Chapter Text
The year is 2008. Four real-estate agents walk into a building they plan to sell. By the time they've reached the computer, they've already explored most of the building. It's a nice, normal space, though perhaps a bit dusty from its recent abandonment. The headset is the first strange thing they see. Unaware of the danger, one agent dares his youngest coworker to put it on. Though she's hesitant, she agrees. The woman lifts it past her eyes, adjusts it to her head, and promptly faints into his arms. The three remaining agents all stare at her lifeless body in shock.
Once they recover from their surprise, they call 911.
The year is 2017. Annabelle Andrea Keven has been in a coma for nine years. November has just started, so a nurse comes into her room to add a paper Santa onto the door when she sees her patient twitch. An involuntary muscle movement, the nurse assumes, but then the woman sits up with a gasp and grabs her face so the nurse runs towards her.
"It's alright," Andy says. "I'm fine, thank you. But, um. Can you help me get this headset off?"
The nurse calls a doctor.
Once the headset is off, they run tests on her. It's not as though it's a complete miracle she's woken up—her body has been fine this whole time—they just don't know why she's chosen now to become conscious. Or why the headset had been so easily removable now, considering they'd spent a great deal of time trying to get it off her at the start. Andy offers a tight smile when the question is brought up, but says nothing, because she knows how hard it is to believe "I was trapped in a virtual reality" as an answer. Thankfully, no one expects her to have any clue what happened to her.
They tell her her mother has already been informed about her waking up, because she's the one who's been paying her hospital bills. They ask her if she'd like them to tell anyone else. Andy says she's fine and thanks them politely.
When her mother finally arrives—which takes a few days, of course, because since when has Andy ever been her priority?—Andy doesn't feel like herself. There's a deep well of sadness in her that confuses her, because she's just woken up, and she thinks she should be grateful for the small miracle of consciousness but mostly she just feels… bad.
Her fingers itch. She wants to do something with her hands, but she has no idea where any of her knitting supplies might have gone in the years she's been gone, and her body is still sluggish from the coma. She's sure if she did have anything with her, she'd end up making the world's worst scarf and that thought makes her want to burst into tears.
"They couldn't find anything wrong with you, you know," is the first thing her mother says to her. That's not technically true—something about her brain waves had been amiss, a doctor told her it had seemed more like she was dreaming than an actual coma, though she hadn't been given detailed explanation on the difference between the two—but Andy doesn't argue. Mother says this like an accusation, as if it's Andy's fault, and spending so long in bed was something she had done to spite her. "Don't expect me to coddle you when you get home. You're a grown woman. You can't live off of me forever."
"Yes, Mother," Andy says. The staff had massaged her muscles while she was unconscious to prevent atrophy. They'd helped her do stretches, too, apparently. Andy knows this means her mother will expect her to be fine once they discharge her from the hospital. She's sure it'll be a lot of work, forcing her body to pretend it's still healthy, but it's better than the alternative. Mother's idea of caring for the sick has always been more stress than the illness itself. "Thank you for paying my hospital bills."
She's not sure if she should offer to pay Mother back or not. Andy expects if she does, Mother will take offense at the idea of being paid to take care of her own child, but Andy's sure Mother will lord it over her nevertheless.
Some small part of her almost finds it funny. She's just woken up, and it already feels like she's trying not to step on glass.
"Hmm." Mother grunts. "I need to talk to your nurse. She did a terrible job caring for your hair."
That small comment brings tears to Andy's eyes. She blinks them back down.
Don't cry, she tells herself. You know better than to cry in front of her.
"But that was so mean!" A voice inside her head wails and Andy blinks a few more times as the realization dawns on her that the voice is not her own.
That's right. She hasn't been Andy for years. All her friends know her as Ragatha now.
"I'm sorry," Ragatha thinks at Gangle. "I'm sure this isn't exactly the warm welcome you were hoping for, huh?"
After Caine's death, Kinger had done his best to fix up the circus. He had spent many long, sleepless nights trying to patch the holes in their reality enough to make it livable. Eventually, he brought them together to deliver the news.
"I think," Kinger said. "The circus might be deleting itself."
"So that's it, then?" Jax crossed his arms. "We're done for."
"We can't give up yet!" Pomni cried, even though Jax hadn't seemed particularly sad about that fact. Tired, maybe, but not sad. "Isn't there another way?"
"The only other way would be to leave," Kinger said gently. "And I'm afraid even I don't know how to do that."
Then he looked out at nothing, eyes suddenly unfocused. For a moment, Ragatha worried he'd lost his sanity and he'd be no more help saving any of them, but then Kinger looked at her.
"Ragatha," he said. "When you entered the circus… was someone with you?"
"Me?" Ragatha blinked as everyone turned to her. "Gosh, it's been such a long time, I'd completely forgot about it—but I think I was with my coworkers. We couldn't make heads or tails of that computer and how it survived so long so we thought one of us should put on the headset to see why it was still running and, well…"
Ragatha flapped a hand.
"Here I am."
Kinger nodded.
"The headsets we built weren't… meant for a two-way trip," he said.
"You mean, we're dead," Jax said. "That's why we've been stuck here. No need to sugarcoat it."
"Jax," Zooble warned.
"Scratch had no reason to want to return to his body," Kinger said carefully. "So he never made it a priority. I didn't realize that meant we had so many flaws in our code until it was too late. But that doesn't mean one of us couldn't have survived. Especially if we were put on life-support."
"Oh," Ragatha said, already sensing what was about to be asked of her.
"Ragatha, I'm sorry," Kinger told her. "But I think you might be our only hope."
Kinger had told them the process wouldn't be perfect. There was tests he had to run first, to pinpoint the location of her body, before sending all of their data over to it. Ragatha had insisted she didn't mind sharing her body, though privately, it terrified her. She imagined Jax speaking to her mother and cringed. But it was still a long shot, Kinger had said. They had no access to the internet, which meant they would need to be connected via bluetooth and the connection wasn't strong. Their data might not transfer over completely. There could be any number of lasting consequences.
"Either we die here, or we die trying to get out." Jax shrugged. He'd been strangely apathetic since Caine had died. Ragatha had expected him to make some comment about how he'd rather come back as Gangle than her or something equally insulting, but the look in his eyes suggested he thought they were doomed either way. "Doesn't matter to me. Just don't expect me to help you code an exit."
"I think… I'd like to try and get out," Pomni said hesitantly. She looked at Ragatha as though she was asking for permission. "It might not be a perfect solution, but I think we'll be able to work something out as long as we're together. As long as… you're okay with it."
"Please," Ragatha said, and found herself surprised by how much she meant it. "I don't—I don't want to get out alone. I can't stand the thought of being the only one left. If I have the chance to help and don't take it, I know I'll always regret it."
Pomni smiled at her and slipped her hand into Ragatha's.
"Chin up, Raggy," Jax told her. "This is what you always wanted, isn't it? A chance to save all of us."
Ragatha frowned. It was hard to work up the energy to argue when his eyes looked so dead. The cruelty in his voice had been more out of habit than anything.
"I don't know how 'saved' I'd feel anyone is if it means making you deal with my mother," she joked. "But if you're all prepared—it's like Pomni says. Whatever happens next, at least we'll still have each other."
Zooble sucked in a deep breath.
"Yeah," they said. "Fuck it. Can't get any more doomed than we are now, right?"
They turned to Gangle, who nodded.
"I don't want to disappear," she said.
It takes Ragatha a bit to get used to living in her body. She thinks a part of it must be the upload process. She's acutely aware that this body is something that her mind has been put back into, instead of something that was housing it all this time. It makes her body feel like a new doll she's been shoved into. It doesn't make sense that she had been born into this flesh. That this was the body that kept her company for her first thirty years. Her mother is right that her hair isn't looking its best. Her curls are flatter and frizzier than she remembers them ever being. It's hard to feel like herself when being Andy had always involved so much focus on presentation. She has none of her own clothes to wear, none of her make-up to give herself the perfect face. She doesn't even have any accessories for her hair, aside from a simple hair tie to pull everything back.
Thinking about the state she's in makes her feel guilty. She's supposed to be better than this.
Talking to the others helps her feel more solid. The confirmation that she's not alone is a relief every time, but her mind is still a mess, and it's hard to separate what thoughts might be their's from her own. She thinks some of her anger at her mother might belong to Jax, but that feels like wishful thinking, and the thought that anyone in her mind might disrespect the woman who raised her gives Ragatha a lump in her throat, so she tries not to dwell on it. Instead, she watches far too much cartoons and uses a notepad from one of the nurses to help collect her thoughts. Sometimes, she fades out of consciousness and when she fades back in, there are equations or drawings on the notebook she doesn't recognize. The idea that one of the others might be taking over when she's unaware comes as a relief at first, but then she realizes that means they'll have conversations she won't be a part of and becomes terrified.
They won't know how to handle her mother like Ragatha does. If she's not awake, she won't be able to keep them safe.
"Give me a break," Jax says. "We survived Caine. You think some old white lady is going to be what does us in?"
Yes. Absolutely.
"If we don't have her, we won't have anyone," Ragatha warns. "Even if you don't like her, we need somewhere to stay. So don't antagonize her. Please."
"I can play nice with authority figures," Jax insists. "I never pissed off Caine, did I?"
"You didn't always go along with him either," Ragatha protests.
"I only broke the rules he expected me to break," Jax says. "He thinks it's flattering for a human to spend so much time thinking about a world he's made."
Ragatha forgets sometimes, how alike they are in that aspect. She finds herself remembering fifth grade and eating lunch in the nurse's office, because all the other boys thought she was weird and strange. Adults were easy to charm and as long as you never complained what the problem was, they wouldn't tell you to man up or force you to sit next to boys who thought you squealed like a girl or—
Ragatha feels Jax pushing her out of his memory like a door slammed in her face.
"Do not," he growls. "Do that again."
"Okay." Ragatha hadn't even known what she'd done. It hadn't been on purpose. "Okay, I'm sorry."
Eventually, they get sent home. Her mother brings her clothes to change into, and make-up, because a plain face might be fine for an invalid, but she's going out into the world now and Mother refuses to let Andy embarrass her by association.
Ragatha drops her mascara wand almost immediately after picking it up.
"Oh," she says. "Oops."
Mother sighs and shakes her head.
"You always were such a clumsy girl," she says, as if the coma and the years in a hospital bed had nothing to do with it. "Fine, give it here. Let me do it before you make a fool of yourself."
Ragatha hands the mascara to Mother wordlessly and lets the other woman grab her face. She knows better than to argue, so she lets herself be Mother's doll.
The hospital staff tells Ragatha not to over-exert herself. It's sweet of them to worry, but Ragatha knows she won't have a choice in the matter, something that's proven true when they get home and Mother tells her Ragatha's in charge of cleaning the horses' stables.
"It's about time you stopped pushing that responsibility on the rest of us." Mother huffs. "They're your animals. I wouldn't have bought them if I knew you were going to abandon them like that."
Pomni wants to scream in rage at that and yell at Mother for treating her own child so coldly, but all Ragatha can feel is grateful that her horses are still around. She hopes after she cleans, she has enough energy to brush them. That had always helped her feel more at home. If she hadn't had them, Ragatha's sure she would have moved further away from home and refused to speak to her mother, like her younger sisters. But even when Ragatha moved into her own apartment, she always visited her mother's property, every weekend. She's been riding since she was a little girl, but sometimes she can't help but wonder if that's why Mother had bought her Butterscotch for her eighteenth birthday.
She wonders if the poor old horse is still alive. Chestnut must be—she'd only been a few years old when Ragatha left. Alfredo had been a bit older, but he's still probably around. Ragatha can't imagine she'll be lucky enough to see all three of them, but when she arrives at the stable's they all seem fine. Some of Butterscotch's fur has gotten paler in her old age, but she's alert enough to whiny when she notices Ragatha. Chestnut stamps her feet to demand to be let out of her stall, and soon Ragatha is being nosed at fondly by all three of them.
"Okay," Ragatha laughs petting Alfredo's mane. "Yes, yes, I missed you, too!"
She'd thought they would have forgotten about her by now. The fact that they all greet her like friends makes her almost want to cry. Now that they know she's alive, she finally feels like she's at home.
The next morning, Ragatha gets a visit from a familiar face. His name is Rory Marshall, and he'd been taking care of her chores in her absence, apparently, though now that she's back, Mother expects Ragatha to go back to work.
Rory and Ragatha hadn't been friends, exactly, but they'd lived in the same town for years and were about the same age, so they had gotten to know each other despite not going to the same school. He'd always been more of her sister's friend than her's. They're close enough that he knows better than to ask her business, but not so close that he knows what she's been up to since high school. The distance between them is a bit of a relief. Talking to someone who knew her as an adult feels like it would be devastating right now.
He seems doubtful that Ragatha will be able to accomplish everything on her own, which is a fair enough worry. She's still tired from mucking out the stables the day before—because of course, Mother had given him the day off the day Ragatha would be coming home.
Still, Ragatha tells him she'll be fine.
"I need to start gaining my strength back, anyway," Ragatha says, waving away his worries. "I'll just think of this as physical therapy!"
Rory frowns at that. Ragatha can tell Pomni agrees that it's ridiculous to push everything on Ragatha so immediately. It's not that they don't have the money, it's just that Mother would see it as a way of her avoiding responsibility. Besides, it's not like feeding chickens takes that much energy. And it's winter. There's nothing to harvest, and Rory's already insulated all the pens for the weather. Mother's request isn't as outrageous as it would have been if she'd woken up in the spring.
"I don't like the thought of leaving the two of you alone like that," Rory says. "Maybe I can talk some sense into your momma."
Ragatha laughs nervously, twisting the fabric of her dress. She doesn't like it when people refer to her mother like that. Like she's being difficult for no reason, and Ragatha's the poor soul forced to go along with it. It's not an entirely inaccurate way of looking at things, but it's not like she's trapped here. She hasn't bought a new phone yet, or looked into getting a new credit card, but she's perfectly capable of calling up one of her sisters and begging they house her while she gets back on her feet. Ragatha hadn't been the kindest to them, the last time they had spoken, but she was sure they'd understand. It would just… be a bit cruel, to leave their mother alone like that. She's in her sixties now. Too old to be taking care of such a big house alone.
"Sounds like she survived just fine without you, though," a voice whispers in the back of her head. Ragatha can't tell if its her own thought, or if it belongs to Jax. She tries to ignore it. Sure, maybe Mother had managed without her, but things still must be better with Ragatha around to help her, right? She's still the oldest daughter. There are things her company brings that can't be replaced by simply hiring another pair of hands around the farm. Ragatha's certain that after a few days together, Mother will realize how much she's missed her.
"I'll take care of the horses," Ragatha tells Rory. "That's the only thing I won't budge on. They were supposed to be mine, and I've left them alone for far too long."
Rory laughs at that.
"Always go to give yourself the hardest part," he says and Ragatha smiles back, wishing he wasn't so right.
Rory manages to convince Mother to let him keep coming by once a month, just to see if there's anything that Ragatha can't handle, like repairs or complicated yard work, neither of which she thinks they'll have to worry about unless a snow storm that takes out the chicken coop or something like that. Ragatha's dealt with that a few times on her own, but she doesn't mind Rory taking that responsibility away from her. Besides, she can already tell that doesn't have the energy she used to and she suspects she'll have to reserve it carefully, if she wants to keep her mother happy. And of course, it's always nice to have company.
Since he's already here, Rory helps Ragatha lead her horses around the property, making idle conversation as they go.
"So how did Jenny and Thea take it when they heard you were back on your feet?" Rory asks.
"Oh…" Ragatha winces. "I haven't told them."
"Haven't told them?" Rory exclaims. "Andy, they're your sisters!"
"And they have their own lives," Ragatha replies sternly. "The three of us… We'd already drifted apart a bit before everything. I'm sure I'll speak to them soon enough, but I don't want them to feel like they need to come rushing over just to check up on me. Especially after they tried so hard to leave this place behind."
Rory shakes his head like he can't believe what she's saying.
"It's kind of you to consider their feelings like that," he says. "But I think they can handle a little time with Diane for you. I mean, you practically raised them."
"You're exaggerating." Ragatha laughs. "I'm only two years older than Jenny. And Thea's only a year younger."
"Still," Rory insists. "They seemed to think you took pretty good care of them."
"Oh, I just helped with their homework a bit here and there." Ragatha waves a hand. "I never did anything special. But—are you—do you still talk to them?"
"They know who I'm working for." Rory shrugs. "I know—they weren't too happy about leaving you in her care after your first accident, but… Well, she'd always given you the best care."
Ragatha's hand travels up towards her face. Right. She'd forgotten how much of an open secret that was. It had been so much easier to avoid conversations about in the circus, when everyone just assumed it was part of her design rather than a reminder of an old injury. The lack of coordination she had after had been so terrible, she had to give up her riding competitions. Mother had been so disappointed about that. Chestnut had been purchased as an attempt to draw her back in. She'd still been going riding with Butterscotch at the time, but hadn't been able to jump the hurdles she used to. Mother had blamed it on the horse's age. Ragatha supposes that must be easier to believe than acknowledging the harm of an injury she caused. Not that she blamed Mother for that! It had been an accident. Ragatha knows that.
"I would have told them about you if I had known you never reached out," Rory adds quickly, likely not wanting to dwell on the past any more than Ragatha did. "I'll give your their numbers if you want to call them yourself."
Ragatha hesitates. She doubts she can convince Rory not to say anything.
"I suppose you might as well tell them," she says. "I just don't want anyone to make a big fuss over me."
"I think a miracle recovery from a coma is worth a little fussing over, don't you?" Rory challenges. Ragatha doesn't know what to say to that.
"Are they… happy?" Ragatha asks instead. "Now that they've left the farm?"
"They're both married now." Rory gives Ragatha a sad smile. "I'm sure they would have invited you if you were around. We don't talk as much as we used to when we were kids, but Jenny's got a little boy now. Four years old, I think. She named him Andrew, but they call him Andy. Just like you."
Ragatha's good eye fills with tears.
"Oh," she says. She clutches her fist a bit tighter around Butterscotch's reins. She supposes that's what you do when you think someone you love is dead. You find a way to keep their name alive. Not that she deserves to be thought of so fondly, even if her sister assumed she'd never open her eyes. "Does Mother know?"
"Jenny hasn't let Diane see him," Rory says. Ragatha nods. She should have expected as much.
Her shoulders sag. She'd love to visit her nephew one day, but even thinking about that feels like a betrayal to her mother. When Jenny and Thea left home together, they'd refused to tell Ragatha where they went, because they didn't want Mother dragging them home. Not that Mother could do that now, of course, but Ragatha expects they'll want to keep the location hidden. Which means if she leaves for Jenny's house, she'll have to lie about where she's going. And Mother's always been able to tell when Ragatha lied to her. Mother had always been able to get Ragatha to confess all of her sins, even ones she hadn't been aware she was committing. If Jenny lets Ragatha in her home at all, Ragatha assumes it'll only be after she's promised never to return to Mother again.
But of course, being asked to choose between them is nothing new.
Suddenly, Ragatha is keenly aware of how much she wants to be out of this situation. She wants to leave so hard that soon, she can feel her legs walking on their own. Her mouth continues to speak, and the words that come out sound like her, but just a little to the left. It's the dialogue of someone who knows her well enough to mimic her, but they haven't perfected the act, yet.
Oh. It's Kinger. Ragatha hadn't known the others could take control like that, but it makes sense. After all, there had been nothing different about the ways they had entered this body. He exists in the same neral pathways as she does now.
"Will you give me your number?" Kinger asks Rory. "I haven't gotten a chance to buy a phone yet, but it'd be nice to have a friend in town."
Rory glances towards Ragatha's house. Mother is still inside. Probably working on her needlepoint or something equally as feminine and respectable as that.
"Of course," he says. "Anything you need, just let me know."
Before they can get their life on track, they'll need a valid ID. It'll be impossible to access her bank accounts without one, so Kinger waits in line with Ragatha at the DMV.
It's nice not to have to do something like this alone, even if Kinger's main contribution is just idle chatter. He explains to her the merits of using parasitic wasps as pest control on crops while they wait in line, and the entire conversation relaxes her so much than when she gets up to the front the first thing out of her mouth is, "Hello, my name is Andrea. I've been in a coma for nine years and I need a new ID."
The woman who helps her is very understandable to her plight, and promises to get the whole thing expedited so she can get the rest of her affairs in order quickly. It's a relief to here. Mother is taking care of all of Ragatha's food and housing needs, but she refuses to buy Ragatha a phone, insisting that Ragatha has no one she needs to talk to, anyway. Ragatha reminds Mother that she'll need a phone for work, but Mother says that with such a large gap in her work, it'll be a miracle if anyone hires her, especially so soon. It hurts a bit, but it's not entirely untrue, so Ragatha doesn't think to argue, even though her words annoy Zooble.
Zooble says that finding a job can be difficult for anyone, and that what really matters is to find a place you want to work for. If it's a good job, they'll want you to work for them, too. Ragatha's not sure if she's that passionate about real estate, but Zooble reminds her that it's never too late to try something new. She'd have to take an exam again to get her real estate license back, anyway. If there's something else that calls to her, now would be the chance to do it.
The trouble is, of course, that Ragatha has no idea what other options there are for her. She'd entertained her mother's friends at so many parties and the like that setting up a location for an open house felt like second nature to her. She'd been good at finding the parts of houses her clients would find charming, and people were usually happy to see her. That had seemed a good enough reason to make a career out of it.
She thinks as a child she wanted to be a veterinarian. She'd always loved being around animals and she'd gotten plenty of practice taking care of them over the years, but she can't forget she's almost forty. Far too old for her to consider college now.
"You might end up going back even older if you're too afraid to make a decision like that," Zooble points out wryly. And Ragatha knows. But she doubts she'll be able to find anything nearby, so going to school would mean abandoning Mother and she—well, she wouldn't take care of Butterscotch, for one thing. That's Ragatha's horse, and if Ragatha's awake and conscious, that means it's her job to take care of her. Besides, Ragatha had never been the best with the science side of things, anyway. A dead chicken, she knows how to handle, but giving a dog the proper dosage, well, that's a bit riskier, isn't it? Better she just stay at her farm. That seems safer than letting anyone put their animal's life in her hands.
None of her friends have anything to say about the way she winds herself up like this, but the way they don't respond says plenty on it's own.
They must know there's nothing they can say to her that she hasn't already heard. She knows what she sounds like right now, but she can't help it. After all, this is all she's ever known.
The next thing Ragatha knows, Gangle is brushing Butterscotch's mane. It's a relief to see that someone else has gone about her chores in her absence, though Ragatha's not sure why she left in the first place. Had she been like this before the circus? It's hard to remember. Her mind feels so much more scattered now, like she's not sure how to live in a human body anymore. She can't even tell the difference between herself and the others some of the time, and that terrifies her a little, because the last thing she wants to do is push them out when the only reason she returned to this body was to save them.
Gangle pauses mid-brush.
"What do you mean by that, Ragatha?" she asks. Ragatha feels her heart skip a beat, even though she's not the one using it.
"Oh," she says. "I don't—I don't know."
And Ragatha doesn't. All she knows is that when she thinks of her body, she feels a sense of shame and despair that are so familiar she might as well have been born with it.
Thankfully, Gangle doesn't push.
"I always wanted to ride a horse when I was a kid," she says instead, more than a bit wistful. "It always seemed so magical."
That makes Ragatha want to smile.
"Well, I'm sure Alfredo is bored of being cooped up all day," she says. "Why don't I show you what it's like?"
She takes control of the body carefully, kissing Butterscotch's snout before getting Alfredo's saddle ready. His tail swishes when he sees it.
"I know." Ragatha chuckles. "I think it's high time the two of us went for a run together, don't you, boy?"
There really is nothing like the freedom of feeling the wind through your hair. Alfredo had always been faster than Butterscotch in her prime, and it never stopped being exhilarating to push him to his limit, even if there was nothing she was really training him for. Sometimes, it was enough just to grip the reins tight in her hands and know that her beloved friend would take her anywhere.
As December heads to an end, Mother asks Ragatha to come along to a fundraiser she's been invited to. It's a special event, so Ragatha takes all her dresses out of her closet to see which one will be respectable enough for the occasion. Ordinarily, she'd do this kind of thing in just her bra and pantyhose, but it's hard not to feel a bit shy when she knows the others are around, so she opts for a t-shirt and shorts instead.
Ragatha has been the one to dress them most days, and she'd prefer to keep it that way, though her constant vigilance and refusal to let the others take charge is getting a bit exhausting. It's unfortunate, but there's nothing that can be done. After all, it's not like Jax will know what Mother thinks is appropriate to wear. He hasn't even taken control of the body yet. Ragatha's not sure he's been present for any conversation with her mother. He insists that he doesn't have any interest in being seen as a girl, but Ragatha can't help but wonder if her own hesitation has made him take a step back. That would be shockingly thoughtful, which makes her certain there must be another reason she that hasn't occurred to her yet.
When she's alone, he's still the same troublemaker he always is, though. As she examines her dresses, he tries to convince her to wear a suit instead.
"Absolutely not," Ragatha says firmly.
"What?" Jax challenges. "Scared your mom's gonna call you a lesbian?"
"She'd call me a much worse word than that," Ragatha replies, then pauses in the middle of putting her purple dress back on its hanger. "Not that you care, but there are consequences to actions like that."
It takes a moment for Jax to answer. When he does, there's an intentional distance between them, like he's talking through a closed door.
"My parents," Jax says. "Gave up on making me wear a suit anywhere ages ago."
He says it so much like a brag Ragatha can't help but laugh.
"Well, I'd like to still be in the will," Ragatha tells him. "So I'm trying not to be too difficult."
She's sure she'll be in Mother's will no matter what she does, honestly. Even if Ragatha's actions drive Mother to kick her out, she'd simply make sure all the documents said to give the house to her "most ungrateful child." Nevermind that Ragatha was the only one who ever joined her for events like these. Jenny and Thea were always so uncomfortable that Ragatha had offered herself up in their place. After all, there was no reason for all three of them to be miserable.
"Forget about the will, if she cuts you off just steal shit from the house," Jax says. "You could probably find a ring that costs more than I'd ever make in my entire life."
"We're not that well off," Ragatha insists, but she puts on one of her more expensive pairs of earrings, just in case. It's important to have an exit plan, Jax says. She finds it hard to disagree with that.
Anyway, she doesn't want to wear black, because Mother will say it makes her look like she's going to a funeral. Gray is out for a similar reason. Red is too provocative, though she might be able to get away with it depending on the shade, or the pattern. Pink might be better, but it might come across as a bit childish. Blue would be safer, but after wearing the same dress for almost a decade, she's admittedly a bit tired of it.
"It's so much work being a girl," Jax says. "No wonder you're miserable all of the time."
"I'm not miserable," Ragatha protests, but Jax doesn't believe her.
"Hey, I'm not judging! Well, not right now," he says. "If it makes you feel better, being a guy's not much better."
"If I was a man, I could put on a suit and be done with it," Ragatha grumbles. Once she's dressed, she still has to do her make-up and nails and curl her hair. Not that she wants to be a man or anything like that, but sometimes she wishes the price wasn't so high to be taken seriously. But if being a woman was easy, everyone would be doing it! Even Jax agrees with her about that, though Ragatha gets the sense Zooble might have a slightly different opinion.
"Makes you almost miss the circus," Jax says, which makes Ragatha feel… something she can't quite place. She's not sure if the emotion is even coming from her or Jax.
"Well," Ragatha says. "At least my mother has to die sometime."
Instantly, she feels like a terrible person for thinking this, but it's the first joke she's made in years that has actually made Jax laugh, and she's weirdly proud of that, as horrible as it is.
"Guess that's one way of looking at it," Jax says. "If you can out last Caine, this should be a piece of cake. You're like the cockroach of ragdolls!"
What a lovely compliment. Ragatha grimaces.
"Of course, if you're still worried, I could take your place," Jax offers, with intentional casualness. Ragatha frowns.
"All it is is greeting people and complimenting them for being charitable with their wealth to spend it on a cause," she says. "What part of that interests you?"
Ragatha can feel Jax's mood drop.
"Yeah," he says. "You're right. Fancy stuff like that isn't my speed. There's no reason for me to want to get dressed up like that."
Ragatha feels like she's staring at a puzzle that's missing a single piece and still struggling to finish the picture.
"I can teach you how to do my hair if you'd like?" she offers, slipping on a green dress. "Just in case you need to look presentable and I'm not there."
The blackouts she's been experiencing seem to be a permanent part of her life now. She suspects her own cowardice must be to blame, somehow. Jenny and Thea had escaped Mother by leaving. Ragatha had to find her own solution.
"How hard can it be to curl hair?" Jax asks.
"Why don't you find out?" Ragatha replies.
Jax takes over with some hesitation. She feels him moving her fingers, then hands, until finally he curls her toes. He blinks, then makes his way to her bathroom, walking with an awkwardness she's never associated with Jax before.
"I suppose my center of balance is different than your's was," Ragatha notes.
"Don't brag about your boob size. Ugh."
"That's not what I meant!" Ragatha protests. "Oh, the curler should be in first drawer."
Jax is uncharacteristically quiet as Ragatha couches him through the steps. He takes it more seriously than she expected, too. There's no digs at her for being vain, no scoffing at the amount of products involved in any part of Ragatha's routine. He just… listens.
When he's done, he examines his work in front of the mirror. He places a hand on her cheek, almost coquettishly, and Ragatha's good eye goes a bit watery.
Suddenly, Ragatha is back in her body. She wants to cry, but doesn't understand why.
"… Jax?" Ragatha calls hesitantly, but there's no answer. Somehow, this comes as no surprise. Despite how much has changed, it's still always been best to confront Mother alone.
When Ragatha was a child, her mother used to put on house parties almost every month. Sometimes, Mother would let Ragatha and her sisters stay inside the house with instructions to keep far away from the guests. Those had always been the most fun. The three girls would spend their time in Ragatha's room, playing with dolls or reading books. Sometimes, they would even build a fort out of Ragatha's blankets—though they always made sure to dismantle it before Mother had a chance to see. It had always felt a bit magical every time Ragatha closed her door for the day, knowing they wouldn't be bothered. It felt like Ragatha and her sisters were the only three people in the whole world. They were the queens of their own universe, and as queens, they could do whatever they wanted.
Other times, Mother would have them entertain guests. Ragatha would always be tasked with keeping her sisters in line, because if they misbehaved, it would be a mark against her as well. Those were less fun. But Mother just wanted to show off how amazing her daughters were, so of course Ragatha could tolerate a bit of discomfort to see her mother bragging about her accomplishments. And she always made sure to have done a lot, so Ragatha would have lots of interesting things to say to the adults around her that would make them all praise her.
As an adult, going out with Mother felt more or less the same. Ragatha had never grown out of being an extension of Mother's own accomplishments, a fact that is made a bit more awkward because for the first time in her memory, Ragatha has nothing to say.
People know she's been sick, of course. These are her mother's friends. They know her well enough to note her absence, and several of them congratulate her on her clean bill of health. It's kind of them, but the conversation immediately gets awkward when they ask what her plans are now.
Zooble's told her that they'll send out a resume to any job she wants. They say they have the most practice switching careers out of all of them, and they're good at interviews, so they think they can manage getting Ragatha hired, if they really try. It's an offer Ragatha wishes she can take them up on because she… just doesn't know. Real estate feels so unimportant now. It's hard for her to remember the energy she had for her field now that she has a whole mind full of friends she has to protect from Mother. Besides, Mother would be offended if she went back to work too quickly. It would look like Ragatha didn't appreciate her hospitality! She doesn't want her mother to think she's trying to get away from her or anything like that. After all, Mother had been so distraught when Thea and Jenny left, it had taken Ragatha weeks to calm her down!
Ragatha thinks it might be nice to start teaching riding lessons. Maybe softball, too. But both seem hard to justify even in her own mind. She knows Mother would scoff at the idea of her spending so much time with other people's children when she hasn't had any of her own. A few of Mother's friends bring up the fact she's single, too, some more kindly than others. She's told that she's at a disadvantage on getting to know men because of her coma and is given the offer to be set up with someone's son more than once. She tries to politely refuse all of them.
None of them know she's a lesbian. If she's lucky, Ragatha will take that to her grave. Or her mother's. Ha. Jax would probably find that one funny.
Ragatha must have done something to upset him. The others would insist it's not her fault, that Jax has always been moody and uninterested in connection, but he had reached out to her! She'd always expected that if she stopped talking to Jax, he wouldn't make an effort to reach out and bridge the gap. And that was fine, sometimes. She understands they're different people. And especially after—Well. She knows they grieve differently, too.
But he had wanted something from her. Ragatha could feel it. And after the button—after Caine—Ragatha had been half-convinced that Jax would never show her any emotion but apathy. He never used the body because he was content to let himself be dragged along while the rest of them experienced life. If Jax had thought they'd agree to leave him in the circus, he probably wouldn't even be in her body now at all.
But he had asked to be here with her. He had wanted her to teach him how to make them beautiful. Ragatha doesn't know what to make of that.
A good friend would try and find more ways to coax him out. She'd find excuses to get dressed up so he could experience life with her and start to feel more comfortable about the new way they're living. Except, Ragatha's not sure she wants Jax comfortable in her body. If Jax is comfortable in her body, that means getting comfortable in her life, and maybe Jax never antagonized Caine like Zooble had, but his habit of raging against his restraints would be a horrible match for Mother and her rules.
Still, she wishes he was here with her. She wants to know what insults he'd have for the people she's surrounded with and what ways he'd want to make mischief that she absolutely would not allow, but she knows if she doesn't put the thought out of her head now, her mind will do something stupid, like let him take over while robbing her of her consciousness.
Ragatha might be a little afraid of what he'll do, if she's not there to hold him back. Which isn't even a new feeling, really.
Maybe she does want the circus back, just a bit. Things were simpler there.
Mother wins an action for a painting Ragatha thinks she might hate. As the staff set up the next piece, one of Mother's friends suggests Ragatha work as a secretary for his son's law practice. Mother clicks her tongue.
"That's more of a job for a younger woman, isn't it?" she says. "Then again, I suppose in terms of experience, you're about the same. The only difference is how much make-up you'll be putting on."
Ragatha thanks the man for considering her and excuses herself to the bathroom. When she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, with her painted face and not a hair out of place, she gets a sudden desire to wash her mascara off. What was she thinking, acting like she could get dressed up like one of them and pretend to be a human being? Her body feels so heavy now that it's made up of muscles and bone instead of stuffing, and Ragatha can't help but feel that it's a reminder that this isn't how she's meant to be.
"You look so stupid," she tells her reflection. Ragatha takes a deep breath, and tries to smile in the mirror, but it feels fake. She's not the smartly dressed business-woman she used to be. She's not the woman who could find something kind to say about any house, no matter how broken or run down. All she is is a doll that's finally been taken off a shelf one last time before its owner gets too old to play.
Ragatha doesn't want to be here.
"Hey." Zooble's steady voice comes as an instant relief. "It's okay. I know how to entertain annoying rich people. You should take a break."
Only a terrible friend would leave someone alone with Mother. But Ragatha's too tired to argue.
"Okay," she says. Her voice sounds far too meek. "Thank you."
Zooble doesn't walk exactly like Ragatha does. Their posture isn't usually as lady-like as Mother likes, so they have to keep correcting themself every time she frowns, but their calm demeanor clearly wins them favors—except for a moment when they're too casual and Mother interprets it as flirting.
"Is she really like this all the time?" Zooble asks. "How did you live through this?"
"She just wants to make sure everyone sees me at my best," Ragatha says, because it sounds nicer than the only other thing she can think to say which is, "What choice did I have?"
At the end of the day, Mother thanks Ragatha for her company, like she always does.
"It's good to know you haven't forgotten everything I taught you," Mother says, petting Ragatha's hair. "You can be such a darling when you want to, Annabelle. I missed spending time with you."
To Ragatha's surprise, it's Jax, not Zooble, who responds.
"I missed you, too, Mother," Jax says, voice sickeningly sweet. "I promise I'll do my best to keep making you proud."
It sounds more like a parody of Ragatha than an actual attempt to mimic her. Mother, of course, doesn't notice. All she does is smile.