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Kinger loves insects.
He always has, and he hopes, somewhere, that Grant has gone and gotten himself an entomology degree, as he'd always somewhat wanted to.
Kinger ‘smiles’ as he looks all around him. A thousand butterflies, ones he’d managed to make, after quite a lot of time, glow and dance in the moonlight. Kinger himself sits on a bench in this park, drinking his tenth cup of tea. His friends had stayed with him for a nice, long while, probably at least several hours, and they'd laughed and sung and named every individual little butterfly, and Gangle had drawn her favorites, before eventually, one by one, they’d all had to leave for sleep.
That’s alright.
They need it after all. A good night’s rest is far more important than anything else, and he has his company. A pink butterfly lands on his finger, and he holds as perfectly still as he can. Queenie, he thinks, would have loved this room. Hopefully Destiny can enjoy it just as much, with Grant.
What are they both doing right now? They must be busy, that’s for sure!
They'd had two daughters together, he'd read. He wonders what that’s like, how joyful it must be, before he quickly thinks of Ragatha and Pomni, and Gangle and, in a way, Zooble. Actually, maybe he doesn’t have to wonder.
He still would love to meet those two, beautiful girls, and he'll never stop thinking about what they could be like, but he does have his own family to prevent that wondering from becoming a dull ache.
Maybe right now, he thinks, closing his eyes sleepily. They’re all watching the stars. The same way I am.
Even if it’s not the same world, it would still feel the same.
The sweet smell of dewy grass, the air brushing past them as though it wishes for an embrace.
The only difference that he can imagine is that they’d have skin to experience with.
The light of a portal shines through his eyelids, making him jump, though that is not what gets him to open his eyes.
A soft, hesitant voice is what holds that honor.
“K-Kinger?”
“Hey Caine,” Kinger says with a soft laugh. “What a day, huh?”
Caine levitates just a few feet off the ground, his boots nearly gliding against the grass.
“Hah! Yeah!”
Caine gets out the words so anxiously and so awkwardly Kinger immediately knows something is wrong. Perhaps he is here to say another apology, one that is very much needed, even though it is…difficult for Kinger to be angry with Caine. It’s difficult for Kinger to be angry with anyone, he supposes. In the circus, constant anger only makes things worse.
“Wowie!” Caine’s voice is several octaves lower than his usual tone, as though he’s trying to not startle him. “You sure are talented at making these places!”
“Thank you. It doesn’t come naturally to me as it does for you, but it has gotten a-lot easier since you’ve given us the admin panel.”
Kinger claps his hands together and creates a monarch to fly about with its friends. 1001 butterflies, he thinks, proudly.
“Haha, yeah…I’m well, I’m glad it has! For you! And hopefully the others. I like, um, seeing what you all make!’
Caine’s eyes flick anxiously, his arms tightly hugging himself.
“I’m guessing you have something you’d like to talk with me about?” Kinger says it as gently as possible. He always wants people to feel safe talking to him about things. Honestly, making someone feel heard and cared about is the best thing you can do for anyone.
“Well, I–,” Caine’s hands clasp tightly behind his back, his posture stiffening and then drooping repeatedly as he talks. “If it’s alright. I don’t expect you to want to talk to me right now, really! If you’d like to just enjoy the adventure, it's okay!”
Caine is trying, Kinger notes. Trying to not be controlling, trying to not force his presence on others, and trying not to force forgiveness. And sometimes, when you do something wrong and hurt people you love, trying is all you can do.
Kinger smiles again, and scoots over on his bench.
“It’s okay if I sit?” Caine asks hesitantly, inching just a bit closer.
“Of course.”
Caine sits down quite oddly and very slowly, reminding Kinger that it’s likely been a while since the other has genuinely sat down instead of levitating or walking.In another flash of small code, he makes a second cup of tea and hands it to Caine. The fellow needs it, he assumes.
“Thank you."
“You’re welcome.”
Caine takes a drink of his tea, somehow, in the same odd way that Kinger can do it.
“Kinger I–or, sorry, Grant?”
“Kinger is fine. It is my real name here. Grant is out there, living his own life, and I wouldn’t want to take that away from him." Kinger’s voice has no bit of jealousy in it. He’s content here. He supposes he has been for a while.
“Right, of course, that makes sense! Well, Kinger, I um…have a question?” Caine props his elbows on his knees, leaning his jaw into them.
“I see. What would you like to ask?”
Caine stays quiet for a while.
“Huh!” His playful voice is strained and exhausted. “I guess I don’t know how to ask it. Maybe I should leave until I–”
“Take your time Caine,” Kinger says, very lightly patting him on the arm before the AI can get up. “I understand wording things can be very difficult, especially since it’s been a while since you’ve done it. There’s no reason to leave and keep troubling yourself over it.”
“Right! Right….”
Caine stays quiet for a very long time, and Kinger does not probe nor judge him, just stares up at the sky. Important things will come in due time. He has long since learned not to rush them.
“Why did you…” Caine says, finally, twisting the fabric of his coat, his words quiet and his eyes completely distant. Kinger sets his tea down, his attention fully on Caine. The AI takes a sharp, shuddering breath. “Why did you leave me…?”
The words leave the bitter taste of Bile in Kinger's 'mouth'.
“Hm? Do you mean when I deleted you?”
“No, no, of course not!” Caine frantically waves his hands, turning his whole body to face Kinger. “I understand why you did that and I–I appreciate that you didn’t. Do it again.”
“It was an accident the first time I did it, so of course I wouldn't do it again." Kinger says, taking one of Caine’s hands in his own, feeling rather sick at the idea of killing him.
He doesn’t feel guilty now for protecting his friends. However if Caine hadn’t been able to come back, he’d have had a very different feeling about it. He’d never wish to permanently get rid of someone he now understands is both sentient, and capable of change.
“I just meant to put you to sleep, and, well, you were messing with my console and I accidentally–”
“Right. Of course, of course, I understand. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” He gives Caine’s hand one last pat, before pulling away. If Kinger remembers correctly–which he probably doesn’t–Ragatha had started teaching Caine how to properly apologize to people. He feels very proud that Caine is actually doing that.
“Now, if you’d like, you can tell me what you really mean.”
Caine scoots to the other side of the bench, his arms leaning against the handle.
“I–I just don’t understand something. It was...before the circus, a bit after you’d just given me my, well, my purpose.”
Kinger’s eyes widened with a small breath of shock, but he does not interrupt, as much as he wants to.
“You abando–you left me there. Did I…do something wrong?” Caine looks so very heartbroken, his teeth down over half of his eyes, his legs pulled up to his chest.
“You remember that, huh? Kinger says, softly, reaching forward, before hesitating at the flinch he gets in return, and putting his hand back. Caine just nods.
“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping I–I’ve just been wanting to know for so long and…no. No.”
Caine opens his mouth back up fully, blinking rapidly. “Look at that! I’m–I’m ruining your adventure! I’m sorry! I’ll just leave you to your peace and quiet,”
Caine starts to get up, but before he can, Kinger quickly grabs his arm.“No, wait.”
Caine frantically looks around, his eyes flickering and unreadable, and Kinger lets out a sigh, frustrated much more at himself then Caine.
“I do understand if you don’t want to talk about it afterall, I’m sure it’s a very hard thing to speak of. But from the way I see it, I don’t think it’d be very good for you to keep holding it in.”
“I-I-I don’t want to bother you,” Caine stutters out, turning to look directly at Kinger, his body sagging against the air, barely levitating.
“You aren’t,” Kinger assures him, letting go of his hand and gesturing back down. “I’d say you could never bother me, but I guess we both know that’s not true. But I promise, I’d tell you if you were.”
“Right. Thank you. Just. Would you mind…answering?” Caine sits back down, swinging his legs lightly as he stares at his feet. “The question I asked, I mean.”
“I never planned to abandon you, Caine. You were the greatest thing I’d ever created.”
Caine’s breath hitches, his hands digging into his legs as he looks at Kinger with stars in his eyes.
“R-really?”
“I cross my heart. I was so attached to you, even then, I didn’t delete you despite what CnA wanted. We had different versions, of course. But never because we thought you were wrong. We just wanted to improve.”
Science is a bastard, sometimes. He should have stopped there, and never let Scratch create those mind-files, nor let himself quarantine Caine so. But obsessing over the what-if's won't do him any favors.
“We locked you away until we could come back to you. But I never even considered that you could–” Kinger closes his eyes for just a moment, letting out the breath he'd been holding.
“I’m sorry Caine.”
“I’m sorry,” Caine replies, looking away. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill my function, even as simple as it was," His voice starts breaking, his hands gripping at where his heart should be. And all Kinger can see is a broken, wounded child, hurt and in need of comfort. "I failed you, I ruined it. And I’m sorry.”
Kinger stands up, just so he can bend down in front of Caine, letting the two of them be at eye-level as he puts both hands on the AI’s shoulders.
“Caine, you were my greatest achievement; you still are. I wish you would have talked to me about this sooner, but now that I have, I need you to know that I never, not once, saw you as a failure, Caine."
Tears roll down Caine’s bottom teeth before he clamps his mouth tightly closed.
And he collapses, his jaw buried into Kinger’s arms. Kinger knows the feeling well, when relief from such horrible, long-lasting pain comes, it’s so all consuming it’s impossible to ignore. He’d felt that way when Ragatha had arrived. Kinger wraps his arms around him, rubbing his hand against the AI’s back in small, soothing circles.
Caine immediately sobs out quick, frantic apologies for making Kinger comfort him, for ruining the adventure, for making everything about himself again.
“Caine, just because you did something, well, honestly horrible, doesn’t mean you can never be comforted again.”
Caine’s mouth opens just a tiny bit, to stare at Kinger with something that looks like adoration in his eyes. He gently takes his robe off and wraps it around the trembling Caine.
“The others will take time to forgive you, and that’s alright as well. But if you ever need someone to talk to, just come to me, alright? I’m very proud of you for opening up.”
Caine wipes his eye with his hand, sitting straighter at the bench, and thus, Kinger sits back down next to him, one hand still on his shoulder.
“Thank you. I really, really appreciate that." There's a brief pause, as Caine wraps the robe around himself tighter. Kinger has to prevent himself from chuckling at how big it is on the poor AI. "Is it-is it alright if I stay here? What you made it…really is beautiful, Kinger. You’ve got a gifted hand.”
Kinger hums. “Of course. Stay as long as you’d like. I’d never mind more company.”
As the two watch the stars and the butterflies play, Kinger corrects his previous thought. It seems like he knows what it's like to have a son as well.