we were about to move on to who knows what. I don’t–”

Ricky made a motion to cut her off, so she stopped talking. A moment later, she was unfolding a new note.

‘Fine. Then you can earn it. We have time for that now.’

Ocean sighed and offered them a weak smile. She thought he had too much confidence in her, but she didn’t want to keep arguing with him.

Ricky gave her a soft smile worth a million words.

Another silence. This time, it felt more relaxed. Ricky moved back a bit to be closer to Penny.

After a few moments, Penny asked, “What do we do now?”

Ocean sighed heavily. “It’s going to be weeks before I, you, or Constance get out of here. Then we’re going through with that lawsuit. Then we get into counseling while we wait to go back to school, since I guess we’re just forced to be super seniors now. Until then…”

“We can just sit here,” Noel said, looking over. “Hang out. Like friends?”

“That sounds really, really nice,” Constance said calmly.

“So true,” Misha agreed.

“What do you mean? You told me we weren’t close,” Ocean pointed out.

“Not anymore,” Misha said, squeezing her hand.

Ocean smiled on the outside, but inside, she wished she could cry. She looked around at the other five, not sure whether she was glad that they were here or wished that she was alone. Either way, she didn’t want to push them away. She’d wait to cry until she was home, where her snot would block out the smell of weed. For now, she wasn’t going to wallow. After all, Ricky was right; they were closer now. She didn’t feel much more bonded to them. They were connected in a way that nobody else could perceive, but that didn’t make them bonded in heart, mind, and soul. Yet they knew too much about one another to not be considered close friends after that. And if they were willing to put up with her… they were idiots; idiots she appreciated. They weren’t perfect. God, they weren’t perfect. But she loved them. She meant it more than when she was desperately trying to make herself look not horrible. She meant it more than when she was screaming for them on the roller coaster. She loved them simply because they were here, staying by her side despite all the horrible things she had said to them. She loved them because they had opened her eyes. She loved them because they put up with her. She loved them because they were the only people that cared about her even a little. She loved them more than they would ever be able to love her, and she didn’t even mind.

Ocean knew she didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve their companionship. She didn’t deserve their support after the way she’d torn them down. She didn’t deserve to have Misha holding her close. She didn’t deserve Constance’s smiles. She didn’t deserve Noel’s tolerance. She didn’t deserve Ricky’s forgiveness. She didn’t deserve Penny’s friendship. She didn’t deserve any of this. The least she could do was stick by them from now on. The least she could do was sue the fair that had ruined their lives. The least she could do was give them unwavering support. The least she could do was treat them right. She could only hope she was capable of what Ricky seemed to have faith in. Again, Ricky was right; they were tied together. She didn’t think they could escape her if they tried.

At least not in this life, and not in a shared death…

They were on a team together. They were playing this together.

Except…

Except they weren’t playing. Because this wasn’t some game. Life was too tragic, complex, unique, beautiful, and precious to be a game.

Ocean looked around at the others once more, her eyes shining. Her throat felt clogged with emotion. She swallowed, took a breath in, and let a breath out. When she tried to find the words to describe the feeling, they came out as gentle singing.

“It's not a game. Maybe that's news,” she started quietly. The others looked over at her. “'Cause no one will win here, and no one can lose. There's no one to measure our foolish pride, and no one keeps score of how hard we tried.” A few tears fell down her cheek. There was a moment of quiet as she felt vulnerable and a little foolish.

Then, Constance, just as softly, joined in so they sang the same melody, “This ride, it has heartbreak. This ride, it has pain.”

His voice tender, Noel joined them, “All kinds of blue skies, no shortage of rain.”

Then Misha’s voice added to the sound, “Yes there is laughter and the telling of lies.”

Penny melded into the melody, “And maybe in darkness, we open our eyes.”

There was another short quiet. Noel smiled back before turning his head to Ocean. The two shared a warm expression for the first time in, likely, years. Ricky reached up and gently took Penny’s hand. She gave him a tiny smile and oh so gently squeezed his. Smiling, Ricky looked around at the others, taking in the beauty of their harmonies, combined for the first time in weeks, as they continued their legato song. Gradually, they made a light crescendo.

“And you give and choose while you love and lose. And you feel the world is spinning with no ending or beginning,” the five voices rang together, likely audible from the hallway now. They smiled at one another. At some point, tears had started streaming down every face in the room.

“You just take a look around…”

They had each other now.

“Take a look around…”

And they weren’t leaving.

“Take a look around…”

And they were alive .

“And round, and round, and round…”

Chapter Text

Hello! This is Lynn Canigula, coming to you personally. I just wanted to say a super huge thank you to everyone who has read and supported Are We Ever Going Back?

This has been, by far, my most successful fic ever. Your encouragement has meant the world to me. Every time I got a comment, it absolutely lit up my day. Your concern for your favorite characters, love for my OCs, and excitement to see the drama unfold was amazing to see. Those of you who commented on every chapter or almost every chapter are the reason I wrote this fic. It has been such an honor to bring joy to you guys. I've always been proud of my writing, and knowing that it had so many people hooked just made me more confident and happy in what I do!

I know that some of you don't regularly check AO3 and usually get notifications via e-mail, so I wanted to also take the opportunity to let you know that the second part of the series has begun. I have way more written that published. I'm trying to save some up for when I get busy in the next few months so that you aren't waiting horribly long! I'd love love love to see you all in the comment section of How Can This Be Fair? There will be more way more fluff, some more angst, a whole lot of lore, new characters, love, loss, and so much chaos. The St. Cassian Chamber Choir's adventure in this second life has only just begun.

As always, thank you so much for reading. I love you all a lot! Can't wait to see your reactions to new chapters.

Farewell, best of luck, avoid roasted cabbages, don't eat earwax, and look on the bright side of life!
Moonset!