Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Pomme organized for her parents to finally catch up again now that her mom was back, she didn’t think that they would fight. Granted, they thought she was asleep and it wasn’t all her parents. Kameto never came around anymore and BadBoyHalo left with Dapper hours ago. But Pomme couldn’t fall back asleep and the anxiety that her mother wouldn’t be here when she woke in the morning had prompted her into creeping down the stairs just to ensure that the rescue mission hadn’t all been in her head.

The whisper-shouted “You wish you knew what the hell you were talking about, Pierre,” from her mother had Pomme halting on the stairs and sitting down to listen to whatever they are talking about because clearly something had gone wrong.

”What I do know, Baghera, is that you left. You stayed behind and Pomme thought that you weren’t coming back,” Pierre snapped back. Oh no. Oh, no, no. This is not what Pomme wanted to happen. She just wanted to have her parents back in one place. She just wanted everyone to be together again. She just wanted to have a happy family and the idea that they might fight had never even crossed her mind.

”Oh! I left? Left? That’s something you know plenty about,” Baghera answered. Pomme didn’t want this. She saw her mom. She saw her in that arena. She knew her mom almost died. She almost didn’t get her mother back. She didn’t think that they would be fighting with her about this.

”Don’t put that on me,” Pierre snarled. They’re getting ugly. They’re getting bad. Her mom lives in a hole in the ground right now. Her mom isn’t doing well. Pomme knew this. She could see this. It’s so obvious. Her mom can’t even walk that long. Don’t they see it too? “You left. You left Pomme. You didn’t even try to come back. We heard you were alive from Etoiles.”

”Don’t drag me into this,” Etoiles said quickly. “I don’t want to be involved in your fighting.”

”I didn’t come back because I was being tortured, Pierre. Pomme was dead and I was tortured. I can’t come back. I’m not allowed,” Baghera snapped. Pomme slapped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. No, no, no. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t what she wanted to happen. “Don’t talk about leaving because you know an awful lot about that. Only you weren’t tortured. You left on your own.”

”What else was I supposed to do?” Pierre growled. “I was twelve.”

”I was eight! Eight! No memories and no idea where I was and sick and you left me with a six year old to fend for ourselves!”

”Don’t bring me into this!” Etoiles sputtered. “I am not in your fight!”

”I came back! We were kids! That’s not fair because you did the same thing two months later!”

”I was nine! I didn’t know what a street was! You really think I was capable of making smart decisions! I can’t even make them now! You know this, you knew it then too!”

”Pomme is sleeping,” Antoine called. “You’re going to wake her up.”

But Pomme was already awake. She was already awake and overhearing everything. She knew her parents had known each other a long time. Since they were kids. Pomme knew that. She didn’t know that they fought. She didn’t know that her mother had thought she was dead. That she’d been tortured.

”You can’t justify-“

”No note! No nothing! I was sick with a fever and you left! Woke up one day and you were gone! At least I told Etoiles. At least I said something. Don’t pretend like this was the same thing. I wanted to die and instead I was tortured. It’s not the same thing. I’m sorry I left Pomme. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. But given the circumstances, I don’t think it’s the same thing. I wouldn’t have stayed if I knew Pomme was alive.”

”Baghera, Pierre, you’re going to wake up Pomme,” Antoine warned again. Pomme didn’t wait to hear any more fighting. She turned around and crept back up the stairs and into bed.

She should have known. Her mother stared at her like she knew what it was like to lose her. Her mother couldn’t keep up like she used to. Small distances caused aches and pains and there was an almost constant look of absence that covered Baghera’s face when she thought Pomme wasn’t paying attention. She should have guessed that something truly awful had happened that made a hole in the wall the most comfortable place to call a home and for her to search for Cellbit every moment that they were separated in the same room.

She also should have guessed that there was something else going on. Her parents had always been close. Knew a lot about each other but always on their own. Spent more time by themselves than with others. They had said that they weren’t used to staying in one place for this long.

She should really talk to someone else. Maybe Richarlyson. He had a lot of parents. Maybe he knew what to do when they were fighting. Pomme just worried that there wouldn’t be a cure for what their problem was. That her mother was never going to be the same again. Maybe they won’t forgive each other and her parents would fight forever. Maybe they never did.

”What are you doing up?” Baghera asked softly, sitting down next to Pomme on the bad a few hours later. Pomme let her journal snap closed and turned to wrap her arms around her mother again. Deep breath in. She smelled like the river at her new house and the moss in the walls of her hole. A hint of her Tio’s smell too. Coffee and old paper and Pomme had always associated that with being tired because Cellbit always seemed so tired. “Did we wake you up?” Baghera’s voice sounded choked up. Like she’d been crying. Her mom did a lot of that now. Richarlyson said that his dad did a lot of that now too.

”No,” Pomme answered. And it was true. Except their fighting was what was keeping her awake. “I just couldn’t fall asleep again. Why? Were you being loud?”

Baghera shifted her on the bed to help her lay back down. Pulled the journal from her hands and set it down on the nightstand. Pomme let her tuck her back into bed, pulling her mom back down with her to rest her head on her chest. Her heart beat rung clearly under Pomme’s ear and she breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even known she was holding. “No, darling. I mean, yes. We got into a small fight. It wasn’t a big one. It’s solved now.”

”Oh,” Pomme answered. The sound of Baghera’s voice made it seem like it hadn’t been. “Did you say sorry. That’s what Dad tells Dappy and I to do when we fight.”

”Of course, love,” Baghera chuckled. “Etoiles and Antoine went exploring. Pierre went for a walk so I’ll stay until he gets back. Go to sleep, Pomme. I’ll still be around when you wake up. I promise.”

Pomme wasn’t tired though. Her mind was spinning and there were too many things to think about. She matched her breathing to her mother’s and tried to shut her brain off but she couldn’t. She breathed out when her mother did and breathed in at the same time as her mother. Pomme can’t sleep. Baghera can’t sleep either. Pomme knew this. Knew that everything was different now.

She must have fell asleep because she woke up and Baghera was gone. A yellow feather or two was all that remained in her bed but a note was on top of her journal from Baghera saying that she was loved and she would see her later.

Pomme skipped down the stairs to say good morning to her father and Pierre greeted her like he hadn’t been fighting with Baghera last night at all. Except Pomme knew that he was. He was tense and some part of him was still angry. She could see it. Just like when the Federation refused to do anything about their own problems that were harassing the residents. Pomme made it her personal mission to find Richarlyson to talk about what to do.

She found Richarlyson not much later, chasing Pepito around their backyard. Pomme could just see Cellbit in the window watching after them. She waved to him with a smile and he waved back. She wasn’t here to talk with him though. She was here to talk about him. “Hey, Richas!” She called. Richarlyson paused his game of chase and let Pepito swing off his arm.

”Pomme!” Richarlyson grinned, stumbling briefly when Pepito pushed him, the younger shouting something in a mix of Spanish and Portuguese that very few people understood. “Hey! Didn’t think you’d be up yet! Your mom’s still sleeping. Hey, is it her day with you? We could go on an adventure! Or a picnic! Or something.” He grabbed Pepito by the arm and wrestled him back, tickling him until Pepito was squirming against his chest.

”I’m supposed to be with Antoine but I don’t think he’ll come. I think he got distracted,” Pomme replied. “I wanted to talk to you though.”

”Oh?” Richarlyson asked. He scooped up Pepito and threw him over his shoulder to keep Pepito from squirming. It didn’t seem to be working. “About what? I know just about everything about everything you know! A bunch of stuff I shouldn’t. I’ve even talked to a Fed worker! That’s how we got the map.”

”You got a lot of parents,” Pomme continued, ignoring Richarlyson’s long rant in favor of getting the answer she wanted. Richarlyson hummed and all but dropped Pepito back onto the ground, only to catch him last minute to make sure that he didn’t get hurt. “What do you do if they’re fighting?”

”Like… if two of them are fighting?” Richarlyson blinked. He waved Pepito off, shouting after him with “Go Spider-Man! Go kill some bad guys! Like if two of your parents are fighting? Uh… Let me think. I don’t think that happens that often-“

”No, like, all of them,” Pomme answered. Richarlyson lit up.

”Oh. Oh! Okay, yeah, that’s easier. My parents do that a lot. Usually the Brazilian ones. Usually about some past shit. Especially about my dad. Holy shit, Pomme, they do not like my dad sometimes. Cellbo, I mean. Why? Are your parents fighting? You should have gone to Sunny if you wanted to gossip. Not that I don’t mind. I love gossip too. She can just keep a better record of it-“

”Richas!” Pomme exclaimed. “I don’t think everyone needs a record of all my parents fighting right now. I’m just… Not sure what to do.” Pepito came running back, tackling Richarlyson to the ground when he wasn’t looking and climbing on top. Richarlyson rolled over to shove him off and wrestled him to the ground.

”Naptime for Pepito, that’s for sure,” Richarlyson huffed. “You have too much energy, you little shit. But the French are just… fighting? Tio Bad too?”

”No, not Bad.” Pomme shook her head. She sat down on the ground next to Richarlyson and Pepito. The younger took interest in her and tried to tackle her to the ground as well. “The French. I heard my mom and Pierre fighting last night.”

”Would explain why she and my dad were wide awake in the study last night. Had to be super quiet to not disrupt them last night, right, Pepe?” Richarlyson huffed. “Etoiles and Antoine too?”

”I think. They seemed pretty upset last night,” Pomme agreed. She sighed and tickled Pepito’s side. Pepito shrieked and went spinning in her lap to get her to stop. 

“I mean, I usually just force them to get along,” Richarlyson frowned. “Get them in the same room and stay around until I’m sure they aren’t going to fight again. Usually it’ll blow over. Not easy though. I mean, pretty sure you don’t have to deal with one of your parent’s cannibalizing the other. Who knows, you might ha-”

”I’m sorry,” Pomme sputtered. “Repeat that?”

”Cellbit ate Pac’s leg in prison, like, years ago,” Richarlyson shrugged. Pomme blinked, staring at him. “Right, Pepito? And if you don’t take a nap, you little shit, Pai’s gonna eat your leg too.” Richarlyson reached for his little brother again and wrestled him back to the ground. Pepito shrieked and pushed him off. Shouting something in some language she couldn’t understand yet.

”You’re so calm about it,” Pomme noted.

”I don’t know why it’s such a big deal,” Richarlyson shrugged. He pushed himself off the ground and scooped up Pepito. “I mean, it’s really not.”

”Richarlyson, that’s cannibalism!” Pomme argued.

”And? He’s my dad!” Richarlyson argued, like that would solve everything. “Come on, I gotta get Pepito down for a nap and then we can go to my room and solve your problem.”

Cellbit acknowledged them when they came inside and asked if they needed anything. The same absent look in his face that her mother had. They aren’t doing well. Maybe that’s why her parents were fighting last night. Maybe they didn’t like how different everything was.

”Okay,” Richarlyson said, dropping on his bed next to Pomme.  “Pepito is asleep. Apa is out with his friends, Pai is downstairs in his office, and your mom is still asleep. What happened?” She sighed and leaned back onto her hands.

”I don’t know. I just wanted to have all my parents back together,” Pomme admitted. “I missed having them all and they usually keep to themselves so I thought it would just be nice to have them all together again. Etoiles tucked me into bed and I woke up scared my mom was missing so I went to make sure she was still here. When I went to check, everyone was fighting downstairs.”

“Oh,” Richarlyson frowned, leaning back against the headboard of his bed. “Hmm. Okay, that’s usually how I get them to get along. What were they fighting about?”

”It was mostly Baghera and Pierre,” Pomme said. “I know my parents knew each other when they were kids but that’s what they were fighting about. Pierre was angry at Baghera for not coming back from Purgatory and my mom said that she was tortured. And she thought I was dead.”

”We knew Cellbo thought that,” Richarlyson pointed out. “You were there. You helped me fight him off. I guess it makes sense that Tia would think that too.”

”You are surprising calm about this torture thing,” Pomme huffed.

”I already knew that,” Richarlyson scoffed with a wave of his hand. “Pai doesn’t sleep and when he does, he always, always , wakes up with a nightmare. Found him more than once around the house like that. It doesn’t surprise me that Tia was tortured too.”

”Your parents aren’t doing better, are they?” Pomme asked. Richarlyson shook his head.

”Pai isn’t, that’s for sure. Apa is! He’s just… got a lot going on with Pai and Tia right now, that’s all,” Richarlyson explained. “It’s okay. I do what I can. Pepito is doing fine. One day, it’ll get better. I’m sure of it.”

”Well, if you need someone to help with Pepito, I can always come over,” Pomme offered. Richarlyson grinned.

”Thanks. I know I have a lot of energy but he has a lot of energy,” Richarlyson huffed. “He’s crazy. Anyway, let’s plot about how to get your parents to stop fighting.”

They plotted for a while and Pomme felt more confident in being able to get her parents to get along. That’s why she went to Richarlyson. He would at least understand and wouldn’t ask too many questions. Pomme didn’t think she wanted to share everything she knew about it. And Richarlyson understood what was going on with her mom. The same thing was going on with his dad. It was nice to have someone who understood.

So Pomme begged for a family dinner night. She jumped on her mom on the couch when she made her way back downstairs and told her the plan. Pomme wanted a family dinner. She missed having all her family together and she wanted it to be a regular thing now. Richarlyson said it might work. Her parents would have to get along in front of her. If they don’t exactly hate each other forever, eventually they’ll come around. They have too. Manipulative? Sure. But Pomme always played nice before. Maybe nice wouldn’t work anymore.

”Sure, darling,” Baghera smiled. She looked exhausted. “Whatever you want. I’ll ask the others.” Her mom was not okay. Pomme settled next to her mom for the rest of the day and pretended like she didn’t notice her mom try to pretend for her. Pomme can pretend too. She will. She’s more stable than her mom anyway. Her mom was too tired to do much of anything so Pomme pretended like she was content with a lazy day.

”I’ll braid your hair,” Pomme grinned, turning and reaching behind her to pull herself onto the back of the couch. Richarlyson was fetching Pepito up from his nap and grabbing a snack. Cellbit had been out a few times, mainly to check that Baghera was still around and to make sure that Richarlyson and Pepito weren’t dead for being so quiet. Pomme laughed and said they were upstairs.

Baghera was in and out of sleep all day. When she wasn’t, she was dazed and confused. Pomme reached to check her pulse multiple times and pretended like she didn’t even notice. It was just like the time that her mom had been sick on Phil’s floor. Trauma, Phil had called it. Her mom had been sick from trauma. Purgatory was a bad place but Pomme knew that. Perhaps she was sick from trauma again. Her mom looked so small then. Pomme felt very small now trying to help.

That night, she spent the night in Richarlyson’s room. She couldn’t sleep. Pomme can’t sleep anymore. The minute she tried to lay down, she’d shoot back up and worry that she was back. Richarlyson’s gentle breathing felt familiar but dangerous all the same. And Pomme’s lighter was out of fuel. She felt her eyes begin to close and she’d shoot up again, the panic in her blood. She can’t do this. She can’t sleep.

Richarlyson said that his dad didn’t sleep anymore. Cellbit might be awake but Pepito would wake up soon, if he did at all, and Richarlyson wanted to give his dad his space. Pomme can’t sleep. She wanted to sleep again. She didn’t even know where her mom was sleeping. She just wanted to curl up with her mom and feel safe again. Nothing feels right. Nothing has felt right since they got back from Purgatory. Her dad is sick, her parents are fighting, her mom isn’t the same.

Richarlyson’s alarm had Pomme nearly jumping out of her skin. Richarlyson groaned, turning in his bed to shut it off. “Richarlyson, that is the worst sounding alarm I have ever heard.”

“Don’t judge,” Richarlyson huffed. He sat up and rubbed his eye. “It’s the only one that will wake me up.” He shifted to the edge of his bed and reached for his leg. Pomme wished she could sleep. Wished she could get an alarm that would wake her up because at least then she slept.

“Do you have a lighter?” She asked instead. Richarlyson frowned.

“You said you weren’t going to do that anymore,” He argued. His leg was strapped on and he stood up, stretching and reaching for a hair tie.

“I can’t sleep. Sleeping is worse, I promise,” Pomme replied. She shoved her blankets off and rubbed her eyes, willing the exhaustion to leave. Richarlyson frowned but was already peeking his head out his door to check where his dad was.

”Okay… But you have to let me bandage you up after or else I don’t trust you,” Richarlyson agreed. “My dad is awake but he’s in his room so we’ve got to be quiet, okay?”

”Okay,” Pomme agreed. She crept after Richarlyson to the kitchen. He tossed her a lighter and was already running off to find some bandages and cream. She can’t sleep. Pomme can’t sleep. She doesn’t want to. Something will happen while she’s asleep and they’ll die. That’s what happened in Purgatory and Pomme would have died if Richarlyson hadn’t shown up in time. She can’t sleep. If she does, something could happen. Something could happen to her dad or one of her other parents could do missing or something will find her in her sleep or her mom will disappear again.

So she won’t sleep. She can’t. She can’t do it. She can’t make herself do it. She’d rather keep going until she passes out again.

”Did you do it?” Richarlyson asked, pausing in the doorway. Pomme gritted her teeth and bit on her ends of her sweater before clicking the lighter on and holding it up to her arm. It burned but the adrenaline went running again and she no longer felt like she was going to tip over asleep anymore. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

”I can’t do it,” Pomme whispered. Now her throat was choked up. Just like her mom’s was most of today. Nothing is right. Nothing is going well. Pomme doesn’t want the threat of dying in her sleep to be part of it too. Richarlyson sat down in the chair next to her and pulled her arm over to him.

”Does Dapper know?” He asked, peeling off previous bandages and reaching for the burn cream. Pomme shook her head. “Maybe if you tell him, you can take turns on watch. At least then you’d sleep.”

”He’ll tell Dad,” Pomme argued. “And I don’t want him to have another thing to worry about. I can take care of myself.”

”I know,” Richarlyson sighed. “I just don’t like that you have to hurt.” He reached for the bandages.

Are they okay? Pomme wasn’t sure. They could take care of themselves just fine in Purgatory. When they were on Egg Island and it was just Pomme and Richarlyson, they could do it. No matter the small fact of missing their parents and wishing they were back. Chayanne had taken good care of them for the months they were on their own. Pomme kept perfect record of the passing days. She wanted stories to tell her parents of everything they had done. They could take care of themselves. They were fine. Right?

But Pomme didn’t feel fine. She felt so small. She felt like she did when she had settled down next to her mother on Phil’s floor and listened to her mom whisper “no, no, no” over and over again. “Shh,” Pomme whispered, brushing the hair from Baghera’s face. Took her mother’s larger hand in her own small one and tried to calm the shaking. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It hurts, doesn’t it?” Baghera felt so small, so breakable. Pomme hated how fragile her mom looked. “It’s okay, Maman. You’re safe.”

”What do you think happened to them?” Pomme asked softly.

”I don’t know,” Richarlyson whispered back. “Sometimes I think that if I knew, I would be scared. Like Pai is. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why he ended up like he is. Because he’s scared. I used to think he wasn’t scared of anything at all, like nothing could scare him ever. Now I think he only acts mean because he’s scared. That’s what Empanada thinks. That he’s mean to her because they aren’t that different. Because he’s scared.”

”I think my mom is scared too,” Pomme agreed, pulling the sleeve of her sweater back down. “I think that’s why she feels so small.”

Pomme feels so small too. So helpless. She helped Richarlyson with picking up the living room while he helped Pepito with a nightmare. Sometimes, Pomme wished she had nightmares again too because then one of her parents would have to come get her. Someone would have to come get her. Instead, she sat in her bed and stared out the window until the sun came up so she didn’t bother them. Waited for Dapper to wake up and have him tease her about how she never slept and didn’t know that it was true. She wished that she had nightmares because that would mean she could sleep and not worry about something awful happening to her mom again.

”Hey, Pomme?” Richarlyson asked, leaning in the door of the living room where Pomme was putting books back on the shelves. She hummed and glanced over, raising her arm to keep herself from poking at her new burn. “Do you think… Do you ever think that this might be it? That this is the best it’ll get?”

Pomme hated that question. “I don’t know,” She answered. “I want my parents to be happy again. I want my mom to be happy again. But I don’t know. I think I just don’t want the answer to be yes.”

Richarlyson pulled at the hem of his shirt. “I think I agree with you on that.”

Richarlyson went to sleep before Pomme could even finish crawling onto her makeshift bed. She couldn’t sleep. She didn’t want to sleep. Pomme didn’t want to be afraid to sleep. She just wanted her mom. Wanted one of her parents. Creeping back out of Richarlyson’s room, she peeked into Pepito’s room to ensure that he was still sleeping and found herself pushing open the door to her Tio’s room.

“What are you doing up?” Cellbit whispered. He set his journal down next to his bed and Pomme reached for him to pull her in. “Your mom’s still here. She’s asleep, see?” She reached over for Baghera’s hand and wrapped her fingers around her mother’s. “She’s still here. You should be sleeping.” But Pomme doesn’t sleep. Her Tio doesn’t either. It’s why Pomme always associated the smell of coffee and paper with being tired.

“I can’t sleep,” Pomme whispered back. “Everyone else is asleep but us.”

“Mhm,” Cellbit hummed. Pomme squirmed her way down to be able to tuck herself in under a yellow wing. Baghera shifted in her sleep with a whine but she didn’t wake up. “How come you can’t sleep?”

“Do you ever get scared, Tio?” Pomme asked instead.

“Sometimes,” Cellbit agreed. “A lot more right now. It makes it hard to sleep. Are you afraid of sleeping?”

“Sometimes,” Pomme whispered. She wanted to drag her fingers through Baghera’s wing like she did when she was younger. But Pomme’s not younger anymore. She got older and had to fight to stay alive. And she didn’t want to wake her mom even more.

“What are you scared of?” Cellbit asked.

“Lots of things,” Pomme replied. “Mostly of something coming to get me or take my family away. What are you scared off?”

“A lot of the same things,” Cellbit agreed. “What helps you go to sleep?”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Pomme disagreed quickly. But her body does. She just wanted to watch over her mom and make sure that she got to sleep. Make sure no one can make her mom feel so small and breakable again.

“What are you scared of right now?”

“That someone’s gonna take Maman. And I won’t get her back.” Cellbit hummed in agreement. “And then she won’t ever be happy again.”

“How about this,” Cellbit whispered. “You try and go to sleep. You can stay right here next to Baghera and that way you’ll know when someone tries to take her. I’ll stay up to keep watch. I was already doing it anyway.”

Part of that is a lie. There’s no way Cellbit was only up just to watch her mom, the same way that wasn’t the only reason Pomme was still awake. But it’s a comfortable lie. It made her feel better anyway.

“But what about you? Won’t you need sleep too?” Pomme asked.

“I’ll wake you up when it’s your turn for watch. Then we’re even,” Cellbit agreed. Pomme wasn’t sure if she liked this deal but Richarlyson alway wrapped up her arms tightly and Pomme didn’t know how many burns her skin could take before it went numb. She was already numb in a spot near her elbow.

“Okay,” Pomme finally agreed. “You know, it’s okay if you wanna sleep first.” Cellbit chuckled and pulled the blanket over her.

“I’ll be okay. You go ahead and sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She knew it was a lie. Sometimes it felt nice to feel like she did something to help.

Pomme didn’t dream anymore. But as she was willing herself to sleep curled against her mother’s side and under her wing, Pomme thought about how different everything was. How it felt like this would be her new normal. That her mother would never get better than this and she would spend the late nights helping Richarlyson clean up and take care of her mom and Pepito.

Maybe that’s okay. Pomme just wished she could be little again and never have to worry about anything ever again.

Chapter Text

”If I ask you something, you have to promise not to tell anyone,” Pomme had asked Etoiles a week later. Family dinner seemed to have worked, except when Pomme went to sleep that night, her parents were fighting again. Pomme was getting sick of it. Especially since she knew for a fact that her mom had gone home and Richarlyson had reported that she was shaking and crying when she shut the door to Cellbit’s office.

”Of course,” Etoiles had grinned. “Who would I tell?” They had gone dungeon crawling and Pomme loved the thrill of the chase with her dad because it made her forget how scary it could actually be. At least her dad would always jump in to save her. 

“How come everyone has been fighting when they think I am sleeping?” Pomme asked. Out of everyone, she figured she could get a straight answer out of him. Antoine had no interest in letting the fighting continue. Baghera was in no condition to be answering questions when it was all clearly triggering. Pierre seemed so angry about it all.

”It’s… complicated,” Etoiles said with a shrug. He didn’t seem all that surprised. Maybe he had already known. “We knew each other when we were kids. You know that. But we didn’t get along like you get along with your siblings. We fought and we left. If something got too hard, we split off and went our own way for a while. The longest we have ever spent all together like this is here. With you. Usually by now, two people would have been gone for a year. Instead, it’s just Kameto.”

”Oh,” Pomme had whispered. She moved closer to her dad. Etoiles wrapped an arm around her. “All of you?”

“Mostly just… Pierre, Baghera, and me,” Etoiles shrugged. “I think that it’s just hard right now. I’ll make sure that no one fights when you’re in the house anymore.”

That was two weeks ago and each of her parents had sat her down within the next few days to apologize. Pomme begged for a better explanation, for the whole story, but she never got it. Baghera had kissed her forehead and promised that she would do better to keep Pomme from worrying. Pierre pulled her into a hug and apologized for making her overhear their disagreements. Antoine said that they would do better.

Pomme asked for them to stop fighting. They don’t know everything. They didn’t see what she saw. They don’t understand that Baghera isn’t doing well. They can’t see that her mom won’t defend herself. She knew this. It never happened.

”Got kicked out of the house,” Richarlyson huffed, dropping down next to Pomme at her house. Dapper had taken to helping their dad with something but Pomme couldn’t help but worry about him. Not only are all her parents fighting but her dad is sick now too. He’s not getting better. “Apa said something about Pai and Tia are having an episode and Pepito and I need to leave. He took Pepito to Quackity’s. Quackity! Quackity is just as bad as my parents! I don’t want my brother with Quackity! Then Pepito feels like he’s responsible for him!”

”Oh,” Pomme mumbled. “Maybe we can do a rescue mission for him later.” Richarlyson hummed and kicked his legs back and forth.

”Parents still fighting?”

”Yeah.”

”Wanna talk about it?”

”No,” Pome huffed. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.

”Okay,” Richarlyson shrugged. He reached for his sketchbook and Pomme couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

”I just don’t understand it! How come they couldn’t get along like we do? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t get along with you guys all the time and sometimes I hate you, but I would never actually get mad! Nothing is okay right now! None of my parents are okay! Nothing is going right. I want to go home and I want things back how they were. I never even got to see my room in my mom’s castle and my mom’s favorite things are in there and she’s not okay and now my parents hate each other for it.”

Richarlyson hummed. “Yeah. Sucks. I don’t know what to do about that.” He twirled the colored pencil between his fingers. “My dad got mad at me.”

”Do you ever think that we’re doing something wrong?” Pomme asked softly. Richarlyson nodded enthusiastically.

”Oh, all the time,” He agreed. “I mean, we have to be, right? They’d be doing better if we knew what we’re doing wrong. I don’t know, Pomme, we’re just kids. I know we’re not supposed to have all the answers but no one else is doing anything.”

“We could talk to Tio Phil,” Richarlyson pointed out after a few minutes of silence. “I think he knows more than we think.”

“Not a bad idea,” Pomme agreed. “My mom was on his floor for a long time and he is Bolas, whatever that means, so he probably knows more than we do.”

“We should go look for him,” Richarlyson hummed. He closed his sketchbook and was already rising to his feet. “See what is going on. I think we deserve a better answer than what we are getting.”

“I don’t know,” Pomme frowned. “If our parents are trying to keep us out of their lives, should we be prying into them?”

“Pomme, don’t bail on the rule of cool now!” Richarlyson protested. “Come on! We can be heroes and find out what has got our parents so… like this. At the very least, we’ll have someone else to talk to about all of it because they are being so weird and it’s scaring me.”

“Okay, but I’m not just sneaking out,” Pomme finally agreed. “We’re telling my dad where we are going. That way, someone can save us if something bad happens.”

“We can save ourselves, Pomme!” Richarlyson protested. “We don’t need someone else to do it for us. We did it before.”

“Richas…” Pomme started. She regretted it almost immediately. “Do you… ever miss just being a kid?”

“Come on, Pomme. You know we don’t know what that’s like,” Richarlyson replied with a slight huff.

“But we did,” Pomme pointed out. “Before all this. Before Egg Island. We did. When we had quests and parents who would sing us lullabies and miss us when we were with another one.”

“We do have that now,” Richarlyson said. His voice twisted into something Pomme understood. “It’s just…”

“No, Richas, don’t you miss feeling small?” Pomme asked. “Feeling little? Like we don’t have to take care of everyone around us?”

Richarlyson was quiet, shoving his sketchbook into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Yeah,” He finally agreed. “I do. But… Pomme, we were never little. Not like we wish we were.”

“I just wish we were smaller than we were then,” Pomme sighed. She twisted the ends of her hijab around her fingers and tugged to try to keep it from getting too tight. Too tight despite it being loose because she thought she was going to choke anyway.

“I wonder how long the Federation will keep the Dragon story,” Richarlyson shrugged. He reached for her hand and pulled her along. “Because we all know it’s not true.”

“I wonder if my mom wishes she was little again too,” Pomme frowned. “Maybe if we all were, we wouldn’t worry so much anymore.”

”Pomme, shut up. I’m running out of things that Chayanne would say,” Richarlyson said with a huff. “I know I don’t want to be small again. The Federation abandoned you.”

”And Tallulah. You’re not supposed to be here at all,” Pomme pointed out. “Maybe I just want off this island.”

”I can agree with that,” Richarlyson grinned. “Where’s Tio Bad so we can leave.” Pomme pointed down the hallway and Richarlyson dragged her away with a grin.

Her dad waved her off and told her to be safe and have fun with Chayanne and Tallulah. As if Pomme’s first concern wasn’t always to be safe. They dipped out of the house and disappeared through the Waystone to find their Tio.

“I think he’s turning into our parents’s dad,” Richarlyson whispered once they landed at the Death Family Waystone. “I think we should call him grandpa.”

“You’re crazy,” Pomme giggled, covering her mouth. She peeked into the window to see if they could find their Tio in the house but Tallulah’s laugh rang from behind the house and Richarlyson dragged Pomme behind the house to find them.

The longer this went on, the more stressed Pomme was. She really just wanted to be happy again. She wanted to go back to a time before any of this happened and she was little again. That was the last time she could recall being happy. Back when her parents first pulled her out from behind the wall.

She scratched at her arms while Richarlyson ran over to pull Phil aside and made him sit down by them. “What’s this about?” Phil asked softly. Pomme twirled the ends of her sweater around in her fingers and bit her lip.

”Well, you’re Bolas,” Pomme started hesitantly. “And our parents trust you. Whatever Bolas means. So… we thought you could tell us what’s wrong.”

”I told you what I know,” Phil agreed. “I told you that your parents went through something really traumatic and now they are having a hard time adjusting. That’s all I know.”

”It’s not,” Richarlyson argued. “I know it’s not. I know that my dad isn’t doing okay. I know that a lot of things aren’t right about our parents right now. And everyone else treats us like children. We know better. We went to save them. Don’t pretend like we don’t deserve to know the truth.”

”It’s not my truth to tell,” Phil frowned. “If your parents won’t tell you anything, it’s probably for good reason.”

”But Tio!” Pomme protested. “Please, I’m worried about my mom. Something is not okay. She’s not okay!”

”My dad scares me,” Richarlyson snapped. “He scares me, okay? But he’s my dad and I want him back. I just want him back, Tio. I don’t know how to get him back. Something is wrong with my dad and everyone is pretending like nothing is wrong!”

Phil sighed softly, defeated. “I know, Richarlyson. And Pomme, I know. I know your mom is worrying you. You’re right. Your parents aren’t okay. We’re trying to pretend like everything is okay but that’s the best any of us can do right now. You’re right. I’m sorry that it’s worrying you. I really can’t tell you more than that. Not without asking them first and I know you know what their answers will be.”

So it didn’t end up super well. Phil tried to soothe their fears though. Promised them that he wouldn’t let anything happen to their parents like it would help. Like Pomme wasn’t terrified that she would wake up tomorrow and her mom would be just as bad as she was the day before. Phil promised that they could run to tell him anything that worried them but it wouldn’t do much. It wouldn’t solve the problem at all.

That night, Baghera walked Pomme back to Antoine’s home and kissed her good night with an exhausted smile. Pomme held onto her shirt like she’d never be able to hug her again.

”You can visit me anytime you want, darling,” Baghera promised. Pomme reached to be picked up and let the pressure of her mom holding her weight up soothe her. “I promise, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll still be here tomorrow.”

”Maman,” Pomme whispered back. She can hear the guilt in her mom’s voice. The same way her mom can hear the fear in hers. “It’s not your fault, you know. You didn’t know. You would have never left me behind, I know it.”

Baghera pressed a kiss to her forehead and hugged her tighter. Pomme could feel her swallow but at least her mom is alive. “I know, darling, I know. You don’t need to worry about me anymore, I promise. You can go back to being a kid.”

It’s a silly thought. Pomme has never been a kid. She knows that. Chayanne knows that. All of her siblings know that. Chayanne takes most of the responsibility so that Pomme doesn’t have to and Pomme takes more of that so that Empanada doesn’t have to. And Empanada will pick up whatever pieces are left so that Pepito and Sunny and now Chunsik don’t have to worry at all.

But they fool the parents pretty well anyway. Pomme smiled at her and kissed her cheek. “I know, Maman. I don’t worry. You’re okay.”

If her mom can look her in the eye and lie, Pomme can do it too.

Chapter Text

“I fucking hate him!” Richarlyson shrieked. Pomme shoved her fingers in her ears while Richarlyson screamed and slammed his hand against the table until it bruised. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!” He cradled his hand against his chest and threw himself in a chair with a sob. “I hate him so much and I want him back.”

It must be nice. For Richarlyson to be getting his sleep back. For Cellbit to step in and make sure that Richarlyson didn’t have to work anymore. Pomme knows her mother cares. She knows she does! But her mother is so lost in her head right now that Pomme has no idea what to do. She just wished that when her mother would come wake her up in the morning, she realized that Pomme wasn’t sleeping too.

“At least he cares,” Pomme whispered. Richarlyson sobbed, his head hidden between his arms. “At least he just wants to make it easier on you.”

“I am not needed!” Richarlyson screeched. “That’s what it means. I’m not needed! It’s not important. It doesn’t matter. And Pepito has already forgotten! It’s been two days!”

“You know he doesn’t mean it,” Pomme replied. “That’s not what he means. We’re kids, Richas. They just want us to be kids.” She kept her fingers in her ears while Richarlyson continued to rage about how unfair the world is. “Pepito didn’t forget. I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t just forget you. You’ve done everything for him as long as he’s been around.”

It’s funny. Pomme almost wished that she had a younger sibling to fuss over. Instead, she’s the youngest and while Dapper does fuss, it’s nothing like this. She’s almost jealous, if she didn’t know how hard Richarlyson had been fighting to keep his family together. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s jealous that he has something else to worry about instead of obsessing over the same few things over and over again.

“It sure as hell feels like it!” Richarlyson cried. “My dad spends one day aware and suddenly Pepito is all over him. It’s not fair! I did everything and now I’m forgotten.”

Pomme isn’t even going to start to pretend like she knows what to do. She sighed and let her own head fall in her hands. “Richas, I’m running out of things that Chayanne would say.”

Later, when Richarlyson disappeared to find Fit and get distracted for a while by trying to speedrun his dad into a wedding, Pomme went to seek out her mom. Forget the past week, Baghera was all Pomme could think about. Every dungeon she cleared with Etoiles and every moment she sat with Antoine and every word she spoke with Pierre. Everytime Bad tucked her into bed next to Dapper’s and sung her favorite song. She’d roll over in her covers and wonder who was singing her mom to sleep too.

Richarlyson chooses to stay around his dad. His parents let him pick where he wants to go. Pomme so desperately wanted to do the same but couldn’t shake the feeling of how unfair that would be to her parents. To pick one over the others when she hardly sees most of them to begin with now that they are all fighting. She knows, she really does know, that if she really wanted too, her parents would let her stay around Baghera but does she even want that? Pomme doesn’t know what she wants anymore.

It’s supposed to be her mom’s day. Baghera promised to pick her up at Spawn and they would go exploring together. Caving. Pomme wanted to go caving, mostly, but she would accept exploring the woods behind her mother’s hole she called a house and build a fort and pick flowers. Baghera never came though. Instead, it was Cellbit who met Pomme there.

“She’s not coming,” Pomme frowned. She grabbed onto Pierre’s hoodie sleeve and didn’t know what she had been expecting in the first place.

“She feels horrible,” Cellbit promised, kneeling down to her height. “I promise. She really, really wants to be here with you.”

“She could have messaged,” Pierre frowned.

“We did. You must have missed it,” Cellbit answered. “Pomme, I promise. She feels terrible about not being here. She really wanted to be.”

“Is she sick again?” And Pomme knew it wasn’t really sick. That Baghera wasn’t contagious the same way people were when they were normally sick. Sick with trauma was becoming the new norm. The same way she had been tossing and turning on Phil’s floor and couldn’t see Pomme at all.

“Very,” Cellbit sighed. “I’m really sorry, Pomme. She really does want to be here with you. You can always come home with me and see her or you can swap with another parent. Or, I was thinking that we could finally do that flower picking date that I promised you we’d go on.”

“I didn’t think you remembered that,” Pomme whispered before she could stop herself. She felt horrible the second the words left her mouth. Her Tio just forgot? How could she just say that after everything they have been through over the past few months.

But she really did like the idea. She had been looking forward to it for a long time.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Cellbit said. He sounded defeated. “I’m sorry we haven’t been doing as well as you had hoped. I promise that we’re trying. What would you like to do?”

“I…” Pomme considered it for a moment. She wanted to return home and make sure her mother was okay but she really, really wanted to have her date with her Tio. “Can I go with you? Papa, can I go flower picking with Tio Cellbit?”

“Sure,” Pierre agreed. Cellbit smiled.

“Okay!” He held a hand out for Pomme. “I promise it will be the best flower picking you’ll ever have.” And Pomme believed him. She skipped up to grab Cellbit’s hand and he wasn’t shaky like her mother’s was. Richarlyson was just complaining that he cared enough to step in and make sure that he got to sleep at night. Cellbit was trying hard to be his parent. He seemed to be doing better and Pomme was thrilled by that. Because if he can get better, her mom can too.

It’s not that Baghera ever stopped being a mom. She did very well at pretending like nothing was wrong whenever she could. Pomme could count on two hands the number of times she’d been with Baghera and had to fuss over her like Cellbit. The time with Phil was one of those. No one wanted to give her answers other than that.

Cellbit seemed to be doing much better. So maybe, someday, her mom’s hand will stop shaking when she reached for Pomme’s hand too.

“I found this beautiful flower field a couple hundred blocks from home,” Cellbit explained, swinging Pomme’s hand lightly in his own. Back and forth. It felt nice to have her Tio back. “It’s huge and I knew you would love it when I first found it. It reminded me of you.”

“It sounds beautiful!” Pomme smiled. They stopped at the door to Spawn so that Pomme could wave goodbye to Pierre. “I can’t wait to see it!” She adjusted her grip on his hand and some of those bad feelings started to disappear. “Is my mom going to be okay? Someone’s watching over her, right?”

“She’s okay,” Cellbit said. “She’s at my house with Roier, I promise. I wouldn’t leave her all by herself. Not when she’s sick.”

Pomme knew what that was like. To see Baghera sick. She looked nauseous and disoriented at the same time. It was horrible to see the outcome of what they had done to her. Like her mom wasn’t even a person anymore. She was a thing that people had hurt and that left her twisting and turning on the floor until Baghera didn’t even know where she was or who she was anymore.

“You’re thinking,” Cellbit said softly. “Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Pomme swung his hand in her own and shrugged. “It’s gonna sound silly.” She whispered with a frown.

“Never. Nothing could ever sound silly from you.”

“I’m just… really worried that my mom is gonna be sick forever,” Pomme sighed. She kicked at a rock in their path. Truthfully, she’s worried about a lot of things. She’s worried about Baghera. She’s worried that Richarlyson will get too frustrated. She’s worried that Cellbit wasn’t serious when he said he was going to step up more and Richarlyson wouldn’t get any sleep. Pomme was terrified of sleeping and the idea that she’ll never sleep again.

“She won’t be,” Cellbit promised. “I swear. She’ll get better someday. It’s just… different for her, that’s all. We dealt with it in different ways and now it’s just hard for her to get back to normal.”

“Are you back to normal?”

Cellbit was silent. “No… I’m not. Maybe that’s the wrong word for it.” He led her down a different path and Pomme followed quickly. When Pomme looked up to see him, he looked like he was debating what to say. “I’m sure you know more than you tell us you do.” Pomme hesitated but kept her mouth shut. Richarlyson said his dad started intervening more, hiding more things. Pomme can’t have that. She needed Baghera to be more open so Pomme can figure out what is wrong. “And I’m sure if you do, then you have a general idea of what happened to us. It’s not really easy to get better after that. It frustrates your mom a lot right now because she tends to think that she is better than she is.”

“Do you think you’re better than you are?” Pomme asked. Cellbit shrugged.

“Between you and me, I don’t think I’ve ever been better,” Cellbit said softly. “But sometimes that just means that you learn how to live with it.”

“But that’s sad!” Pomme protested.

“It is. But that’s how the world is sometimes,” Cellbit shrugged. “But just because it doesn’t get better doesn’t mean that you can’t be happy. I’ve learned to be very happy this way.”

“But can it get better?” Pomme asked. 

“Of course it can. Is there anything that you are worried about that you wanted to talk about?”

They headed around a small hill and ended up at the start of the flower field. Pomme grinned before she could stop herself and stared out at the field. “Llulah would love it here.”

“She would,” Cellbit agreed. “I’m sure she knows every flower that’s out there. Where do you want to start?”

Pomme dragged him over to a patch of red and purple flowers. “I am worried about something.” She admitted, pulling a red flower up by the stem and twisting it between her fingers. The petals twirled around but held fast to the flower anyway. Cellbit waited patiently for her to speak again. “I’m worried that I won’t be able to sleep anymore.”

“Do you not sleep now?” Cellbit asked, raising his eyebrow. Pomme shrugged.

“Not enough. I keep seeing things that aren’t there now.” She picked another flower and placed it next to her first one. The next one she picked was too short and she reached to tuck it up behind Cellbit’s ear. “And I know you don’t sleep either. I keep seeing things that aren’t real and hearing things and I’m so tired. All the time. But I can’t sleep.”

“Are you scared of sleeping? Or can you not sleep?” Cellbit prompted gently. He picked his own flower and twisted it between his fingers. “Because those are two very different things.”

“I almost died,” Pomme whispered. “In Purgatory. Richas saved me. I was just so tired and it was the middle of the day so I thought it would be okay. I thought I didn’t have to look after everyone else anymore. Richas could stay alive for a few hours while I slept because I was just so tired.”

“Pomme…” She waited for the scolding. Instead, Cellbit set his flower with the rest of hers and reached to pick her up. “That must have been scary.” Pomme sniffled and nodded, reaching for him.

“I was so scared,” She said. “I thought that I wouldn’t get to see my parents again. That I’d never find Dappy.” Cellbit set her on his hip and hugged her tightly.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore. We’ll be there to protect you.” It’s a promise she can’t believe. Not when she knows the kind of arguments her parents get into when she’s not around and the care she and Richarlyson have provided over the past months. “I know. It doesn’t feel like it. Everything feels so wrong right now. I promise you, though. Everything is fine. It’s fine even if you don’t feel like it is.”

“What do you do when you can’t sleep?” Pomme asked.

“I’m still figuring that one out,” Cellbit answered honestly. “But I’ll let you know the second I figure it out, okay?” Pomme nodded slowly and glanced over at the flower field.

“Can we pick some flowers for my mom?”

“She will love that. We can bring them back to her after if you want.”

“Okay! She will love to have flowers! Maybe they will make her feel better.”

They won’t. Pomme knew that. Flowers didn’t help her mom last time she brought them. Baghera still twisted on the ground and cried, curling up on her side. Like the worst of the worst was happening right then. But some part of her wanted to keep that childish belief anyway. Surely, it would work. It had to. Something had to. She just wanted her mom to be happy again.

“What colors do you think she wants?” Cellbit asked, setting her back down on the ground and reaching for the flowers they had already picked.

“All of them,” Pomme replied. “Pink is her favorite color. Maybe she wants some pink ones.” She looked at the red ones in his hand already. “We could do pink and red because they’re like the same colors.”

“Sounds like a plan. Do you want to pick more red ones first or see if we can find some pink ones first?”

“Let’s find some pink ones!” Pomme grabbed him by the hand and dragged him further into the field. She skipped ahead and found her way to a patch of pink flowers. “Do you ever want to talk to people about things that scare you, Tio?”

“Sometimes,” Cellbit shrugged. “But I think those things will scare other people too.” He handed Pomme a small batch of flowers. “How about these for Baghera?”

Pomme looked them over. She can’t tell if he’s just playing along or if he really believes that she still believes flowers will fix everything. But she’ll play along anyways. Whatever to make things feel more normal. “I think she will love them.” She set them in the stack with the rest of her flowers. “If you think they will scare other people, doesn’t that mean they really scare you?”

“Sometimes,” Cellbit agreed. “Sometimes they really do scare me. That’s why I have always found it hard to sleep. But they are too scary to tell you.”

“I’m not afraid.” She picked another flower and stared at it like she was studying it. He has to be playing along, right? There’s no way that he believes she wouldn’t understand. “You can tell me. I’m not scared of many things anymore.”

“You’re scared to sleep,” Cellbit said.

“I’m afraid of death. Coming for me or my family. Of pain and hurt and being alone. I don’t think anything can scare me anymore though, Tio. Nothing is scarier than that.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Cellbit reached behind him and pulled up a purple flower. “I don’t think you’re much of a little kid anymore, Pomme. I think you’re quite grown up.”

Maybe he is playing along. Pomme didn’t know what was worse. “I am very grown up. I can handle your scary things.” She twirled the flower between her fingers and studied the way the petals turned at the movement. “I don’t think you should have to be scared by yourself.”

“That’s not your responsibility, Pomme.”

“But mine isn’t yours either.”

“You’re my niece. I am responsible for you.” He held out the purple flower for her. Pomme took it gently.

“You’re my Tio. I’m responsible for you too.”

Cellbit shrugged and picked up their flowers. He wrapped them in a string and reached for her hand. “Let’s just say that I did some pretty bad things to some people that I care about. And part of me is scared that I’ll do those things again.”

“Did you say sorry?” Pomme blinked, taking his hand and letting him pull her over to a red patch of flowers again. “That’s what you should do. Tell them sorry.”

“The things that I’ve done aren’t easy to say sorry for,” Cellbit said. “Because they really hurt some people. You can’t apologize for those sorts of things.”

Pomme hummed. “I think you should. Maybe you’ll find that they will forgive you anyway.” She picked another flower and raised it up to her nose. “Sometimes we do stupid things because we think they are right but they are wrong. Then we apologize for them because we realize it was wrong.”

“Sometimes I think I don’t want them to forgive me. Because I don’t want to forgive myself.”

“But that’s silly, Tio. The fact that you feel bad already means you won’t do it again. You should forgive yourself. I would forgive you.”

Cellbit laughed softly. “Thank you, Pomme. Do you think we have enough flowers or do you think Baghera needs more?”

“The most flowers. She needs them all, Tio. The more flowers, the faster she’ll get better, right?”

“Of course. One flower for every minute, right?”

He had to be playing along with her. Pomme knew for a fact now. Both of them are being funny like that. Too grown up for their peers and seen too much. Maybe he needed to pretend just as much as she did.

They disappeared back to Cellbit’s house an hour or so later. Pomme wasn’t sure the exact time but the sun had shifted in the sky. They set to work trimming the ends of the flowers and arranging them in a vase. They had to be perfect for Baghera, they had agreed. Flowers will only work if they are nice to look at. Pomme would place flowers and replace flowers and rearrange before the pink and red flowers looked presentable.

“Is she still sick?” Pomme frowned when Cellbit walked back into the room. He nodded slowly.

“She will be happy to see you,” He smiled softly. “She’s feeling a bit better now. She can’t wait to talk to you.”

“Why does she get so sick?” She fidgeted with another flower and twisted it till it looked right. Phil had called it trauma but trauma is the reason Pomme can’t sleep. It’s the reason Richarlyson freaked out when Cellbit stepped up again. The reason Tallulah shut herself out and Chayanne was so easy to annoy in the woods. She’s never seen it like this.

“I really don’t know,” Cellbit said. “My guess is that she thinks that she’s in danger and that is safer so her brain just… tricks her into getting sick.”

“She wasn’t always like that,” Pomme frowned. She busied herself with picking up the loose petals and the discarded stems.

“No. We’re in a bad place mentally right now,” Cellbit answered. “Sometimes we forget that we got out of Purgatory. We’re grateful that you saved us.”

“Richas thinks you’re going to replace him,” Pomme said. “Did he tell you that? He’s scared that you won’t need him anymore and Pepito won’t need him anymore either.”

Cellbit hummed. “He did tell me that. He made sure that I knew that. He’s not going to be replaced.” He sat down at the table next to her. “I’m sorry that we have made you take on all this responsibility. It’s not fair to you. Richas was responsible for too much and it will be hard to remind him that he doesn’t have to be. The same for you. You worried for so long about so many things that it will be hard to remind you that you don’t have to worry about them.”

”But if I don’t, who will? If I don’t worry for my mom, who will?”

”I will. Roier does. Phil, just to name a few. I promise, nothing is going to happen to her. You worried for so long that it’s just hard to learn that there isn’t anything to worry about. I know it doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

It doesn’t feel like it. But Pomme held up the flowers to Cellbit and forced a smile anyway. “They’ll make her feel better, right?”

”Of course,” Cellbit smiled back. He took the vase carefully and reached for her hand. “Let’s go take them to her. I’m sure they will make her feel better.”

Pomme paused in the doorframe. Her mom lay dazed in the bed. Eyes were red and cheeks looked raw. Pale and sick. But she smiled as Pomme appeared in the doorframe and held a hand out to her. Shaking, again. She looked tragic.

”Hi, darling. I’m so sorry I couldn’t come get you,” Baghera whispered. Pomme climbed into bed with her and grabbed her hand.

”It’s okay,” Pomme said softly. She brushed her mom’s hair from her face. That anxiety curled in her chest again. “Tio Cellbit and I went and picked flowers. We brought some back for you!” She held her hand out for the vase of flowers. “They are pink and red!” Cellbit handed them over and Pomme couldn’t see her mom around the flowers, but she hoped that they made her happier than she had been. Baghera hasn’t been happy in a long time.

”They’re beautiful, darling,” Baghera smiled. “Can I put them on the nightstand so I can look at them all the time?”

”Yeah!” Pomme grinned. She twisted to set them on the nightstand and reached for the book her mother had left behind on it. Which is funny, because she knows that her mother doesn’t read that much, but maybe she doesn’t have much left to do.

”I’m going to head to the living room with Roier,” Cellbit said. “Pomme, come get me if your mom stops responding.”

”I will,” Pomme said. She handed the book over to Baghera and snuggled back down next to her mom. “Read me a book, please.” She didn’t even know what it was about but she didn’t care. She just wanted to listen to her read something out loud like she was little again.

Head on her mother’s heart to listen to it beat while her mother read allowed a book that Pomme knew nothing about. Baghera ran her fingers through Pomme’s hair while she whispered the words. It was almost like Pomme was little again.

Even if Baghera’s voice choked up every once and a while. It’s okay. It’s fine. Pomme will make sure that she was fine anyway.

Chapter Text

Something was wrong with her mother.

Pomme had been saying that for months but this time she meant it. This time, she really did mean it. After all, most of the time, Baghera was distant and confused, but she usually didn’t cry. Aside from that one time on Phil’s floor. And Pomme had gotten good at handling the rest of it! She really had been. But this time, this time for sure, something was wrong.

Baghera won’t stop crying. Pomme wasn’t sure what was wrong, what had happened, but she won’t stop crying. Everyone else had gone out. Pomme knew that they would be back in a few hours but that was a few hours! And Baghera won’t stop crying. It’s almost like she doesn’t even notice that Pomme is there at all.

“Maman, please,” Pomme whispered. She sat down next to Baghera, who had curled up on the floor in a ball, and reached to rub her back. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.”

What does Baghera usually say when something happened to Pomme? Why can’t she think of it? When Pomme was crying, what did her mom usually do for her? Pick her up but Pomme can’t do that. She can hug her but it’s harder when her mom won’t move. She shushed a rising cry and leaned down to kiss Baghera’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. Maman, nothing’s wrong, I promise. You’re safe,” Pomme rubbed Baghera’s back gently. “I won’t let anything happen to you. That’s always what you tell me.”

Richarlyson and Pomme knew that their parents had been tortured. That something terrible had happened to them that made existing that much harder. But somehow, Pomme couldn’t put her finger on it, someway, this was different. That this wasn’t something that had just… happened because of the Watcher.

”Shh…” Pomme whispered. She couldn’t help the way her words choked in her throat. “I know. It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s okay. We’re not in Purgatory. You’re fine. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Pomme couldn’t find her mother’s communicator to type out a message to her Tio. To anyone. Couldn’t get ahold of any of her parents without leaving her mother’s side. Pomme leaned down and kissed Baghera’s shoulder. Tried to hug her. “Maman, please. You’re okay. Look at me. It’s okay. Please, Maman, look at me.”

Pomme didn’t know what to do. Cellbit had always told her to go get him if something like this happened but she can’t do that. Not without leaving her mother’s side. This is awful. Pomme just wanted Baghera to stop crying. She laid down next to her and reached for Baghera’s face. “Maman, shh. It’s okay.” It’s just like that time on Phil’s floor. Nothing can break through to her. She wasn’t responding at all. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.” Baghera can’t cry forever. Pomme might just need to let the spell pass over until someone who knows what they are doing comes.

Pomme really won’t leave her, though. She won’t try. What if that just made it all worse? Pomme turned on her back and stared up at the ceiling. Soulmates, right? Tio Cellbit should know that something is wrong by now. He should be on his way. The nearest Waystone would be Death Family but that’s fine. It’s not far. Pomme twisted her head to look around the room and reached for the blanket hanging off the couch. One hand around her mother’s wrist, the other tight on a blanket. She dragged it back over and sat up, wrapping it around Baghera.

“It’s okay, Maman,” Pomme promised softly. She pressed another kiss to her mother’s forehead and rubbed her back. “I know. You must be so scared. It’s okay. Really. I promise. Tio Cellbit should be coming any minute. He wouldn’t just leave you.”

It’s the same as it was when she was on Phil’s floor. But it’s not. It’s like listening to Pepito or Chunsik cry. Like a baby. Tortured, Pomme reminded herself. Her mom was tortured. Maybe part of that just means that someone needs to take care of her a little better. What sorts of things did Baghera do for her when she was sad? She’d tell a story. She’d made a warm drink. Pomme can do both of those things. She can find a book to read.

“I’ll be back,” Pomme promised. She brushed Baghera’s hair away from her face and stood up. No response. That’s okay. She’s just sick with trauma again. Pomme can handle that. Just until Cellbit comes home. “I’m going to get you a drink and a book.” Pomme did get a book for her mother. The Ugly Duckling. It was Baghera’s favorite growing up. Maybe she’d want to hear it again. And this way, Pomme will be able to read all the words, unlike an adult book that’s a lot more complicated.

Pomme fumbled around in the kitchen for some tea and ran up the stairs for Cellbit and Roier’s room for the book. She turned on her heel, scanning the bedside table she knew her mother usually left the book only to find it missing. “Where is it?” She mumbled, opening the drawer. Nothing. The room did just get cleaned. Pomme frowned and closed it again. She scanned over the shelves and found it poking out of a box on the top shelf. Pomme could just barely touch the bottom of the box with her fingertips. If she played it right, she could drop the box in her hands before it spilled all over the floor.

Pomme carefully coaxed the box off the shelf with her fingers until it tipped right into her hands. Pomme caught the shaking box and set it on the floor. Her Tios will understand. They’ll have too. She pulled the book out of the box and the contents inside had her pausing. Briefly, staring at the stuffed toy and colors inside with a curiosity. Why have all of these in the same book as her mother’s book? Certainly these aren’t for Baghera too? Pomme felt like she would know that.

“Tea, right,” Pomme reminded herself. She abandoned the box on the floor for a later date and ran back down the stairs. She could hear Baghera crying from the top of staircase and Pomme’s feet echoed as she ran down and past Richarlyson’s room. “Almost done, Maman. I promise.”

Pomme hated thinking about this. Hated thinking about what it meant for her family. For her mother. She knew her parents were still fighting. Would they still fight if they saw Baghera like this? What sorts of things does someone have to go through to end up like this? Pomme hated this.

She poured the tea into a cup and carried it carefully into the living room. She set it down on the hard floor next to her mom. “It might be a little hot,” Pomme mumbled. She blew over the top of the cup and frowned. “I can get you ice. Hang on. I’ll get you ice.” It would be a bad time to mention that Pomme had never made tea on her own before, but she supposed that now was as good of a time as any to learn. She grabbed an ice cube from the back of the freezer and shut the door again, sitting back down next to Baghera and dropping it into the cup.

“I got you a book,” Pomme said softly. She set the book in the lap to read and paused. The book was in English. Pomme did not get her mom a book in English. She got it in French. She knew because it was the exact copy Baghera had left in her castle. “You have two books.” Pomme frowned. It’s not making sense. She read the book anyway.

Three pages in, the front door opened, jolting Pomme out of her focus. Baghera had stopped crying, although she hadn’t touched her tea. She was listening to the book, at least Pomme told herself she was.

“Tio Cellbo?” Pomme called carefully.

“It’s me, baby girl,” Cellbit confirmed. Pomme breathed a sigh of relief and Baghera burst into tears all over again. Cellbit rounded the corner and Pomme watched her mother shoot up, reaching for him. “Oh, I see. Did your mom have another episode?”

“I couldn’t find her comm,” Pomme admitted softly. She closed the book and hugged it to her chest. Cellbit sat down in the floor and let himself get pulled down on his back next to Baghera. “I didn’t know what to do. I figured that you would come soon.”

“You did good,” Cellbit promised. He let Baghera adjust them on the floor and close her eyes, tears stopping. “You did so good, Pomme. I promise.” He rubbed up and down Baghera’s back and Pomme shifted carefully.

“Is she sick again?” She asked.

“Mhm, yeah. It just happens now, remember?” Cellbit replied gently. “Right now, it just happens. Someday, we’ll get better at this. I promise.”

“I feel like we’re always saying that,” Pomme frowned. She fidgeted with the book in her arms. “And we’re always promising that it will be better someday. But someday feels so far away.”

“I know,” Cellbit whispered. “Trust me, I know. I wish it was better now.” 

“I couldn’t find my mom’s book,” Pomme admitted. She held the book out to Cellbit. The look on his face told Pomme enough. “I didn’t get this book for her but it’s the same book.”

“Did you get this off our shelf?” Cellbit asked softly. He took the book from her hand with a face that Pomme did not like.

“I’m sorry… I just… She always-“

“No, Pomme, I’m not mad,” Cellbit interrupted. “Really, I’m not. You’re right. It’s not the same book you got her. Your mom’s book is in the guest room. She decided she needed a little space and started to make it her own room. You didn’t know that though. I’m…”

“Then why is there two?” Pomme asked. That’s such a stupid thing to get upset over and yet, here she is, getting upset anyway. She shouldn’t be upset about something so silly like there being two copies of the same book in the house but it’s almost like her book wasn’t needed. Like she hadn’t actually done anything.

“Shh, Pomme, I know,” Cellbit mumbled. He reached to take her hand. Pomme sobbed, letting him pull her closer. “I get it. I’m sorry. I bought the book before I knew you already got her one, okay? And then I just put it up because I kept forgetting to return it. That’s all. You’re very stressed, right? I bet that scared you when there was no one to help you.”

“I want Maman,” Pomme cried. She let Cellbit pull her into a hug on the floor next to him. “I just want her. I want Maman and she won’t answer me.”

“I know, love. She’ll come back to you soon,” Cellbit promised. “Do you want me to call one of your other parents right now to come get you?”

“I just want my mom.” Pomme hid her face in her hands and sniffled. “I just want her and she’s always so sad! She’s never around when she’s supposed to be because she’s always so sick and I just want her back.”

Part of her has that guilt creeping in. Making her Tio comfort her and her mom at the same time but Pomme is honestly just getting so sick of it all. She just wanted her life to go back to normal. Everyone says that they will be getting better soon but Pomme had yet to see any progress.

“Everyone always says it will be fine but it’s not!” Pomme continued. “It’s not getting better! It’s just the same and I want my mom!”

“I know, Pomme. I’m sorry. I can’t do more than tell you I’m sorry.”

Pomme knew that they were all trying. All the adults are trying. They always are. And yet, Pomme always felt like they weren’t doing any better. They’re never doing better. She felt like Richarlyson did when he came crying to her. Upset and frustrated at the world except he was getting help. Pomme just felt so alone. Dapper doesn’t even know half of what’s happening and Pomme felt so alone.

“Pomme, when did you last sleep?” Cellbit asked gently. He brushed her hair from her face with the hand wrapped around her and Pomme was acutely aware of the fact that her mother is still silent. She can’t help but feel the burn of jealousy at the fact that she can’t have her Tio hug her completely. The anger that it’s not her mother despite the fact that she’s right there.

“I’m not tired,” Pomme sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I’m not angry because I’m tired! I’m angry because I want Maman and she’s gone.”

“Of course not,” Cellbit corrected himself. “I never said you were angry because you were tired. But those sound like very tired cries and you told me you haven’t been able to sleep. It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to sleep. No monsters are going to get you and I’m sure your mom will be back with you wake up.”

“I just want her.” It’s such a stupid thing to get upset about. Purely selfish. She already saw Baghera sobbing on the ground earlier and she knew what that was over. Baghera was tortured. Pomme was not. It’s so stupid to be this upset over a stupid book and her mom having another episode. She doesn’t even have them that often when Pomme is around. She is being ridiculous.

“I know. I’m so sorry,” Cellbit sighed. He untangled his arm from around Baghera and sat up, rolling her onto her back. Pomme could just see something in his eyes and he could hope that he was looking for her mom, from wherever she had gone in her head. “I wish it wasn’t such a big ask. I wish you didn’t have to cry like this for her.” He pulled Pomme up and set her in his lap, wrapping his arms around her. “Trust me, I know. I hear you. I am so sorry. Do you want me to contact one of your dads to come get you?”

Pomme shook her head and sobbed. Gods, she feels so stupid right now. She just wanted her mother. She just wanted her to be better already. It’s been months of this and she’s still not better.

She felt Cellbit shift behind her and shake Baghera next to his side. She huffed and rubbed at her eyes. “What’s wrong with Pomme? What happened?” She sat up and Pomme wailed, reaching for Baghera to pick her up. That seemed to wake her up from whatever trance she’d been in. “Oh, shh, darling, you’re okay. I promise. You’re alright.”

“You scared her,” Cellbit said as Baghera pulled Pomme out of his lap and hugged her. “When you went unresponsive. She was home alone.”

“I just wanted you,” Pomme cried, clinging to her shirt. Whatever she can grab onto that will make her mother stay. “And it’s not your stupid book and it’s a stupid thing to get upset over and I am.”

“Shh, I’m sorry,” Baghera whispered. She curled up around Pomme and that felt safe. For the first time all day, she felt safe. Baghera cradled her in her arms and kissed the top of her head. “I’m so sorry, darling. That’s not a stupid thing to be upset over.” Pomme knew for a fact that it’s a stupid thing to be upset over. Her mother had probably just seen the book before Pomme had. There’s no reason for her to be this upset. And yet, she is. “Pomme, you sound exhausted.”

“I’m not tired,” Pomme cried, digging her fingers further into Baghera’s clothing. “I’m not tired! Why does everyone tell me that I’m tired?”

“Because you are tired,” Baghera whispered. “Because you’ve got dark spots under your eyes and you look exhausted. You are tired. Darling, I’m sure that you are super upset right now and I completely understand. I am so sorry for doing that to you. But you’re also so tired. Why don’t you sleep and we can talk about this when you wake up?”

“You’ll be gone!” Pomme physically cannot get any closer but she wanted to be. She just wanted her mother to stay.

“I won’t be. I’ll hold you the whole time.” It’s an easy to break promise but maybe Pomme really is tired. Both her Tio and her Maman have said she’s tired and maybe she is because Pomme feels so silly for getting so worked up as a copy to a book. Maybe it’s not about the book but about the fact that nothing is right anymore. It has been for a very long time.

“You promise?” She looked up to watch her mom, to look for any lying, and there is still that distant look in Baghera’s eyes. Like she’s not all there.

“I promise,” Baghera insisted. She kissed her cheek and Pomme gave in regretfully. “Cellbit will stay too if it makes you feel better.”

Pomme usually falls asleep on Baghera. It’s nothing new. Before they had run away from home, from the danger, Pomme fell asleep on someone every night. By now, though, she doesn’t often sleep. She so rarely slept on someone, listened for their heartbeat to tell her that they were there. But Baghera is back and Pomme can hear her hurt and she’s still upset over that stupid book.

“You can’t leave again,” Pomme said. She held up the pinky on her left hand for Baghera to grab and Baghera connected them immediately.

“Darling, I’m not leaving. I’ll be right here. I’m so sorry that I scared you.” Baghera shifted them back towards the couch so she could lean against it and Cellbit reached to help. Just like with Phil. Just like with Pomme fussed over her mom on the floor then too.

Her mother needs help and yet she’s helping Pomme instead. She can’t help be feel awful for it. Or maybe Pomme just really needs to go to bed.

“I’m upset over a stupid book,” Pomme sobbed against her chest. Baghera’s heart beat back soothingly.

“It’s not stupid at all,” Baghera promised. “Go to sleep, Pomme. I’ll sing you a song, if you’d like.” There’s no protest from Pomme. Baghera whispered some song Pomme’s never heard before and eventually, Pomme was forced to close her eyes again. Maybe she actually was tired.

Cellbit and Baghera are whispering over her. Pomme can’t piece the conversation together. She just can’t help but feel awful for the fact that she’s forcing her mom to take care of her when her mom needs help herself. But Pomme can’t feel bad when she just wanted things to go back to normal.

At least, she just wanted someone to pretend things were normal once again.

Chapter Text

Pomme’s life isn’t quite upside down. It’s been up and down and left and right and nothing feels like it used to. But then again, it’s not always like this. Most of the time, she can pretend like it’s normal. Like nothing changed. Nothing happened. Most of the day, Baghera acts like nothing happened at all. Her parents pretend to get along, her dad pretends like he’s not sick, and her Tio is always asking her if she is sleeping. As if he doesn’t sleep either.

Which, to be fair, Pomme doesn’t sleep. Not much. Not enough. It’s like Cellbit knows that. He always checked in on her and asked if she was sleeping and Pomme would lie and tell him that she was. She’s not. There was no one for her to sleep with anymore. She can’t sleep without hearing someone’s heart and by now, no one takes her seriously anymore. She can’t beg someone to go to bed with her because she’s older. She’s mature. She’s the French sniper. She can keep up with Chayanne. She shouldn’t need anyone to put her to sleep. Chayanne doesn’t. Why can’t she be more like Chayanne?

Pomme had a sleepover with her mom, just her mom, the first time she’d been allowed to have one since her mother came back from Purgatory. She’d spent those early nights with BadBoy because it was the safest. He’s the one with the safest house, with the best defenses. Etoiles still doesn't even have a house yet. By the time they deemed it safe enough for her to pick where she wanted to sleep, Baghera had started to spiral and Pomme couldn’t spend the night. Baghera is safe to be around! That’s not the problem. The problem, Richarlyson tells her, is that Baghera cries almost every night. His dad doesn’t cry that often, if ever. Richarlyson said he can count on his fingers the number of times his dad cried, but he’s Pomme’s spy for her mother.

But it’s been a year. Richarlyson said that she doesn’t cry every night anymore. And Pomme gets to have a sleepover with her mom.

Everyone’s been calling it a sleepover. Everyone except for Pomme and Baghera. It felt wrong in her mouth. This is her mom. Her mother. She spends all day with her. A sleepover made it sound like she isn’t supposed to be there regularly. But she is. Baghera is her mom, not her tia. It’s her mother. She should be spending more time with her than she does. She felt replaceable. Easy to miss. Easy to forget about. Baghera doesn’t want her around anymore. Why else would everyone else seem so insistent on calling this a sleepover? It feels like the worst day of Pomme’s life.

At least, it would be, if Pomme hadn’t already had her worst day. She should be able to tolerate this. She’s been through worse. She felt childish wanting to throw a tantrum over this. She knew, she knew, that she was being ridiculous. She couldn’t help it anyway.

Baghera still lives with her tios. Pomme didn’t think that would be changing any time soon. Baby steps, Baghera had called it. She only just started sleeping in her own room. Maybe someday, she could work her way up to living on her own again. Richarlyson is out with Felps. Pepito is with Carre. Roier went out with some friends and wouldn’t be back until later. That left just Cellbit at home. Baghera promised that he wouldn’t bother them. Like he was never there. Pomme couldn’t decide if she was relieved or worried by the news. The last time she was on her own, it didn’t end well. But then again, isn’t it just that her mom is being babysat all the time? It’s exhausting. Pomme felt exhausted but she can’t sleep.

”Have fun at your sleepover,” Dapper said, waving to her as Pomme threw her bag over her shoulder.

”It’s not a sleepover,” Pomme snapped before she could stop it. Her journal tucked in her arm and she was really hoping that this one night thing would turn into her normal schedule again. This is her mom. Her mother. She gets to spend the night because it’s her day with her mom. Not because it’s a sleepover.

”Oh, right,” Dapper frowned. He shrugged. “Have fun with Mom.” He turned back to the book he was reading. Pomme held her bag closer and tried not to let the frustration take a hold of her. Breathe, her mother would tell her if she was here now. In and out, Pomme. Same thing Baghera has always told her. Breathe. She felt ridiculous being this frustrated. She’s too old to have a meltdown like this. Maybe Sunny could get away with it. Pepito for sure. Pomme doesn’t spend as much time as she should with Chunsik, but he probably could as well. Empanada could even get away with it if she had a reason to but Tia Bagi is a great mom and while Empanada doesn’t spend as much time with her other moms, Pomme knows that they are great too.

Pomme’s mom is great as well! She is! She’s just… different. She’s different. Like an opened ice cream container, someone had explained it as. The same flavor, but less. Someone scooped some of that ice cream out of her and now there is less of her left. It’s a strange analogy. She can’t remember who said it to her by now. She felt exhausted all the time. Her mom is less. The same, but less. Less what? Less something, that’s for sure. Less like herself. She still jokes with Pomme. Still laughs and plays and goes on adventures. It’s just not the same.

Baghera is lying to her about something. Pomme knows that she is. Her mom is lying and she’s sick. Trauma. Pomme hated that word. It took over her life and Pomme wanted it gone.

When Baghera came to pick her up, Pomme was waiting by the door. Baghera grinned and said; “I heard from Etoiles there is a really cool cave system a couple hundred blocks away. Want to go explore it?” Everything isn’t the same. It’s not. Pomme is tired of pretending like it is. But Baghera remembered that Pomme loves to explore and at least that is something.

They were exhausted by the time they concluded their exploration. Baghera clearly had some sort of pain in her body that faded when Pomme turned to talk to her. Pomme felt like she was going to pass out if she had to walk anymore but she quickly clocked that it was Baghera’s back that was bothering her and Pomme sucked it up for a bit longer to make it back to her Tios’ home. Something is wrong with her mom. Her mom is getting sick with trauma and her night over is going to be ruined because Pomme got to do something that she enjoyed doing and now neither of them can function anymore.

”You look really sleepy, darling,” Baghera cooed gently when Pomme curled up on the couch. She can hear her Tio Cellbit in his office, pacing back and forth on the hardwood floor. He stopped the moment her mother spoke. Pomme had no reason for it to make her angry, but it did anyway. “We should think about going to bed.”

”I’m fine,” Pomme said. She curled up in the blanket because the feeling of the fuzzy blanket was so cozy and soothing. She was wide awake despite being exhausted and Baghera tucked her against her side and kissed her head. They planned to watch a movie but Pomme thought they might fall asleep first instead.

”We had a long day,” Baghera chuckled. “I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Will she? Pomme yawned and snuggled against Baghera’s side. She said that she would be here, is promising it, but can Pomme believe it? Everything is hard. It’s so hard. Pomme can hear her mom’s heart faintly. She’d cry, if she didn’t fear setting Baghera off and she’ll never see her again. No one has answers for her. No one tells her anything. They always say that her mother is ‘fine’. Baghera is fine. She’s going through a hard time right now, but she’s fine. She’ll get back to normal eventually, but Pomme isn’t stupid. She knows. She’s being lied to.

Part of her fears that she’s actually just been discarded and no one has the heart to tell her. Baghera wouldn’t, couldn’t. She promised Pomme that she would always be there, but the emotional part of her brain panicked at the new reality that she isn’t around as much.

”We can watch a movie still,” Baghera offered. She pressed a kiss to the top of Pomme’s head and ran her fingers through her hair. “Did you still want to watch a movie? I can make popcorn.”

”I don’t want popcorn,” Pomme mumbled. She rubbed her eyes and yawned against her will. Somewhere in his office, Pomme could hear Cellbit shuffling around, and for some reason, that was a bit of a comfort. The fact that she isn’t alone. That if her mom has another crying fit, Pomme can run to him for help. “I want to watch a movie though.”

”Yeah! Let’s find a movie,” Baghera grinned. She reached over Pomme for the remote and settled back on the couch. She pulled Pomme closer and Pomme realized for not the first, and certainly not the last, time that she’s being ridiculous. Baghera isn’t going to leave her. “What movie do you want to watch?”

”Disney movie,” Pomme decided. “Can we watch a princess movie?”

”Mhm. Which one?” Baghera asked, clicking through the different channels on the TV until she found the movies. It was moments like these that reminded Pomme of the stark difference between now and back in the Federation. No, she’s not supposed to think about that. She’s not supposed to remember. She’s supposed to pretend like it never happened. She’s got some dragon mother out there that will come back for her. Some day.

That dragon mother doesn’t exist. They found her in the walls because the Federation wanted her dead. No. Maybe? Pomme honestly didn’t know. If they wanted her dead, she should be dead. If they’d wanted her, then she shouldn’t have been trapped alone back there. Time hadn’t felt real. It hadn’t made sense. It wasn’t fair. It had been her and Tallulah stuck in the wall, unheard and unloved. Richarlyson had bolted out of the building and hadn’t been seen again until Pomme got pulled out of the wall by her mom.

Pomme hadn’t been wanted. Logically, she knew that her mother still wanted her. It didn’t stop the fear from eating her alive anyway.

“I want that one,” Pomme hummed, pointing to literally the first one that caught her eye. She was sure she had a favorite. She vaguely remembered something about some girl with a sword and a dragon, but she hadn’t been thinking straight for a long time. She hadn’t thought about having a favorite anything since before they ran away. Things get taken so easily. Life gets ruined so quickly. It felt almost pointless for her to enjoy anything anymore.

“Then that one it is,” Baghera agreed gently. She pulled Pomme closer to her and pressed a kiss to her head, shifting them until Pomme’s head rested against her chest and Pomme felt like crying. 

“I know what you are doing,” Pomme sniffled before she could stop it. “I’m not sleepy.” The opening began to play, a movie Pomme couldn’t remember watching before. Actually, how often did she watch movies anymore? Had she ever watched any other movie? Did she think she had a favorite because she only watched the one?

“Mm,” Baghera hummed again. “You are sleepy. It’s okay to go to sleep. If you don’t, we’ll watch the movie instead.”

Thing is, Pomme is exhausted. She was so tired. She’s been so tired for days. For weeks. For months. Maybe she’d been tired her whole life. She didn’t know. She yawned despite her best efforts and the shining colors of the scene came to life in the hypotonic way and despite everything in her that reminded her that she’d never been safe before, Pomme found herself feeling safe again. Despite herself. Despite the logic.

When she slept, she dreamed of the Federation. Of the tube they had pulled her from and how she couldn’t breathe. She remembered the labored breathing and the fear in her body and the scientists standing above her as if they didn’t care. “No point of putting her on oxygen if she’s unable to breathe without it.” A voice that acted like she wasn’t even there. “A waste of resources. Most of them developed healthy and strong. Seven out of twelve is higher than any batch we’ve made thus far.” Pomme remembered crying out, begging for attention and no one giving it to her.

She felt like she was drowning, scared and alone. Someone had stopped at her side and brushed her hair from her face. No one said anything to her. No one spoke. Not a single person cared for her. She twisted and cried, begging for someone to help her. She can’t breathe. She’s not breathing. No one cared to help her once. She felt so alone.

When Pomme snapped awake, she was wide eyed in Baghera’s bed. Baghera shushed her softly, wide awake. “Breathe.” She heard her mother say. “In and out. Good. Good girl. Just like that.” She ran her fingers over Pomme’s hair gently and Pomme turned into her side and cried.

When she had finally, finally, talked about it with anyone else, it had been Richarlyson. In Purgatory, they had too much time to spend talking. He told her about hiding away in small spaces and under places and in things he shouldn’t have been in until he finally managed to slip out of the building all together and got out. He ended up in front of the adoption building, dirty and cold and missing half a leg, and never said a word of what the Federation did to him. “I’m sure it was the same for you. They liked to poke me and stick these things in me and it hurt. When they wanted me dead, I ran away. I think they wanted to find out why I glitch. I don’t think they really wanted to help me.”

Pomme had told him about when she was there too. She told him about the too small cages and always feeling tired and cold and scared. She told him she got poked and prod and stabbed and all sorts of other things with scientists who didn’t care and guard who liked to see them cry. She talked about seeing the others, reaching for their hands to comfort them or herself, she couldn’t remember, she didn’t care which one it was, and their hands were smacked until they let go. It was cold, it was exhausting, it was so hard to exist, and then they discarded her and locked her behind the wall. “I tried so hard for them. I don’t know what exactly I did wrong. They ran so many tests on me that I thought they’d keep there forever. But they didn’t. They said ‘you’re not good enough’ and left me to die.”

Things are better now. She didn’t die. She has parents, a lot of them. They’d do anything to make sure she stayed alive, but it’s still terrifying. The things that hunt them down. The monsters that live inside their walls. Pomme has never been safe. She didn’t know when she would be. But she sobbed against her mother’s side while Baghera brushed the hair back from the top of her head.

“Shh, baby, you’re okay,” Baghera whispered. Maybe it’s the fact that Pomme is called ‘baby’ and not ‘darling’ is what sent her over the edge.

“It’s not okay,” Pomme bawled, hiding her face in her arms and curled against her mother’s side. “I’m not okay. I want to go home.”

Nothing feels like home. Not anymore. Her parents help but they’re just as disoriented as she is, no matter how much they tell her that they have it under control. Because they don’t. They don’t have it under control. Half the time, her parents are pretending like they aren’t worried and the other half they’re straight up lying to her face. Sometimes Baghera doesn’t even feel like Baghera. Like some kind of stranger has taken over. 

“I know,” Baghera whispered. “I’m sorry. I wish you could go home.” Pomme sobbed, plugging her ears. It doesn’t sound right, it doesn’t feel right. She wailed and moved closer. If she could just get in Baghera’s arms, maybe then everything would go back to normal. If she could get in Baghera’s arms, then maybe she’s just making it all up in her head and they are fine.

Baghera finally managed to take the hint and scooped her up in her arms, letting Pomme cry into her shoulder. It’s a mix of everything. Of her past with the Federation. Of her current situation with her mom.

The next day, Pomme caught Cellbit by the arm and pulled them over to the side. With tears in her eyes that threatened to fall, she whispered; “Sometimes I don’t think she’s my mom.” It’s a secret she can’t bear to share with anyone else but Cellbit is with Baghera all the time. They can’t exist without the other. If anyone could convince her that Baghera hasn’t really changed, it would be him. If anyone can tell her there’s no stranger that’s possessed her mom, he could do it.

“Oh, baby girl, don’t cry,” Cellbit whispered back, kneeling down to her height. He brushed the tears from her cheeks and pulled her into a hug. “I guess your night didn’t go very well.”

“You’re not saying no,” Pomme sobbed, hiding her face in his shoulder. He’s not saying no. Something is wrong with her mother. Something is wrong and everyone is pretending like it’s fine.

“No, baby, she’s still your mom,” Cellbit soothed quickly. “She’s still Baghera. She’s just got a lot going on in her head right now. I’ll talk to her.”

But that's stupid. It’s so fucking stupid. It’s the stupidest thing anyone’s ever said and that’s saying a lot because she has to listen to Dapper talk. Why does anyone need to talk to her mom? Why does anyone have to bother her? Why can’t Pomme just fix it? Why can’t it all just go away?

“She feels like a stranger sometimes,” Pomme wailed before she could stop it. It’s such a stupid thing to cry about. Pomme is crying anyway.

“I know. I know she does,” Cellbit agreed. “I’ll talk to her, I promise. It’s going to be okay.”

“I feel like we’re always saying that!” Pomme couldn’t stop it. She needed to grow up. She needed to get her life together. Why can’t she be more like Chayanne? “And nothing ever works. It doesn’t work.”

“You’re right,” Cellbit agreed. He reached under her arms to pick her up and Pomme let him. It’s been almost a year. She’s just so sick of this. She just wanted to be a kid again. Her nightmare from last night reminded her that she’s never actually been one. “You are right. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

Everything felt like so much. It’s too much. Pomme can’t do it anymore. She just wanted everything back to normal. Back to before Purgatory and this new place. Back when it was just the codes to worry about.

For the first time in her life, Pomme has more than just the fear of dying. She had the fear of losing her mom now too.

Chapter Text

Baghera didn’t want to have this conversation. Not at all. Not in the slightest. Not a single word. She could hardly even grit it out from between her teeth with anyone other than Cellbit. How was she supposed to sit down across from Pomme and tell her everything?

Because it’s not so simple. It’s not an easy topic. Baghera felt like she was going to throw up all day. In fact, she might have. She must have. Hours slipped through her fingers like they were nothing and Cellbit’s own paranoia seemed to have triggered out someone else on top of that as well. Baghera was going to throw up again. She was. She felt in in her soul. She felt her skin crawling and her stomach twisting and her face flush and Roier had gently pulled her aside two hours before Pomme was supposed to come to let her know that she didn’t have to do this right now. They can find some other explanation for Pomme.

“She’s Pomme,” Baghera found herself saying. Perhaps it wasn’t just herself. “She probably already knows.”

“That is probably true. She probably already knows something is up,” Roier had agreed. “But we don’t want to trigger you anymore today.”

Baghera had wrote a speech. An explanation. She had been planning this for days. Sept had been triggered out every night because of the stress of it making Baghera ill and Cellbit said that she had been extremely clingy and emotional in a way that was unlike her. The stress of everything leaking into this barely functioning system and pulling them all apart into little pieces. Baghera could still back out, save herself the stress, but it hadn’t broken her yet. She was still able to prepare for it on her own. And if it hadn’t been on her own, then there was one alter who’d really been pushed forward recently helping to make this happen. They’d left a note for Baghera once. It said ‘Pomme deserves to know.’ And, well, fuck it. They were right.

Cellbit confirmed that Pomme knew something was wrong. She’d come to him multiple times with tears in her eyes and breaking down in his arms because she felt like something was wrong. “She knows,” Cellbit had agreed. “She says that sometimes you feel like a stranger.” Which had to be true because now that Baghera was forced to actually sort her life out, she realized just how many gaps there were in her memory. She went out with Bad, Dapper, and Pomme the other day and didn’t remember a second of it. Pomme will tell her a story of something they had done together and Baghera won’t be able to recall doing that at all. She didn’t realize how often she’d smile and nod at memories she didn’t have before, how many gaps there were, until she was forced to confront them head on.

Which… makes sense. The whole point of the disorder is the fact that she can’t remember things that happen to her. To keep her safe and keep her functioning. It makes sense. It’s just incredibly fucking frustrating.

“Pomme knows that I’m a stranger,” Baghera had repeated on her tongue, but it felt foreign to her. Like it’s not just her there. Someone else that Baghera has always gotten a strange vibe from. Calm, collected, calculated, cold. Curious about how things are. She didn’t like how calm they were about this. How it felt like they wanted to see her burn.

They started writing notes back and forth. Communication! It’s communication. Baghera is actually speaking to the voices in her head, as she’s so fondly dubbed them. A bit on the nose, but what else isn’t? She’s establishing communication with one of them. Cellbit still acts as a mediator between her and Sept because while Baghera might have stopped intentionally sabotaging Sept at every given chance, there was some part of her subconscious that wanted to see that baby bird bleed and cry.

‘What would be the easiest way to explain to Pomme?’ The other had written. ‘ She is your daughter. You would know her best. How would you explain this to her?’

‘I don’t know?’ Baghera had written back. It felt weird to write a note about something she can’t even open her mouth to speak about. ‘ Pomme is smart. She doesn’t need to be talked down to, but it’s still a hard idea to understand. I don’t know.’

Despite all the issues Baghera has been having with the mastermind, the fact that they do whatever they like, they seem… helpful. Just for this. Like for some reason, they actually care. Like somehow, they can get along. Even if it’s just to help Pomme understand that she’s not the problem. It’s Baghera’s biggest fear that her daughter will put all of this onto herself somehow and blame herself. Or that Pomme will feel responsible and Baghera doesn’t want that. She can’t have that for her daughter. She won’t have that.

The mastermind has been… difficult. Baghera struggled with all the people in her head, especially with coming to terms with it in the first place and then remembering that she had it in second, but now there is this all controlling force that seemed to override her whenever they felt like it. Could do the things they wanted and say the things they wanted and over all just left Baghera feeling frustrated because she lacked the control she so desperately needed in this moment.

You’re fine. She answered herself when she had started to get upset about it. I’m trying to make this easier. You’re becoming difficult to work with. You needed a push.

But I didn’t want to tell Jaiden. I wanted to feel normal. Baghera snapped back at her own thoughts.

We’re not normal. And I never asked to be here in the first place.

Oh. Ohhh. Oh. Those aren’t her thoughts. That’s not her. That’s the mastermind. They’re talking. Short. Briefly. Baghera doesn’t actually want to talk to them. She was still mad about the whole telling Jaiden thing. Baghera could barely grit out her past to Pierre, of all people, and the mastermind just let the biggest secret of her life to Jaiden. It’s not fair. Not fair at all. Pierre is one of the people Baghera trusts with her life. They have always had a strange relationship but if there is one thing Baghera knows it’s that if Pierre wanted to hurt her, he would have done so a long time ago.

I do what I think is best for us. That’s my job.

“You’re not helpful,” Baghera hissed. “You’re making my life harder.”

It’s not just yours. I’m stuck with you here too. I didn’t ask to exist. I didn’t ask to do this.

Which is a great point. One that Baghera absolutely despises. Specifically because it is a really, really good point. That technically, it’s not just her life. That the mastermind and Sept and everyone else that exist in a weird, unidentified limbo are also here. They are stuck together whether they like it or not. And right now, Baghera absolutely doesn’t like it. The mastermind seems to hate it too and from the very brief interactions that Cellbit does have with them, he hates them too.

“They weren’t wrong when they said I wouldn’t like them,” Cellbit had mumbled one day, head on his hand. “They are becoming a lot more confident and a massive dick.” He shoved the eggs on his plate with his fork and Baghera struggled to think of the last time either of them had eaten a full meal.

So that’s great. Wonderful. Baghera fucking hates everyone in the system so far. Which, granted, is not a lot. It’s the three of them who have one too many overlapping jobs and responsibilities and none of them can agree on what to do. Well, Sept’s a baby. Sept can’t count. She was hardly aware of the world around her. So it’s Baghera and the mastermind fighting over what the fuck they were going to do.

At least they can agree on the fact that Pomme has to know. If not because they wanted to make her understand that she’s not the problem, then because Pomme already knows and it’s much easier to just rip the bandaid off all together. If they all can’t get along, at least they can figure out what the fuck they were going to do for this.

Pomme will be over in an hour. It’s Baghera’s night to have her, but Baghera already made plans with Etoiles to come get Pomme if this goes badly. He promised to hang out nearby, just in case, and Baghera can’t help but feel like she’s started to become paranoid. Cellbit ranges from helpful to a slight annoyance, but he told Roier what had happened to them after the hunt and before the arena and while Baghera literally has no memory of that happening whatsoever, Cellbit does and it’s haunting his every move right now. She can’t blame him for it. She knows the general idea of what happened. She’s heard it enough times that she could report back to someone else what had been done to them. She has the scars to prove it. There’s just nothing there. She felt numb about it, especially in relation to what was done to her, but when she saw the way it affects her brother, that made her angry.

Focus. Right. Pomme will be here in an hour. She needs to do this. If not because of the fact that Pomme already knows something is going on then because Baghera can’t stand lying to her anymore.

She has a script she’s supposed to follow, she practiced it at least thirteen times, maybe more. The mastermind at least agreed to work together with them to keep Sept at bay, although Baghera has a feeling that they have the same precautions as she does when it comes to Sept. Which ultimately means that no one in the system likes her, making that super convenient for everyone else involved. (Sarcasm, obviously, Baghera was struggling to be able to function with the head splitting headache as is, not to mention the fact that no one in their house can even sleep when Sept is out because that kid’s job is to be scared of everything.)

Pomme is smart. She’s a good kid. Everyone keeps telling her that it will work itself out in the end. Baghera is terrified regardless.

Roier and Cellbit have a copy of her script because Baghera has a feeling that she knows exactly how this will go. She will start trying to explain it all to Pomme before that one alter who was determined to shut down any attempts at connection will come out and stop her from speaking anymore. Just like they always do. Which means that just like every other time, Cellbit will have to come to her rescue to finish explaining. Which is exhausting. Baghera’s exhausted. She doesn’t want to be exhausted anymore. She wants to function. She wants her life back.

It’s not her life anymore. Actually, it was never just her life to begin with.

“It’s going to be fine,” Roier promised, sitting down at the table across from her. Baghera groaned and dropped her head in her arms. He said the same thing at therapy group yesterday. It was all Baghera had managed to spit out about her life, what was bothering her, before she had shut down. Cellbit hadn’t been able to say anything and both of them scattered from the room as soon as they were allowed too, although Bagi and Jaiden hadn’t left for two hours after that.

“She’s gonna hate me,” Baghera moaned.

“She won’t hate you,” Roier scolded. “She might be confused or worried, but she’s not going to hate you.”

“I’m a bad mom.”

“Don’t even start with that,” Roier said firmly. “You’re a great mom. Your kids love you. Pomme is worried about you. The same way you worry about her. She’s an anxious kid. She’s going to worry regardless of what you do. You’re a great mom. She’s not going to hate you.”

“I don’t even remember her birthday,” Baghera whispered. “I know we did something. There is photo evidence that I was there. And I don’t remember it.”

“That was months ago,” Roier pointed out. “And months ago you were significantly less stable than you are now. You just got back from Purgatory. That was incredibly difficult. You made it through that. Don’t beat yourself up. You’re surviving right now. That’s all anyone can ask of you.”

Except Baghera does have to be a mother. And it’s not just her life. She has to share it. Which means that Pomme has to share her mother too. Pomme has to share her time. That’s not fair to Pomme. Granted, Baghera usually gets most of her time with Pomme. There have been very few instances where Baghera doesn’t remember spending time with Pomme. Even less that Pomme has known something is wrong.

But the point is that Pomme does know. And this isn’t working much longer.

Roier tried to persuade her to eat something but it’s Cellbit who sat next to her and ate with her. She can’t place what it is that makes doing things with Cellbit that much easier but it does help. Pac said it was the soulmate thing. Phil and Roier said trauma likely played a factor in it. Baghera just got the feeling that she didn’t like being alone.

The time ticked down slowly. She read and reread and reread her script again. She felt like she was going to cry but at the same time, she was pacing the floor impatiently. She has to do this. If she doesn’t, it’s going to make everything harder. She knows this. It will be harder because Pomme is getting scared. Baghera can’t have her baby scared. She knew she needed to get this out. Get it over with. Etoiles will be nearby in case it goes badly. It’s going to go badly. There’s no way this will go over well. Pomme is going to hate her.

She knows that she just needs to get this over with. It doesn’t make it any easier.

When Pomme finally did arrive, Etoiles stayed at the door while Pomme tore through the hallway, throwing herself in Baghera’s arms. “Maman, look what we found! Look!” Pomme pulled back before Baghera could even hug her back properly and opened her hand. Inside were a small collection of pearls. “We found them on our adventure today! We found a whole bunch of clams and we opened them and they had pearls inside! This one had two!” She pointed out two specific pearls. Baghera wasn’t sure what made them different from the others, but Pomme was happy about it regardless.

“I was thinking we could make them into a bracelet tonight!” Pomme continued, glancing up from the pearls in her hand to look up at Baghera. “I thought that would be a fun project to do together! And then we could…” She faltered and reached up for her cheek. Baghera crouched down in front of her, running her fingers over her face. “What’s wrong? I can’t stay the night, can I? Maman…” Pomme whined and threw her arms around Baghera’s neck and buried her face in her shoulder. “I never get to stay. I never get to come over.”

“Baby, that’s not true,” She soothed softly. Pomme wailed.

“I’m not your baby! I’m your darling! You call me darling! Maman!” And Pomme burst into tears, climbing into her arms to be picked up. Baghera scooped her up and hugged her close and Cellbit was in her head in a moment to feel around and see what’s going on. She should be reacting more. She usually does, doesn’t she? Why isn’t she reacting?

“You’re right, I do,” Baghera whispered back. She pressed a kiss to her head. “I do call you darling.” The mastermind is around , Cellbit concluded, grabbing onto Baghera tightly through their bond and refusing to let go. “You are my darling. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You can stay the night, as long as you want to stay.”

Pomme is an anxious child. She has always been that way. This is nothing new. Baghera just needed to calm her down. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is happening. Pomme won’t have to leave.

“Maman, I just want to stay with you,” Pomme sobbed. “I want to stay. I want you here. Don’t leave me. I just want you.”

Oh. Not good. Baghera isn’t reacting like she usually does. She’s not alone. She can’t speak. She’s not doing well.

“Pomme, baby, you’re okay,” She answered anyway. Baghera felt herself get pushed back, like she was watching through a window. A TV show. She had no control. “It’s okay. You’re not going anywhere. You’re fine. We just need to have a chat, baby. I have to tell you something important.”

“I’m not your baby,” Pomme cried. She wrapped her arms around them tighter. It’s not just Baghera. The mastermind is here too. They’re taking over.

Do you want me to step in? Cellbit. His thoughts twist and turn and connect.

I can do it.

She’s my baby.

Baghera, you can’t talk right now. I can do it. I won’t make you leave.

Baghera let go of the controls she was so used to having and sat back to watch helplessly. Pomme is crying. This hasn’t started out well at all. They aren’t necessarily wrong though. Despite having the whole script, Baghera has no idea what to say. She reached for Cellbit through their bond, something that felt a whole lot harder to do now that she’s not in control and made him stay nearby in case this goes badly. It is going badly. Pomme will hate her.

“You’re right,” The mastermind answered for her. It’s their reason Pomme is crying in the first place. Their presence tipped Pomme off. “I don’t usually call you baby, right?” She sat with Pomme on the couch and Pomme cried harder at the movement and Baghera really wanted to make it better but she can’t. She doesn’t have control. She’s just there to watch because she can’t speak.

Get her a blanket. Baghera knew that if there was any chance of trying to regulate Pomme, it would be by making sure Pomme has some baseline of normal. And Baghera usually gets her a blanket and holds her against her chest until the tears stop. Tell her to breathe. Call her darling. That’s what I call her.

I’m not you. But the mastermind does everything they are told to do, wrapping a blanket around Pomme’s shoulders.

Pomme needs me right now. Maybe it’s that response that gets the mastermind to loosen their control and let Baghera up front to calm Pomme back down. She can already feel the splitting headache. Baghera hated fighting over this already. They had a script. They wrote a script. The mastermind had seemed helpful all the way up until now.

“Darling, breathe,” Baghera whispered softly. She pressed a kiss to Pomme’s head. “In and out. You’re not in trouble. You don’t have to leave. You can spend the night. I’m right here. Breathe. Good, Pomme, good. Just like that.”

I’m not good with kids.

Baghera wanted to snap at them because clearly they aren’t. They were actively making Pomme worse. Baghera kissed her head again and she can feel Cellbit’s stress and there is so much going on that she found this was usually the point where she shut down, but she’s not. She had the support of the mastermind, but this is already not going to plan.

Pomme gasped in a breath, but it was the final violent cry she let out. She shuttered against Baghera’s body and sniffled, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. The pearls are still held tightly inside. They spent so long trying to plan this out that Baghera forgot to tell Pomme that she wasn’t in trouble and nothing was wrong.

“Darling, we just have to chat,” Baghera whispered gently. Pomme let out another soft wail. “You’re not in trouble. Nothing’s wrong. Your tio told me that I feel like a stranger sometimes.”

“I’m sorry,” Pomme sobbed out, sitting up to bite at her free fingers. “I- I-“ Baghera shushed her gently. She was beginning to feel numb again. She had no idea who she actually was.

“Pomme, I’m not angry. You’re not in trouble.” She brushed the tears from Pomme’s cheeks. Pomme’s head ducked against her hand, rubbing her cheek against her fingers. This is a lot harder than she thought. It’s one thing to plan it, it’s another thing to do it. She has no idea who she actually is. She might be both of them. The mastermind might have taken over. She might be the mastermind. They might have disappeared back inside. She doesn’t know. “This is about me, baby. Not you. I-“

“Stop,” Pomme wailed again, squeezing her eyes shut. “My Maman doesn’t call me baby. You call me darling.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Oh. Okay. It’s the mastermind. But it’s also Baghera. They have to do this together. This might be the first time they’ve ever done anything together. “I don’t…”

“That’s what I meant,” Pomme continued with a cry. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands again. “When I told Tio Cellbo that you feel like a stranger sometimes. Because you say things that don’t sound like you usually do and you sometimes act different and you stress me out because I don’t know what to do and it happened more and more and now- and now-“ She gasped out another breath and dragged in a shaky breath and shivered and Baghera couldn’t feel enough to figure out what she was supposed to do.

“Darling, I know. It’s okay. You’re right. Sometimes I do feel like a stranger. You are right, I’m not mad. Breathe, in and out.” It’s going bad. It’s bad. This isn’t working. They need help, right? They should get help. So why does she feel repulsed at the thought. They’re independent. They don’t need anyone.

Roier’s going to help. Do you want Etoiles to come in?

When Roier crouched down next to Pomme, she wailed and fell back against their shoulder. Baghera can’t feel enough to know what to do. “Pomme, everything is okay,” Roier started.

“It’s not okay! It’s not! Everyone keeps saying that and it’s not!”

“You’re right,” Roier said. “It hasn’t been okay and your mom knows that you know something has been wrong. She just wants to tell you why.”

“It’s going bad,” Baghera heard herself mumble. She’s not sure who she is. Cellbit’s trying to be helpful and tell her that it’s both of them together. Baghera and the mastermind.

“Yeah, we just freaked Pomme out,” Roier agreed. “Nothing is wrong, Pomme. Do you want Etoiles to come hang out for a while too?”

Pomme sniffled and shook her head. “I just want my mom. I want her back.”

“Pomme, she’s trying to tell you why she feels so strange sometimes, that’s all.” Roier reached to pick her up. Pomme sobbed and relented, letting him scoop her up in his arms so that he could turn her to face her mom. Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned back against the couch so Baghera could turn to face her.

Pomme, for the record, seemed to be able to breathe. Maybe they did make the right call because she can breathe and Baghera still felt numb, like someone had no idea what they were supposed to do or feel or think, but she can at least remember that they had a script to follow.

“Pomme, I’m so sorry,” She started. She reached a hand out to brush over Pomme’s cheek and wipe away the tears. Pomme sniffled and leaned against her hand. Like it was the last time she ever would. How many times had Pomme had that reaction and Baghera just… didn’t realize? “I’m sorry that everything has been so different for you. It has been confusing and hard, right?”

Script. Follow the script. They worked together on it for a reason. So that Baghera could speak about it. The mastermind has always been better at speaking but Baghera is better with Pomme.

“It’s okay, Maman,” Pomme said. She sounded like she was going to cry again. “Really, it’s okay. I’m a big girl, I can do it. I’ve figured it out this far.” But Pomme isn’t okay because she’s gone crying to Cellbit. She’s not okay. She hates all of this. Baghera needed to fix it somehow. This won’t fix it, but Pomme will be able to understand what is going on a little bit better.

“I know. You are so big, but you’re also confused and worried and that’s okay. It’s okay to be confused and worried.” Baghera took a deep breath in and out and Pomme copied her instinctively. Baghera still felt numb, not quite herself. She didn’t think she could ever get used to it. “I have been acting funny and that’s not fair to you. I do feel like a stranger sometimes.”

“Maman, it’s okay,” Pomme started, her hand tightening around Roier’s arm around her. “It’s okay, Maman, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’m a big kid. I’m not scared.”

“You are scared,” Baghera answered slowly. She raised her gaze to meet Pomme’s eyes and wide, blue eyes filled with tears stared back. Pomme might not be crying at that moment, but Baghera can see her lip trembling and the shaking shutter she let out. Pomme is terrified. Of what, Baghera can’t place. It’s not of her. She would be able to tell if Pomme was afraid of her. “It’s okay to be scared. Things are very different now. Even grown ups get scared.” She would love to comment more on Pomme’s own words, but she found herself unable to figure out what to say.

They have a script. She wrote it with the mastermind. By all accounts, Baghera should be able to say what she needs to. But none of this is going to plan at all.

“Pomme,” She started again, dropping her gaze again and extending a hand out to hold Pomme’s. Pomme took it. Her hand was shaking. Baghera felt too calm for this. The anxiety she does feel is Cellbit’s. It’s Cellbit’s because it twists and turns and connects with red strings. “A lot of things are different right now because I learned some things about myself that have changed my life. I don’t know how to make it better yet. I’m still figuring it out. And you got caught in the middle of it by accident. I hurt you without meaning to.”

“Maman, it’s okay,” Pomme repeated like it was the only defense she had. “You didn’t mean it. I’m not mad.”

“I know you’re not,” Baghera agreed. “And it would be okay if you were mad at me too. Because it is unfair to you. You deserve better. I’m still trying to figure everything out and that takes time. So you were right when you said that I feel like a stranger sometimes. Because sometimes I am a stranger.” It pulled… some sort of reaction out of Pomme. She sniffled and moved back against Roier’s body and reached out for her.

“I just want you,” She whispered. Baghera wiped the tears from Pomme’s cheeks again. “I want you back. I want it to go back to normal.”

“I know. I do too, but this is the new normal,” Baghera whispered back. “Because I have to learn how to live life again. I have to learn how to live with the stranger.”

“Why can’t they just go away?” Pomme asked, squeezing Baghera’s fingers in her free hand. She still had those pearls in her other one, clutched tight against her chest.

“Because it’s their life too,” Baghera answered carefully. “And it’s been their life too for a long time. And now we have to learn how to live together.”

“But why?” Pomme asked. And it seemed like that answer was finally getting to Pomme. That she was starting to understand. She wasn’t as panicked as before and Baghera can’t feel enough to understand why, but she was glad that it wasn’t as bad as it was before. “Why do you have to share your life with a stranger? That doesn’t make sense.”

No. It doesn’t. Realistically, they know that it’s hard. All of this is hard. “Because when we were very little, younger than you, something really bad happened to us. And because that happened, our brain said it was too hard to live by ourselves. Since we didn’t have anyone else, our brain made up other people to help instead. Now we all have to share a life and share a body and that’s been really hard.”

Pomme stared, biting at her index finger in her free hand. The silence is hard. Now that the secret is out, Baghera felt that control slipped back into her hands and the panic seeped back in. She can speak. Pomme knows. She can speak very minimally but she can speak.

Pomme is going to hate her. This isn’t going to go over well. Pomme will hate her.

“Something bad happened?” Pomme whispered instead. And her finger pulled out of her mouth and reached for Baghera’s face instead. “When you were little?” When Baghera could meet her eyes, she was met with wide, blue eyes again. Unshed tears, but there was no panic. “If you were smaller than me and I’m not so big, then you must have been so scared.”

“I must have been,” Baghera breathed out slowly. She made eye contact with Roier and he grinned. He might not know what she said, but he knows progress was made. It’s something. This is something. It’s not good or bad but it’s something. She turned her attention back over to Pomme and let her run her fingers over her face again. “But I don’t remember. I don’t remember a lot of things from when I was little.”

“How do you not remember? Do you know what happened?” Pomme asked slowly. She moved forward and that closed hand full of pearls came to rest on Baghera’s shoulder. “Why would anyone want to do bad things? You’re a good person, Maman. Why would anyone want to do that?”

“Darling, I don’t know,” Baghera answered quietly. “I don’t know why they did it. But they did. I don’t remember because they hurt me a lot. One of the strangers I share a life with remembers those things because that was part of her life.”

“Why do you share a life?” Pomme asked. The tears have stopped. She shivered but reached out for a hug. “How come you have to? I don’t share a life with a stranger.”

“They aren’t strangers to me,” Baghera answered. She reached to scoop up Pomme and hold her again. It’s not going bad. This is actually working. Pomme isn’t freaking out on her. “They are strangers to you because you’ve never introduced yourself before. But I’ve had them for a long time, a very long time. We just figured out that we share a life and we don’t know how to do it well yet. That’s why it’s been so strange for you, baby.” Pomme flinched back slightly and Roier was at the ready to catch her if needed, but Pomme looked up at Baghera’s first.

“Is there a stranger now?” Pomme asked carefully. “How do they work?”

“I think so?” Baghera replied. “I’m not.. sure. We have a hard time figuring it out sometimes. Usually, we’re just Baghera Jones, the same as always and your mom. Sometimes, someone else wants to say hi. Sometimes something else happens that makes us scared and someone else knows it’s their job to take care of it so they show up.”

“Does one of them call me baby?” Pomme whispered.

“Yes. I do.” They are fighting over control again, trying to explain to Pomme how their life goes. This is difficult and hard and the mastermind really wants to be in charge for some reason.

“Are you a stranger now?”

“Kind of. Your mom is still here too. We’re trying to share right now. We go back and forth. Sometimes, I think it’s your mom. Sometimes it’s the other. We are trying.”

Pomme stared for a moment, like she was studying them. “Is that why you feel strange sometimes? Because sometimes you are someone else?” She ran her fingers over their cheeks and they are some sort of strange amalgamation of Baghera and the mastermind and it’s not quite right yet. “And that’s why you call me baby. You’re not my mom sometimes, you’re someone else. So of course you wouldn’t know that my mom doesn’t call me baby.”

“You are right. Sometimes we are someone other than your mom. And I tried so hard to help you when you needed it, but I’m not really good with kids.”

Baghera has had to sit back. To let the mastermind respond for them. But the mastermind, despite Baghera’s history with them, is being gentle. Kind. Something Baghera isn’t used to them being. But maybe, just maybe, they can start now.

“But you’re trying,” Pomme whispered. “I think that is better than anything. You’re trying to help me. Do you have a name?” Baghera fell further back in the headspace, backing further and further away from the control from the front. It always felt so soft back there, easy to float and let go. Like the white room from Purgatory.

“I don’t have a name,” The mastermind answered. “I did, a long time ago, but I don’t like it. I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

“People change.” Pomme smiled carefully. “That happens. People get better. You don’t have to be that person anymore. You can be anyone you want. Do you want a name?”

“I would love a name.” I have her. You can rest. It stressed you out really badly, but she’s okay now.

I had your help.

No, you had my apathy. Pomme is okay.

By the time Baghera blinked back, she was on the couch, watching a movie with Pomme. Pomme wasn’t paying much attention to her, staring at the moving colors on the screen and curled up in a blanket by her. Those pearls sat in a bag next to her side, but Pomme’s hair was pulled back in a bun with braids down the sides of her head, and it looked nearly nighttime by now.

“What movie are we watching?” Baghera asked before she could stop it. Pomme tilted her head over and smiled.

“Mulan. I asked if we could watch a princess movie but I’m not allowed to watch Tangled and we watched Encanto before that.” Pomme glanced over at the screen again at some sort of action going on. “We saved the pearls to make bracelets so that I could make them with you.”

“Oh, thank you,” Baghera said slowly. She brushed a few stray hairs from her face and rested her chin on her knees. “I would love to make bracelets with you.” There was still some lingering feeling of not belonging, but it was beginning to settle as she spent more time realizing where she was. “Did you… are you okay?”

“Mhm.” Pomme turned in her seat, facing Baghera on the couch. “Sometimes you’re my mom. Sometimes you’re someone else. Lola said that the Feds hurt you when you were little and then they showed up to do their job. Tio Roier said that your brain made different people to keep you alive because you didn’t think you could live like that anymore. I think I understand.”

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Baghera said. “It’s okay if you’re confused or worried. I still have a hard time with it too.”

“It makes sense,” Pomme shrugged. “Sometimes when I’m scared and don’t know what to do, I think about being Chayanne instead. It’s kinda the same thing, yeah? You were scared, so you became someone else.” She pulled her blanket back up around her. “Do you guys have the same favorite color?”

Baghera laughed softly. “I don’t know. I never asked. Who is Lola?”

“Lola was here!” Pomme smiled again. “They explained everything to me. They don’t have a name so I gave them one. I named them Lola. They told me everything.”

Lola. Someone who was here. Baghera reached as far back as she could to recall what exactly had happened when Pomme got here. She remembered when Pomme showed up. She remembered Pomme crying. She remembered… not a lot after that. Lola… the mastermind? The mastermind is the only one Baghera can think of.

The mastermind was helpful? For once. Baghera will take it.

“Are you okay?” Baghera repeated again. She opened her arms and Pomme rushed over, throwing herself in Baghera’s arms. She snuggled against her chest, eyes wide awake and focused on her movie.

“Mhm. I’m okay. It makes more sense why you would act so strange now,” Pomme answered honestly. “I’m okay. I’m okay now.” She rested her head on Baghera’s heart and kissed the arm that wrapped around her.

“It’s okay if it’s still hard for a while,” Baghera promised. She settled against the arm of the couch to adjust them and settle down for a long night of movies. “Or if it’s still hard forever.”

“I know. I’m still okay. I got a new tia today.”

There is still a lot that Pomme doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about Sept or about how hard having these strangers in her head are. Baghera was struggling with it every day right now because the mastermind and Baghera just can’t get along. Cellbit’s facade fading on top of it is debilitating. They are barely functioning half the time. Pomme doesn’t need to know all that right now.

But Pomme snuggled against her chest and watched a movie despite everything she learned. That instead of being afraid or bothered and it going badly like Baghera thought it would go, Pomme accepted it and the only question she had was if they had the same favorite colors.

“Maman, after Mulan, can we watch Moana?” Pomme mumbled, dragging her fingers up and down Baghera’s arm absentmindedly.

“Of course, darling,” Baghera replied, kissing the top of her head. “We can watch whatever you want.”

“I love you,” Pomme whispered, her ear against Baghera’s heart. “I’m so glad you’re my mom.”

“I’m so glad you’re my darling,” Baghera whispered back. “I love you too.”