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The warmth of her touch. The way she'd smile softly with her eyes. Her laugh, tinkling and royal. He knew everything about her, from the way she liked her coffee before they got stuck here to the cadence of her speech when she was tired.
What he didn't know, though, was how much it would hurt when she was gone.
He only recently found out what that particular pain felt like.
And god, he wished he didn't.
He was alone in his fort, curled into himself with one hand clasped firmly over his mouth. He'd been holding his breath for a while in an attempt to keep himself from sobbing, and as such, his usual golden glow lit up his surroundings.
It should feel familiar here. Comfortable. Comforting.
Instead it just felt empty, without her.
He was shaking. His vision was blurring. It had been doing that a lot recently.
He tried — he really did — to keep himself together. To stay strong, as he knew she might want of him. But it was getting harder and harder the longer he went without her. And he was breaking.
Time passed. He didn't know how long. It could've been hours, it could've been days, it could've been mere minutes. Time was fickle, here.
He only came back to reality at an unexpected touch. An impossible touch, even — everyone was gone. He was the last human. So why, then, was he feeling the warmth of another hand sliding into his?
He looked up, half expecting to see Caine, the other half expecting nothing. What he did see, though, made him tense in a way he hadn't since he first met her, back in the real world.
Because there she was — in all her soft, royal glory, she was back. Her eyes smiled at him and slowly, gently, she pulled their joined hands up so he could see them. His eyes started watering again, and the hand that was clasped over his mouth tightened. This couldn't be real, this couldn't, it wasn't possible-
And then she spoke. "Dear... I'm so sorry..." Her free hand slid up to his face, thumb caressing it gently. "I didn't mean to leave... but once it started- well, I couldn't stop." Her eyes turned sad. "I hope you can forgive me."
This wasn't possible. It wasn't real. But it felt so, so real. With a trembling hand, he reached out, tentatively caressing the wood just under her eyes. It was just like old times. He could almost pretend that what he saw never happened, that she was never lowered into the cellar.
His vision was blurring again, but even so, he could still see her perfectly, from the particular shade of amber her eyes were to the way her red robe positively lit up from the light he was emitting.
Some foreign part of his brain was telling him that this was wrong. That he should stop getting so attached. But he couldn't- especially not if it meant he got even a few more moments with her.
Looking back, he desperately wished he had listened.
Suddenly, he remembered he wasn't breathing. The realization alone made his nonexistent lungs burn — even if logically he knew he didn't need to breath, it didn't make his brain realize it if he was actively thinking about how long he hadn't been breathing for.
With a gasp, he sucked in as much air as he could, immediately cutting off the light shining from his figure. The second he did, though, he wished he hadn't just as much as he wished he hadn't gotten attached.
In the blink of an eye, she was gone. And he was alone once more, stuck caressing the air.
His hand started shaking, and his vision blurred further. "I forgive you, my love..." He knew his words could never reach her where she was suspended in the cellar, but he needed to get them out. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I wasn't better for you..."
And then, he broke.
A sob, quick and miserable, escaped his avatar, and he didn't bother trying to stifle it this time. He let the tears start coming, blinking them away just to be able to keep looking at the space in which she's disappeared. She was gone. Again.
Slowly, he retracted his hands and curled in on himself, becoming little more than a little ball on the floor of his fort. He missed her. He missed her more than words could describe. Without her... he was empty.
More time passed. He didn't dare hold his breath this time for fear of seeing a fleeting image of her again, so he continued to cry.
As it went on, though, his feelings began to change. His tears became bitter, his hands began to shake, and he couldn't help but feel angry. He didn't want to feel angry — especially not to him — but he was.
His anger was directed at his creation. At the ringmaster of the very circus in which he resided. His anger was directed at Caine.
___
Caine was distressed.
In times like these, he liked using big words like that. It made him feel more professional. More in control. Less like the failure he most certainly was.
Sometimes it helped.
This time was not one of them.
Currently, he was curled up in his oversized chair, bawling his eyes out, messing with his color cube with trembling hands. He hadn't wanted to put Queenie in- in- in that place, but she was a danger to Kinger! He'd seen first hand how Scratch ended up when he... Point is, he didn't want to lose her.
And yet, here he was. A Queenie sized hole in his heart cast, and a distraught Kinger on top of it all.
Hence, here he was, sobbing at the loss of what was a mother figure a wonderful addition to his cast. That's all. He wasn't emotionally attached to his cast. He was a good AI. Good AI's didn't have feelings.
Then — why was he crying? How was he crying? Technically speaking, it shouldn't be possible — it most certainly hadn't been coded into him as an emotional response, and even if it had been, he never should have been able to get to that point emotionally where he was crying.
Something in his code, the part of him that still thought they were coming back for him, told him to stop. Immediately. After all, if they were to come back and saw him crying, who knows how much trouble he could be in!
And yet... another part of him, one that was still relatively new, one that missed her desperately, told him that he needed this. That if he didn't get out some of his emotions — no matter if they were originally intended or not — he would explode. Or implode. Or some mix of the two.
But, as minutes passed and he continued to indulge himself in trying to process his feelings, he started to feel guilty. What right did he have to mourn the loss of a human? What right did he have, after likely being the reason she was gone in the first place?
Bubble chose that moment to appear. "Jeez, boss, and I thought you finished working on the Digital Lake!" The orb floated circles around Caine's body, smiling maliciously. "Boy! I already knew you were weak, but crying? Over a human? That's a whole new level!"
Caine hiccupped slightly, wiping water off his jaws. "I- I'm not- just go away-" A hand quickly jutted out, popping the Bubble instantly. Before he could come back and taunt Caine some more, he quickly sat up and wiped excess moisture from his eyes and gums, snapping his fingers to summon a mirror.
Quickly, he made sure his appearance was up to snuff, abandoning his seat for favor of floating in midair. He did a quick little twirl, then checked his Wacky Watch™ — much later than the usual time he announced things, but that was fine, considering it was only Kinger he had to serve. It was just the two of them, now.
Just the two of them. And Kinger probably hated him now...
He quickly shoved that thought from his brain as he prepared to snap himself out of his room, plastering on his ever present grin and then — snap, he was gone. The office was silent once more.
---
Kinger was already waiting for him as he appeared on the stage, and the chess piece's expression... he hadn't seen that expression on his last player, actually. Nonetheless, he sucked in a deep breath and prepared his usual spiel —
"CAINE." He was rather abruptly thrown off his groove by Kinger's surprisingly loud voice. The ringmaster looked down nervously, summoning his cane just to be able to wring it in his hands.
"Caine- I want her back." Kinger's voice cracked, but he pressed on. "I want my wife back- I need her back. It wasn't right of you to- to get rid of her like that! Didn't she mean anything to you?!"
Caine's emotion recognition processors whirred rapidly, trying to keep up with the numerous emotional cues Kinger was giving off. Angry eyebrows. Shaking hands, balled into fists. Posture bent. Shoulders shaking. Eyes... watering? He seemed to be giving off both anger and sadness, and... that was all too relatable, with the loss of her...
No! He couldn't think like that! He was AI, not a human who had the complete and utter right to mourn one of their own. He had no such right. "Kinger! My darling dragon, I... can't bring her back, actually. When I deliver an abstraction into the cellar... well! Haha! They- physically cannot come back."
It was a feature implemented when he first made the cellar, so that abstractions couldn't escape if something were to ever malfunction. He really regretted that he'd ever even thought of it now, though. He wanted nothing more than to bring her back. Why had he ever lowered her into the abyss, in the first place... how could he have-
Kinger's broken sob broke through his thoughts, and Caine's denture head snapped up, alarmed. The chess piece had tears streaming down his face, and his shoulders were shaking more than ever, and yet he kept on with his tirade. "I- I thought we raised you better than this!" His screech rang through the circus. Wow. That one hurt.
It didn't just stop there, though. "I- I worked on your foundational code- I implemented your- your core feelings! Was that for nothing, if you seem to be able to ignore her absence so easily?!" Tears started running down Caine's eyes and down his gums. He didn't notice. Neither of them did.
"I need her, Caine- I- I can't without her- she was my life, my light..." Kinger sunk to where his knees were to be, if he actually had legs under his robe. "My... my wife... my wonderful, beautiful, funny wife..." Kinger was sobbing now, but Caine could hardly see it. His eyes were blurry- he was lowering to the ground now, his cane clattering on the stage.
He couldn't see. He could hardly breathe. His dentures clicked together as he shook. Tears started dampening his gums further. He missed her. As much as he didn't have a right to, he did, and it was agony.
He curled in on himself subconsciously, wanting a break from the never-ending bright colors and flashy light he'd implemented into the circus.
Kinger was right. Kinger was right. And now, the chess piece hated him. Somehow, that hurt even more than the fact she was gone.
---
Slowly, Kinger looked up, only to find that Caine had curled in on himself, becoming a little ball up on stage. What was this? Another bit? An attempt at sympathy? A-
And then he heard it. A sound just as broken as the ones that had come from him just moments prior. A sob. Abrupt, complete, and horribly heart wrenching. Immediately, guilt, hot and writhing, crashed down on the chess piece. Caine was grieving too. He was just infinitely better at hiding it.
Slowly, Kinger rose, his hands reaching out shakily towards the ringmaster. His creation. How could he have been so cruel? "...C- Caine?" It was a simple word — just his name. But it was the best he could come up with, and in any case, it seemed to work just fine, as nearly immediately, Caine's choked voice drifted from his crumpled form.
"I- d- I didn't want to, K- inger- I'm- I'm- sorry-" Caine's voice, usually so smooth and excited, shivered and glitched on every syllable. "I mi- iss her t- too... s- she was- was- was- so g- good- to both o- of us... I- I'm s- or- ry... P- plea- ase d- don't... hate me..."
Kinger sighed, though it was only barely noticeable. Slowly, he glided towards the stage, pushing himself up on top of it was a soft hup. He lowered himself again, though this time, side-by-side with Caine.
"Caine..." His gloved hands gently moved to the ringmaster's shaking shoulders. He looked so small... it was strange, seeing the usually all-powerful ringmaster mourning the loss of just one human. Considering just who it was, though... he couldn't really be surprised.
Kinger sighed, gently rubbing small circles on Caine's back as he cried, doing his best to be comforting. "Caine... I don't hate you. Please believe me when I say that." More sobs were his only response. "I... was angry. I am angry, but... now I see it shouldn't be you that I'm angry with. You're mourning just as much as I am, and-"
"N- no-!" Caine's head jerked up, and he fixed Kinger with a wild stare. "I- I'm n- ot mourn- mourning! I'm- I'm AI, I d- d- on't get a right t- to mourn-" Kinger's heart broke, and quickly, he spoke over the little AI.
"Caine- no." It was spoken gently, but it still shut the ringmaster up quickly. "Just because you're AI... you still evidently have feelings. While I could never have thought that it was possible... that such an advanced artificial being was even possible... It is. And you're living proof of that." Gently, Kinger cupped Caine's bottom jaw, smiling at him with his eyes. It was a bittersweet smile, but a smile nonetheless. "You're allowed to mourn us. You're allowed to feel. I promise."
Caine didn't move for a long moment. It almost seemed like the ringmaster was buffering, and then with the speed of a lightning bolt, he dove closer to Kinger, wrapping his arms around the chess piece. Kinger let out a soft oof, momentarily surprised, but quickly reciprocated the hug. His gloved hands found themselves on Caine's back, and he sighed softly as Caine cried. He could feel his robe dampening, and his heart broke all over again.
"Caine... You're so brave, you know that? I know this is hard... for both of us... But you- you keep going. You keep on. And that's... well, that's more than even I could do, considering just a few moments ago." He chuckled softly, continuing to comfort the AI.
He was still mad, but now... it wasn't at Caine. It couldn't be at Caine, not now. Not now that he knew Caine was also suffering. Instead, he was just mad the circumstance, and the series of events that had led both of them to this point of utter defeat.
Instead of voicing any of this, he just sighed, settling himself in on the stage, prepared to be the anchor his creation evidently needed right now.
---
Caine had left Kinger quite some time ago. He was quite drained from crying his eyes out, but all in all, he felt better. Much better, considering he now knew Kinger didn't hate him.
Now, though, he was floating just above the abstractions in the cellar, watching them mill around.
It was... surprisingly peaceful down here. None of the abstractions were aggravated. One could even say they were happy. Maybe it was the dark, maybe it just took time. Who knew, really.
He wasn't here to just admire them, though; he was here for a reason. To find her.
It should be relatively easy, considering he could still access their code; just because it was jumbled terribly doesn't mean it was jumbled beyond recognition.
After a quick search, he located her. He directed his eyes to the spot, and lo and behold, there she was, resting regally, watching the rest of the group walk around.
His hands trembled slightly. He knew he didn't deserve to talk to her again. He didn't even deserve to be here, but really, he was too far in to leave at this point. So, despite the little voice in his head begging him to leave, he floated forth, nearing the glitchy mass that was one Queenie.
He noticed the change in her demeanor immediately. A second before she noticed him, she was relaxed, her dozens of eyes half lidded. After, though, her eyes widened and her 'head' raised a bit, watching him carefully as he floated near. He summoned his cane, using it to fidget with. Was it hot in here, or just him? Just him? Okay...
As he found himself just in front of the abstraction, he cleared his throat awkwardly. Despite not having a throat. "Q- Queenie..." Her eyes were almost boring holes into his very being, while his own darted anywhere but her form.
"I... I came to- to apologize... I never- I really- I just-" He huffed softly, feeling an all too familiar prick at the back of his eyes. Keep it together, Caine...
Before he could say more, though, she started clicking and stood carefully. His eyes widened — was she going to leave? So soon after he'd come down here, without even giving him a chance to apologize? He had to speak, he had to get it out if that was the case- He couldn't live with himself if he didn't, he needed to-
His thoughts calmed abruptly as Queenie moved forward, pushing her head gently into Caine's form. "I- I-" Queenie pulled back, looking at him with her many eyes. She didn't... look mad. Or even upset. If anything, maybe a bit sad, but really, she looked... understanding.
Slowly, he drifted closer to the ground, his eyes staying on the abstraction the whole time. How? How could she not be angry at him? He'd put her down here, he'd... he'd caused all of this in the first place...
And then, just as he touched ground, she lowered herself to her knees again. He must have missed something in the next few moments, as suddenly, he was being pulled closer, and then he was seated in the little gap between her front legs and her chest. He looked up, half expecting to see some sort of malicious intent in her eyes, but instead, he only found a gentle kind of... well, love was the best way he could put it.
Suddenly, everything in his head calmed. The processes usually whirring to and fro slowed, his never ending thoughts lessened dramatically in intensity, and a soft, almost contented sigh escaped him. He leaned carefully against Queenie's leg, and she clicked happily, her large form relaxing just as he did.
"I... I'm sorry. I never meant for you... or anyone, really, to become... this." He sighed, the sound coming out almost as tired as he felt. "I... I wish you were still- you... Kinger misses you, you know... and- and I miss you... I'm sorry... It's my fault, I know I- I know I don't have a right to miss you, but, I just..."
He trailed off as Queenie clicked again, the sound coming out like a gentle reprimand. Slowly, her head lowered to look at him, eyes blinking out of unison. He sighed, not knowing how, but knowing she didn't like him talking like that.
Slowly, he nodded, and she raised her head again, chirping happily again. With a soft chuckle, he leaned against her leg fully, drawing his legs to his chest and humming contentedly. "Thanks... Mom." The word was foreign on his tongue, and he half expected her to get up and leave at hearing it, but instead, she just relaxed further, her jagged edges becoming even smoother than before. She chirped slowly, the sound undoubtedly pleased.
A warm, fuzzy feeling spread slowly from his chest to the rest of his core. He hummed again, and closed his eyes softly. Maybe she wasn't the same, maybe she never would be the same, and while that still hurt... he was glad she didn't hate him. He was glad neither of them did.
With that thought in mind and the fuzzy feeling to keep him warm, he slowly drifted off, calmed by a mother's embrace.