Work Text:
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” My eyes fall on mirrors of my own, nestled in a younger face. It takes another jilted moment to realize my surroundings are hauntingly familiar.
Back in the dollhouse, back in Purgatory, with creepy little Mini-me. Breaths saw in and out of my gaping mouth and my heart hiccups, stutters—
“Calm down, it’s just a dream.” Mini-me is not impressed, pausing her slow motions of brushing a doll’s hair to give me a look. A laugh comes out, mangled and choked. I know that look, kid, I perfected the damn thing.
“Great,” it comes out raw, breathless. “Just what I needed, a trip down memory lane.” And just like that, the pain that had set up shop along my shoulder blades was back. Two hours of yoga and meditation down the drain.
“Are you always this cranky?” Mini-me asks, as if she’s loving my presence just as much as I’m lovin’ hers.
Pacing happens naturally, my body beginning to hum with another round of nervous energy. It’s been more reliable than coffee and Red Bull these days. Only problem is, it leaves you burned out and twitching so hard you blur at the edges.
“Sorry if I’m not more chipper, I’m supposed to be sleeping—you know, minus the dreams.” Looking at the walls of this dollhouse is doing things to my stomach, and goosebumps pop along my skin like a rash.
“We never did dream much,” Mini-me murmurs, pursing her lips as she eyes me stomp from one side of the room to the other. “Not unless there’s something weighing on our minds.”
My eyes jump from the warped fake walls to the windows, with their pastel frames covering a darkness outside I have zero desire to scrutinize. Unbidden, desperate, they go to the younger version of me.
“What are you trying to say?” I sigh, rubbing at my forearms, “Things have been stressful lately.”
A snort. “Yeah I figured that, you look like you’ve aged since I saw you last. Which wasn’t that long ago. What’s changed?”
A laugh tries to work its way out of my mouth, but it sounds more like a gasp. Shaking my head, I grind out, “A lot.”
Katrina and Crane are living together at Corbin’s Cabin. Katrina and Crane are trying to work out the kinks in their relationship, and it’s looking like she’s gonna become a part of the team. Hip hip—
“It’s either Jenny or Crane.”
At my blinking silence, she continues, one eyebrow raised above the other. “I only know two people that can stress you out like this.”
The pacing stops for a few moments. “It’s not Jenny.”
Mini-me nods slowly, making her way to one of the tiny, bright red chairs in the room. She sits the doll on her lap and begins straightening her skirt. “I see.”
“It really isn’t—I’m fine, things are fine. I’m just tired,” throwing her a look I add, “and you aren’t helping.”
Mini-me’s eyes roll so hard it looks like it hurts. “Never could be honest with yourself.” Her glare is swift and hard, sharp. My footsteps fall out of rhythm. “What good is lying gonna do you here?”
My jaw tightens with a click as my teeth grind together briefly. “Fine,” I spit between terse lips, “I’ll play along.”
The nervous energy is gone for now, and my muscles take up their trembling. It’s with a small sliver of grace that I all but collapse into the waiting dollhouse chair.
“Well?” She snaps at my silence. I was never known for being patient.
“I’m glad Crane’s got her back. I’m happy for him, he’s…” my swallow is loud. “He’s earned this. It’s been a long time coming.” There’s no taste of a lie but the words still leave my mouth dry, bitter.
Mini-me tilts her head to one side, before prodding. “But?”
But even though we’ve gotten that demon baby out of Katrina, I don’t think it’s over. But Crane’s losing sight of the mission. But I feel like he won’t make the tough choices with Henry, not with Katrina giving him her google-eyes and her same speech about faith and hope. But despite the fact that they’re together, Crane’s more jittery than I’ve ever seen him, he smiles less, worries more. But despite the fact that we're partners, I feel like he's pulling away--“But it’s not going how I thought it would.”
Mini-me carefully re-ties a bow perched on the doll’s head. “And how did you think things would go?”
Shrugging proves to be very painful, rolling my shoulders to try to dispel the ache, even more so. “I dunno, better? I feel like ever since she’s joined our side, things aren’t easier. If anything, we’re fighting a war on one more front with her being here.”
“So she’s caused you to doubt him?” Mini-me says slowly.
“Y-yes, but only because he won’t be able to make the choices he must, as a Witness.” A sigh tears itself out of my mouth, leaving me sagging back in the uncomfortable chair. “I feel like I’m the only one that’s thinking that the only way we end Moloch’s plan is to stop Henry too.”
“They’re his parents.” She says, not unkindly.
I don’t have the energy to speak louder than a murmur. “I know that. I know they love him. I know they think that he can be saved, but… I think Henry’s too far gone. And I’m not saying we definitely have to kill him—I’m just saying that we need to be prepared for it, if it comes down to it. If his parent's love isn't enough to change his mind.”
“Love is a powerful thing.”
My eyes slide shut, words bubbling out of my mouth like bile. “It can also weaken you, cloud your judgment.”
“It hasn’t with you.”
My body jerks in the chair, eyes blinking wildly while Mini-me just sits there, a small knowing smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are grave.
“What—”
“I think your love for him has made you stronger, yes. But it’s made you human, and that,” her eyes grow wide, like it did back in Purgatory. “That is not a weakness. You’re a Witness, you’re a soldier, yes. But you’re human first.” Standing, she takes the doll and returns her to where the others sit neatly on a small plastic couch.
“You love him. So be his strength, remind him that although he has a bond as a husband and a father, he has a bond with you, too.” Mini-me walks back slowly, smile growing at my wide, round eyes, my shock-still frame.
“He needs you just as much as you need him. He’s not gonna ditch you for his wife, no one’s replacing anybody.” Flopping down in the chair, she lays back languidly, rolling her neck in slow motions.
It’s only after several moments of silence than I’m able to force out, “I-It’s not, I don’t—”
“Yeah. Sure.” She yawns. “When the time comes, he’ll do what's right. Trust him, and trust yourself.”
The dream pops and cracks, fracture patterns spreading along the walls of the room, forming rifts in the floor. It flakes and flies away, and the last thing I see is Mini-me’s small, knowing smile.