Archive of Our Own

Jax knew he appeared to be a violent person. He’d always imagined this role to be a part of his charm—an important facet to his ability to find ways to control others.

He enjoyed that control, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Very few things in the circus entertained him, seeing as everything was digital, therefore lacking a certain adrenaline which came with reality. There was only one real thing left to manipulate: the emotions of his fellow prisoners. He loved to see people’s reactions shutter at his words. He enjoyed pulling at their strings until they snapped. There was no gratification quite like watching somebody shut down and shut away from him once he was finished playing with them, discarding them like a wind-up toy which had slowed to a stop.

There was no harm in it. He was the funny one, after all. He didn’t need to cry over every little trouble like Gangle, mope around all day like Zooble, or fret about other’s opinions of him the way Ragatha did—

Ragatha.

Normally, he wouldn’t take what she said seriously. After all, she was the nice one. She never meant anything she said. Everything she did was calculated and phony, appealing to the thoughts and feelings of others. He, in fact, considered her the most amusing person to ruffle. Sure, Gangle was very quick to react, which was funny for a moment, but watching Ragatha’s performance slip until she broke was far more fulfilling.

Usually, that breaking point entailed some poorly-constructed insults or stomping away. Not…this.

“Getting close with Pomni… to corrupt her!” 

Ragatha’s words were clumsy at best and idiotic at worst. He never should’ve allowed them to touch him. He should’ve laughed them off and forgotten about them after five minutes.

Instead, he unloaded every bullet in his gun until she was well beyond the loser of their stupid game. 

He didn’t know why he was taking it so personally, didn’t know why the words kept replaying in his mind as he laid in bed on his side, eyes wide, unblinking, and trained on the wall. His fingers fiddled with the edge of a polaroid on his wall.

He wasn’t going to corrupt Pomni. What was he, a vampire? When had his actions truly affected anybody here? It wasn’t like people were banging on his door demanding payback for his crimes.

Corruption. Tch. What a joke.

Jax hadn’t realized how his hand tensed around the polaroid until it ripped from the flimsy piece of tape holding it there—holding it away from him. 

He swore under his breath, then rolled his eyes at the censor. He’d never get used to that damn noise.

He held the polaroid away from himself, not daring to catch it in his line of vision as he rolled over, fumbling around in his nightstand for a new piece of tape. Those polaroids were Jax’s own personal punishment he’d implemented for himself—memories he turned over once they soured. 

Once, they’d all faced him, but now each of them turned toward the wall. Those photos were his half-hearted memorial to the abstracted. Jax turned back to the polaroid, prepared to stick it back without reliving any memories, yet his gaze, unfortunately, snagged on the photograph.

Four familiar figures stared back at him from beneath faded gloss. In it, Kaufmo was grinning widely for the camera while stuffing a funnel cake into his mouth. Ribbit was batting her webbed hands at Kaufmo in mock annoyance while smirking over at Jax, who stood beside Ragatha. She was smiling excitedly, holding up a stuffed pony. 

It flooded back to Jax in vivid color: this was taken during one of Caine’s tamer adventures—a carnival with all sorts of games, one of which being a ring toss. Ragatha had been so excited about some stuffed pony you could win from it, but was terrible at throwing the rings.

Jax felt bad and won the horse for her. He remembered how upset she was when Caine deleted the stuffed animal along with the rest of the adventure’s setting.

The memory was gone as soon as it came, leaving only this stupid polaroid with everybody’s stupid smiles. He began pressing the tape to the corners, still fuming over Ragatha’s remark.

He didn’t corrupt people—that was a ridiculous word for it.

He wasn't poisoning people. He wasn't creeping into their rooms at night and replacing their thoughts with worse ones. He wasn't some kind of cartoon supervillain.

And Ragatha wanted to think of him as such! Why? For having a little bit of fun? God, she loved pretending to be some perfect angel. 

She wasn’t an angel. 

She was a fake, awful person. She didn’t care about anybody. All she wanted to do was fix people, remedy them to whatever ridiculously high standards she held them to.

Jax didn’t need fixing. He didn’t corrupt people.

Because if he was corrupting people, he would’ve gotten rid of her first—

Jax’s fingers seized the edges of the polaroid, bunching the sides in fists before wrenching it apart frantically. Before long, the entire photo was torn to shreds. He stuffed the remains under his bed, then stood up, suddenly pacing around his room.

He wouldn’t be judged by Ragatha’s condescending smile. He wouldn’t have her near him at all. He didn’t need her.

Jax was not the sickness she regarded him to be—and she, certainly, was no antidote.

Ragatha couldn’t stop replaying what she’d said in her mind.

“Getting close with Pomni… to corrupt her!” 

She knew that Jax’s influence and control he seemed to gain over people was powerful. Which was why she had tried so, so hard. Every instance she could, she was as nice to Pomni as possible—lended as many hands she could possibly give, offered as many smiles as she had left. 

But Pomni was just so… unresponsive. 

Ragatha knew what Kinger had told her was true—she can’t force anything to happen. A relationship was a two-way street, and her doing all the pushing only tended to drive people away. She knew that, she lived that. 

It didn’t make it any easier, and her mind spiraled anyway. 

It feels like she watches the same thing happen over and over. Ragatha gets close to somebody, really starts to enjoy their presence, then Jax happens. He gets an in with them, usually faster than she ever could, and becomes all buddy-buddy with them. Then, right when she thinks things may be different, Jax pushes them too far. Despite her words, her actions, every single thing she does to try and stop it, it always happens.

Jax somehow finds a way to undo every right she does with three wrongs. 

That was the core of it all—Jax. Within the middle of a venn diagram, at the origin point, however you wanted to say it. It was all linked to him.

Why him? What about him made abstracting the final conclusion in all the relationships he had? Well, most relationships. 

But, surely, Pomni wouldn’t be next. Jax seemed to… well, she didn’t know if Jax really ever liked anyone anymore, but this was the closest thing to it. Ragatha figured he’d want to keep her around, at least for a bit. Surely, he would let her get a few months under her belt. 

She hoped, at least. Jax wasn’t the type of person to be lenient or merciful. Or forgiving. 

Ragatha knew he was going to hold what she’d said against her. He was probably in his room, planning the best way to get her to abstract right now. 

The worst part? She knew he could do it. If anyone had that kind of ammo, it was him. He would bring up her mom, make fun of how hard it was for her to truly connect with people, turn everyone in the circus against her. 

And it wouldn’t be the first time. Antagonizing her, bringing her down, but also—driving people down a road they can’t turn around on. 

Ragatha stared at the ceiling of her room. If it could happen, her stomach would hurt, it would drop from the overwhelming anxiety she got thinking about this. She was worried. Well, Ragatha always worried, but she felt like this was something deeper, something more. 

Maybe it was the fact that if Jax got to Pomni, it would be the third person he changed that Ragatha couldn’t get to in time. It would also be what felt like the millionth abstraction she’d have to watch helplessly. 

Ragatha was suddenly filled with an all-consuming loneliness. 

Whenever a new person arrived, she had hope. It was a possible new friend, someone that would enjoy her company. And, deep down, she hoped they would enjoy her company over Jax’s specifically. Not in a he-doesn’t-deserve-friends way, but a yay-he-won’t-hurt-them way. 

She turned on her side, glancing at her organized bookshelf full of books that had nothing but gibberish and a coding language she didn’t understand. Her gaze finally landed on her piano. 

The memory came calmly, not demanding attention, but still receiving it quickly anyways. Jax, the first time he came into her room, off-handedly implying he knew how to play. Her saying he should show her what he knew. Him just laughing and saying, “In your dreams, Dollface”. 

She missed it. She missed him, before all of this. Before he became what he was now. 

Then, he still had inklings of his now-self, pulling harmless pranks and joking around. But that’s what it was—harmless. Now Jax had this way of infecting people with some kind of sickness, and every single time, Ragatha tried so hard to be the antidote. And every single time, she failed. 

Her friends still died, and Jax never changed. 

How had she let it get to this point? He wasn’t always like this. 

From pretty much the beginning, Jax and Ribbit were practically inseparable. Them and Kaufmo were constantly around each other, always laughing, always choosing one another to pair up with during adventures. 

Then, it all sort of… changed. 

It felt so out of character, so strange. How do two people go from best buds to rarely even looking at each other? 

At first, she didn’t know what to think of it. Had they argued? What did they argue about? She so desperately wanted to know those details—she so desperately wanted to help them. 

Until, she noticed a pattern.

Ribbit would always look to him after Caine said to pair up, Ribbit would always linger beside Jax as if she wanted to talk. 

So it was Jax, then. A one-sided thing? 

It was the first time it had happened, so Ragatha had no clue what to do. If she were honest, she didn’t think much of it. They had little spats all the time. This wasn’t any different! Next week, they’d be all buddy-buddy again, laughing and joking! 

But they weren’t. 

She tried to casually ask him about things, not wanting to pry too much. Like a small, “Why aren’t you teaming with Ribbit today?”, or “Hey, how have you been feeling?”. He always pushed her off, acted like he was fine, like they were fine, so Ragatha dropped it. Sure, she wanted everyone to be happy and be friends, but why get involved in small things that don’t concern her? 

She felt that way, until she watched as a black mass with glowing eyes rampaged across the common area of the circus. 

It was something she never quite got used to. She always felt at least a little shocked every time. And she’d seen it happen many… many times. 

Her first instinct was to look at Jax. She remembered it vividly. 

His pupils were blown wide, the black almost completely eclipsing the yellow. His normal cheshire-like grin was gone. His arms dangled limply at his sides, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. And he just kind of… stared. 

Nobody’s first time seeing an abstracted was easy. 

Especially if it was your best friend.

Ragatha’s heart broke for him. He was probably blaming himself, mentally beating himself up over his friend’s death. 

She stared at him, pity painted on her expression. Then, he looked up at her, and everything about him changed. His eyes went back to normal, his fists clenched. Still no grin. 

She thought he was going to say something, the way his mouth subtly opened and his body began to angle slightly in her direction. 

But then he shut his mouth. 

“Woah! What’s happened here?” Caine’s booming voice fell over them, becoming some sort of almost-distraction. 

“I…” Kaufmo stood further away from her, but Ragatha still saw the deep-rooted hurt in his eyes. 

“We can’t have this!” With a snap of his fingers, the deep cavern Ragatha had come to associate with grief appeared on the floor. “Down ya go!” 

Ribbit—well, what used to be Ribbit—was sent down into the depths of the basement. 

Ragatha looked back to Jax, only to find him already walking away from the scene. 

“Wait—Jax!” She called out, almost chasing him down the hall.

He didn’t stop, but kept walking at his slow pace. 

Ragatha fell into pace beside him. “I know this is hard, but… usually when this happens, we like to hold a funeral in the commons, over near the couches. I know you two were—close, so I thought you’d want to know, and… be there.” 

For the first time, he stopped, and looked over at her. She tried to search his eyes for feeling, for anything that could tell her what he was thinking, but she found nothing. 

“Whatever.” He muttered, before walking off again. 

“Just—be in the commons in an hour!” She yelled after him. 

“Is he okay?” Kaufmo asked, coming up beside Ragatha to watch Jax as well. 

“Honestly… I don’t know. It’s worrying me.” 

“Yeah… look, I didn’t want to bring this up before, but now seems as good a time as ever, but…” He paused, looking from Jax’s still-retreating form to Ragatha, “Jax, he… I think he did something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know why I feel this way. He’s a grieving friend, I know, but deep down, I get this impression that he—I don’t know—did something to them, I—” 

“Kaufmo, you might just be in shock right now, trying to find reasoning behind all this. And I know, trust me I do, but placing the blame on anyone won’t help.” 

“I… okay, yeah. I just need to sleep on it, or… something.” 

“Yeah, see? Take a bit, and we’ll have their funeral, okay?”

“Okay, yeah… thanks, Ragatha.” 

“Of course, Kaufmo.” 

The funeral was a short endeavor, as not many of them wanted to speak. 

Not that Ragatha expected it, but Jax didn’t say a word. He just stared at the floor, then the walls, then the floor again. 

He glanced up at her twice throughout the entire thing, and that was the most his eyes ever moved.

After all the words were said, the four of them all stood around her photo, barely breathing. 

Eventually, Kinger wandered off to his tent, and Kaufmo went off to bed, and it was just them two. 

It had been quiet for a while. She kept sneaking glances at him, trying to gauge him. Maybe she should say something, maybe—

“Well—I’m outta here.” He said it so casually, before walking away with his arms bent behind his head. “See ya.”

Wait, what? She followed. “Jax, wait—” 

He faltered, not stopping entirely, but slowing enough. He looked back at her.

“Hey…” 

“Don’t be afraid to reach out to me.”

Ragatha stood before Jax, wringing her hands. Her face was a mask of hopefulness and cheer, trying to make him feel better. Normally, he would’ve appreciated this. He liked Ragatha. He’d always liked Ragatha. Hell, for a while, he almost…

It didn’t matter. Now, something about her face suddenly seemed calculated…or had it always been that way?

Ribbit was in the cellar, and Ragatha was smiling at Jax. Why was she smiling at him?!

She was trying to rope him into her arms, wasn’t she? She was manipulating him, that was it—trying to find his weakness to use it as leverage, to hold his vulnerability over his head.

He’d never considered Ragatha a manipulator, but he’d never thought Ribbit could be so sensitive, yet here they were: abstracted and in the cellar.

And he probably seemed easy to manipulate, too. Jax had stood silently for the entire funeral, not offering any eulogies for Ribbit. What could he say? It wasn’t as if he had any fond memories with her.

None. None.

And now that Jax thought about it, even when Ribbit was here, Ragatha was always trying to worm her way into the picture. She was always asking Jax about what happened and playing it off as casual, friendly questions. He could see right through her now, saw how much of a phony she’d always been—he could see right through her crocodile tears.

Jax shoved his hands into his pockets, throwing on a grin. “Why would I need to reach out to you?”

Ragatha flinched, and Jax felt all the better for it. Good. He’d learned from his experience with Ribbit that the meaner he was, the quicker he could drive people away who got too close. And Ragatha was trying to get far too close for his liking. “I just thought…like I said—since y’all were close, and all…”

“Close?” Jax laughed, though it sent a prick of conscience through him. Had others truly noticed how close he’d let Ribbit get to him? How they’d seem him as a friend? “Pssh…they were always buggin’ me. Geez, dolly, why’re you always sticking your nose in my business?”

“Oh! Oh, I didn’t mean to pry!” Ragatha threw her hands up, waving them around in worry. “I—I’m sorry, Jax.”

“Sure y’are, Dollface.” Jax rolled his eyes, flexing his hands in his pockets before taking one out to ruffle Ragatha’s hair, sending her bow slightly askew. 

Ragatha reached up to right the position of her bow, rocking on the heels of her feet before offering a small smile. Her fake tears were still there. Why was she playing up this act so much? Everyone knew she was the nice one. It was getting to a point of exaggeration that bordered on obnoxious. 

Ragatha opened her mouth to try again. Jax braced himself. “…Well…see, I know y’all were partnered up a lot. I didn’t hang out with Ribbit as much as you, but I know I’ll really miss her—we all will.” 

She had the nerve to smile again.. “I’m always here to talk. If something…happened, maybe, between you guys, and you need someone to chat with, I’m…here.” She attempted to swing her arm jovially, though it was a weak movement in her grief.

Jax hoped it wasn’t clear how tense he’d become, like a spring coiled to the point of snapping. He didn’t like to hear Ribbit’s name. He didn’t want to hear it ever again.

It made it real. 

It made him guilty.

It made him—

Ragatha had noticed. Her eye was wide as a saucer, so concerned, so damn contrived. He hated her eye. It dawned on Jax that he hated a lot about her. 

It also dawned on him that he was breathing fast, that his hands shook in the pockets of his overalls. He had to get away. He didn’t want anybody seeing him like this. He couldn’t have anybody seeing him like this. 

“Jax,“ Ragatha began, and he saw her hand reach out. It grazed his arm, sending shocks through his body. “Are you okay—?”

Before she could finish, Jax had pushed her off of him. “Don’t touch me!” He hissed as she stumbled back. She nearly fell, but caught herself. Her mouth fell open in shock.

He felt his hatred bubble up further. What, was she so shocked that he wouldn’t fall into her arms and cry? That he wouldn’t pour his heart out, tell her his life story?

No. No. Jax would never do that again. 

He would do what he always did, but this time, before he told her anything. He wouldn’t give up any more pieces of him and then panic and leave.

He’d run before his stupid feelings got the chance.

“I’m sorry—“ Ragatha started, but Jax cut her off. Before he ran, he had to make sure of one thing.

“Don’t bring her up again, okay? I don’t wanna hear their name—ever again.” He rasped, looking around quickly to be sure that no one else heard.

Ragatha tilted her head. “…Ribbit? You don’t want—“

“Promise me!” He snapped, grabbing her by the forearms. He held them harder than he intended to, and a sick part of him hoped that it hurt. He hoped she’d keep her promise if the reminder came with pain. “Promise me—never say their name ever again!”

Ragatha swore, and the censor appeared over her mouth. The shock of the sound loosened Jax’s grip enough for her to rip away, clutching her upper arm. “Don’t do that, Jax.”

“Sorry—sorry, doll, but promise. Please, promise.”

“Why don’t you want to hear her name?”

“Ragatha!” He stepped forward again, voice breaking. “Promise me, please, just—“ he attempted to swear, but the censor appeared as usual, “—ing promise me.”

Ragatha seemed to fight with herself, a hand coming up to her neck, working the fabric of her collar between her forefinger and thumb. “I…I promise.”

Jax nodded, still breathing heavily. He backed away, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He didn’t want her help. He’d never want her help.

He didn’t want her.

Jax, after Ribbit, was reluctant to get involved with anyone. It was glaringly obvious. Every attempt that was made was shot down or flat out ignored. 

Which was why it was weird, for the both of them, when Jax knocked on Ragatha’s door late into the night. Knocked. That detail made both of them hyperaware of the key Jax liked to keep in the pocket of his overalls. 

Ragatha, surprisingly, opened the door before he could even finish knocking. She gave him a once-over, not even attempting to hide the confusion on her face. When she met his eyes, she was raising an eyebrow so high he was sure that it hurt.

Jax cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Hey.”

“Hey…” Ragatha seemed to glance subtly at Jax’s hands, which he shoved behind his back on instinct. He had nothing to hide—not tonight, at least—but Ragatha probably thought he was trying to prank her.

“Yeah…hey—Hey, Could I, uh…come in?”

Ragatha narrowed her eyes up at Jax, and he tried to meet her gaze steadily. It was stupid of him to even come here, and now she was making it more difficult. It wasn’t like Jax had ulterior motives.

“Why do you want to come in?” Ragatha asked.

Jax groaned. “Geez, dolly, didn’t realize you were gonna interrogate me.” 

“I—I mean… it’s not like you’ve been exactly trustworthy.” 

“Me? Not trustworthy? When have I ever given you that idea?”

Ragatha stared blankly at him.

“Okay, fine. Don’t answer that. Can I come in?” 

She sighed, glancing backward into her room before looking back up at him. “Sure. Come on.” 

It had been a while since he was last in her room. The warm atmosphere didn’t change—Ragatha’s room was a place meant for rest, a place meant to let loose and lay yourself bare. 

Which was something Jax had not planned on doing. At all. 

To get that out of his head, he presumptuously dropped himself on her bed, hands behind his head. 

He shut his eyes and grinned. “Wow, Rags, all that kissing up to Caine must be working in your favor. Your bed is miles more comfortable than mine.” 

Ragatha huffed in annoyance. “Is that all you came here for? To mess up my covers and get on my nerves?”

“Oh? Did you think I came in here for something else?” He opens one eye to look at her, grin widening. Looking over boosted his mood.

Her face was slightly flushed, and her eye squeezing shut. She grabbed at her hair, pulling the strands downward. “You’re so—” She groaned. 

He didn’t say anything more, just stared at her. 

After a few seconds of deep breaths, she let go of her hair and finally looked at him. 

“I feel like I’ve been laying here for ages. Are you gonna join me or what?”

“I don’t—We don’t… do that anymore.” 

“Aw, come on, Rags. For old time’s sake? For me?” He blinked up at her innocently. 

Ragatha scoffed. “I’m not doing this for you.” 

She sat awkwardly on the bed, all stiff and reserved. Her gaze avoided him, somehow looking around every inch of the bed where he wasn’t. 

Jax didn’t lose ninety percent of his dignity coming in here to be ignored. 

He reached out, patting the sheets next to him. “Come on. You can do it.” 

She glanced sideways at him, taking in his posture and body language. She sighed before cautiously laying fully on the bed. 

“Almost there.” 

She turned, facing him on her side. “Satisfied?” 

“Perfectly.” 

Now that she was where he’d been wanting her to be, he stalled. What now? He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He hadn’t even thought she’d let him in. 

He came to the sudden realization that he didn’t want to be here. What was he thinking? He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to fall back into old habits. Jax wasn’t the same guy, even if Ragatha was still the same girl. He wasn’t the wimp who fell into Ragatha’s waiting arms whenever his mind got too loud. Not anymore. 

Jax’s hand fisted the blanket he laid on, twitching nervously. He should’ve never come here. He was such an idiot. Now Ragatha probably thought he was some weakling—which he wasn’t. Not anymore.

“You know? I better go.” Jax started, but his voice shook, and he made no effort to get up. 

Ragatha looked at him like he’d suggested taking a tour of the cellar for an afternoon activity. “Oh…but you just—“

“Well, gee, doll, if you want me here so bad, I’ll stay, you don’t gotta act so desperate.” Jax flopped forcefully back to the bed, arms behind his head. 

To his utter dismay, a giggle left Ragatha. His eyes shot open, and he looked over at her. 

“What. What’s funny?”

“Nothing’s funny, I just…”

Jax shot up again. He didn’t like being laughed at—he wasn’t gonna be laughed at again. “Because if you’re going to laugh at me, I’ll go—I’ll just go.”

“Jax, I’m not laughing at you.” Ragatha’s mirthful look disappeared quickly, and she reached out a hand. It hovered awkwardly in the space between them, not quite reaching Jax. “I wouldn’t laugh at you. You know that.”

Jax hesitantly laid back down as Ragatha repositioned herself on the bed, now on her side. Jax had to remind himself not to allow his eyes to sweep over her, keeping them trained on her wall instead. 

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Ragatha asked, voice much gentler than before, as if trying to coax something out of a child. 

Jax tensed. “No. No, not really.”

“Because…if you want to talk about—“

“No!” Jax yelled, shooting up from the bed again. “Sorry—sorry, but no, you—you promised not to bring it up, so don’t bring it up—“

“I’m sorry,” Ragatha grimaced as Jax lowered himself back down, schooling his face back to nonchalance, “I just…interpreted…I’m sorry.”

“‘S fine. ‘S fine…I don’t really care,” Jax muttered, and Ragatha nodded slowly. 

A jolt of anger stabbed through him. Why was she looking at him like that? Like he was some wild animal she was trying to tame? Had she always been this way—so condescending?

Their previous conversation ran through Jax’s head. He’d decided that he didn’t want her. And he was sure this was still true. Looking at her sent a storm of unpleasant feelings through his body. He. Didn’t. Want. Her.

“Jax?” Whispered Ragatha. He hadn’t noticed that she’d reached over to her lamp, dimming the lights. Her eye was so gentle, it almost made Jax feel as if she was being genuine. Almost. 

“Uh huh?” He replied. He didn’t mean to match her tone, but he did anyway, as Jax’s voice came out as a shaky, pathetic whisper. 

Ragatha’s hand reached out, fiddling with the right strap of his overalls, righting it after it slid down his shoulder. “…When I’m alone, I sometimes get scared.”

Jax stiffened. He managed to force a trembling smile onto face and batted her hand away from his shoulder. “I don’t get scared.”

“I never said you did,” Ragatha mused, giving him a smug look. “But if you do, there’s no shame in that. And there’s no shame in reaching out when you’re alone.”

“I like to be alone. In fact, I like my own company more than anybody else’s.”

“You’re being awfully defensive.”

“No, I’m not.” 

Her hand found his shoulder again, and it made Jax feel warmer. He felt like his entire body was on fire, only because her proximity was freaking him out. In a bad way. 

He almost missed the feeling before she ran it down his arm. She laughed quietly, like she didn’t want to break the fragile atmosphere of the moment. “Then what are you being?”

“Realistic.” He tried to hide the sudden but familiar pang in his chest when she looked at him like that—all lidded eyes and gentle smiles.  

She hummed in response, looking away from his face to focus on her hand on his own. 

His gaze followed hers. 

Her plush fingers fiddled with his glove, even though she knew it didn’t come off. They were both very aware of the fact that she knew, and why she knew. Neither opted to address it.

“Do you remember… when we used to do this? Back before?” Her voice was still so hushed, like she might scare him off if she did something too loud or sudden. 

“Yeah. I do.” He wanted it to come off like he didn’t care, like their past together didn’t loom in the back of his mind every single day, but his voice betrayed him, making the words quiet and unsteady. 

“I miss that.” She looked at him, almost expectantly. 

God, how high-and-mighty she was. Trying to drag out his older self, forcing him into a vulnerable position. 

“Jax.” Her voice had an airy tone to it, almost as if she were singing his name. “I promise I’m not trying to make you do anything. I just—I want to forget about everything else for a moment.” 

Jax told himself when he first got to Ragatha’s door that he was only doing this to mess with her, to see how much what he did affected her. But the longer he stayed, the more he knew he just wanted to make sure she was okay. 

“I’m tired, Jax.” 

And she so obviously was not okay. Jax wasn’t stupid. 

Jax took the moment to stare at her, moving his eyes across her face like he’d done so many times before, in this same position. 

He reached out, like he always did. 

The feeling of her hand clutched in his was one his mind had taken the time to memorize, but never truly remembered. He could only recall the feeling when he was laying in his own bed at night and spiraling. He never had it when he wanted it. Only when his mind felt like he needed it. And those moments were maddeningly rare. 

He squeezed her hand in his, trying to take in every last bit of the sensation it brought him, if only to try and replicate the feeling later.

He felt that her hand shook slightly in his, and he smoothed his thumb over her palm before bringing it to his lips.

Ragatha’s eye widened in surprise before a small smile spread across her face. She gently led their joined hands to her face, reciprocating the kiss on the back of his glove.

Jax’s heart stuttered. He’d told himself that he wouldn’t let this happen again. He wouldn’t allow himself to show any sort of romantic feelings toward Ragatha—not anymore. 

And yet, in this moment, all he wanted to do was take her face in his hands, to pepper kisses against her cheeks, to hear her voice as she whispered—

“Jax,” Ragatha murmured, clutching his hand, now, in two of hers. 

Jax responded with a nod, hardly listening. He vaguely heard her voice, but he’d tuned it out. He didn’t want to deal with what she had to say—he wanted her.

Fuck it, he needed her.

Her soul, her heart, her body. He needed her. He leaned in and felt the surprise in a little gasp she let out.

Jax had never allowed himself to be the initiator in case he had to throw the blame on somebody else. Yet, right now, it didn’t matter at all. What mattered was beyond words. He didn’t want to speak ever again. All he wanted was this moment.

He leaned in closer, and expected for her to return the action in favor, to press her lips to his, but instead, she pulled back. His mouth chased hers, a frustrated noise escaping him.

“Jax, I don’t want to do this now. I want to talk to you.” Ragatha cupped his cheek in her hand, “Can’t we talk?”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about,” Jax muttered, attempting to lean in again. She pulled further away.

“There is! There is, and—“ 

—She cut off with a swear, and the censor appeared over her mouth— “I can’t pretend that you’re okay. I can’t pretend that I’m okay!”

“God, Ragatha, you always do this.” This time, he pulled further away, sitting up on the bed. “You say you want to forget, we start to actually have a good time, then you pull this. That’s what you really want. You want to get me all unguarded, then hit me where it hurts.” 

She shot up. “Jax, that’s not—” 

“Don’t say it isn’t true. It is. I know it is. You might not be fully aware of it, but you’re just as bad as I am, Ragatha. You want to get people all cozied up to you, then get them to spill everything about themselves after you pulled them in.” 

Ragatha looked at him, really looked at him. “I’m sorry you see it that way, Jax.” 

“And I’m sorry you have to manipulate everybody into loving you.” His eyes narrowed, and he hardly realized what he was saying until the words left his mouth. “Just like your mom.”

Her jaw opened, but no sound came out. She looked at him with a face he’d never seen on her before. 

Coldness washed over him, making him both shiver at the look in her eyes and detach himself from the moment entirely. 

Jax turned from her, not wanting to be face-to-face with her while she looked like that. “I’m leaving.” 

She didn’t say anything.

For a moment, he glanced back at her, and saw her looking down at the floor. 

He opened his mouth to say something else, but a deep twist of his stomach stopped him. 

So he left. He turned away from her one more time, and not for the last time.

After Ribbit died, Ragatha knew Jax was never quite the same. But after what occurred that night, she saw how deep rooted his issues were. 

This time, she looked deeper into their interactions. Just like she should’ve done when Ribbit was still… alive. The guilt of them dying never left her, and it constantly haunted her late at night. Every single time she looked at Jax, all she could see was him asking her to keep that promise. 

And it was hard to. She knew talking about problems made them easier to get over, and not being able to talk about, to grieve, one of her friends… it messed with her. 

So, when she noticed the same thing happening with Kaufmo, she pushed. She tried her very best not to seem overbearing, but Ragatha knew that it was inevitable.

Ragatha didn’t have much to lose. Jax hated her now anyway. While she tried to hold onto the foolish hope that he’d come around and that the guy she knew would return, Ragatha knew that he was gone. 

He’d left the moment Ribbit’s abstracted form was tossed into the cellar—or, maybe, before then.

Jax was beyond saving, and Ragatha could accept that. But she wouldn’t let his sickness spread to others—and particularly not to Kaufmo, who still was fairly close to Jax, all things considered.

Ragatha tried her best to lure Kaufmo away from Jax’s cruelty. She invited him to team up with her on adventures and warded Jax away when he got bored and decided to insult Kaufmo. 

And yet, just as Ribbit had been, Kaufmo seemed forever pulled to Jax. He was a force—the more hurt he dished out, the more people tried to break through his walls. Ragatha had decidedly grown immune to this pull, but Kaufmo didn’t.

It was obvious that this was taking a toll on him, too.

One day, Kaufmo didn’t show up for the adventure at all, which was odd for him. Ragatha, after the adventure, sought him out, and found him muttering to himself in the hallway.

“Kaufmo?” Called Ragatha, approaching slowly, as if he were a child. She knew that Jax’s treatment of him made him fragile, but she could turn him around. He was still here. It wasn’t too late.

Kaufmo’s head jerked up at her voice, his hands wringing nervously. “Ragatha—Ragatha—“

“Hi, Kaufmo,” Ragatha reached Kaufmo. “Are you alright? We missed you on that adventure. It sure was fun!”

Kaufmo shook his head, eyes wide and empty, staring past Ragatha. “No. No adventures. We can leave—if we—if I…”

Ragatha grimaced. “Hey…do you want me to get Caine? Or we could talk?”

“No!” Kaufmo stumbled back frantically, one hand slicing through the air in a panic. “No! Not Caine!” He looked around feverishly. “Where’s Jax? I need to find Jax.”

“You don’t.” Ragatha stepped forward, and in turn, Kaufmo stepped back. “Jax won’t listen. Just talk to me.”

Kaufmo shook his head again, backing away further. “No. You—you think I’m crazy. I’m not crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy! Please, just—“

“I’m gonna find Jax. He’ll understand. He’ll help me. He won’t think I’m crazy…”

“Have fun bein’ crazy!” Jax had laughed as Kaufmo walked away from him. He hadn’t meant it—well, not completely. Kaufmo had been acting a bit crazy, talking about some sort of exit door and some weird, made-up things about Caine.

Jax didn’t need to humor him. That wasn’t his obligation. So he shut down his weird-talk and let him walk away.

It wasn’t his fault.

It wasn’t his fault.

So Jax also wasn’t obligated to go to his funeral, either.

He wanted to say Kaufmo surprised him, but he couldn’t. Kaufmo had lost his shit, just like Ribbit. 

Now it was only him left. Well…him and Ragatha, who, unfortunately, seemed dead-set on making sure they’d never lose another member of their quartet.

“Jax,” Ragatha rapped on his door quickly. “You didn’t come to Kaufmo’s funeral, a-are you okay..?”

Jax scoffed, calling over from his bed,“‘Course I’m okay!” Before slumping back against his pillows. He really hoped that Ragatha hadn’t dragged that new kid along with her. He bet that she’d be abstracted in a day at this rate.

“Why didn’t you come to his funeral, then?” She asked through the door, knocking again for emphasis.

“Nosy, nosy, nosy.” Jax sing-songed, “You can leave, dolly.”

Ragatha went silent, and for one blessed moment, he thought that she left. But there came another knock. “Something’s wrong with you, Jax, and I’m going to figure out what it is before you hurt anybody else.”

Jax tensed. He shot up from the bed, stomping over to his door and swinging it open, eyes darting about to find Ragatha and give her a piece of his mind. But she had run off, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

With a groan, he shut the door and flopped back onto his bed. 

During Kaufmo’s funeral, Jax had holed up in his room and spent his time turning polaroids away from him. 

First, he’d done that with pictures containing Ribbit after her abstraction—he couldn’t stand to see their face anymore. Today, he did that with photos featuring Kaufmo. Only one polaroid remained unturned.

It was a sentimental photo and nothing else. In it, Ragatha smiled at the camera. Jax waved one gloved hand in the air, the other slung loosely around her waist, drawing her to his side.

He didn’t even remember the adventure. All he’d thought of that day was her.

And all she’d thought of was probably how she could fix him.

Jax didn’t need fixing. He wasn’t toxic, he wasn’t poisonous. She was the poisonous one—putting these ideas in his head, making him think they could be something.

He’d never be anything with her.

He ripped off the photo from the wall and replaced the tape, facing it the other way so he wouldn’t have to look at her stupid, cruel, beautiful face ever again while in the room where they’d spent countless nights together.

Despite all the years she had under her belt in the circus, this was the most stressed Ragatha had ever been. 

Between juggling another one of Jax’s best friend fallouts, Kaufmo abstracting, and Pomni arriving, she had no time for herself. Just like with Ribbit, there was no grieving a friend. There was just staring at the ceiling of her room, praying to a non-existent being that everything would magically fix itself in the morning. 

It never actually happened. 

Every morning, she woke up with hope that it would’ve happened. It was a hope that was slowly being eaten away, but that wasn’t the point. She wouldn’t let herself succumb to that negativity. It only lead to darker places—like the bottom of a cellar. 

Ragatha couldn’t show her ever-present disappointment in that fact. Pomni’s fragile, new mind needed someone consistent and stable. So, that’s what she would be. She would be the perfect new friend—happy, welcoming, and warm! 

Except, apparently, that’s not what was wanted.

Pomni didn’t want the joy, the warmth she gave off. 

What she did want? 

Brashness. Arrogance. Coldness. 

Jax. 

Ragatha was okay with it. Really, she was. She was happy for them. 

And then she remembered what happened with the only other people Jax was that close to. 

She tried so hard to pull Pomni in. To try and make herself be appealing to her. 

When that didn’t work, she decided to let Pomni try. Maybe if she watched them closely enough, Ragatha could see what the core of the issue was. Surely, that would make it easier for her to fix it. She would finally find the cure to whatever Jax had going on inside him. 

Then… nothing happened. 

From what Ragatha could see, the famous “push away” wasn’t seen. For days, weeks, they were all buddy-buddy. Jax was being nice to her. Jax! 

So what was it? 

What about Pomni changed everything? What kind of cure did she magically seem to procure so suddenly, so quickly? 

What ingredient did she have that Ragatha lacked? 

And why did Jax seem to have this incessant need to want everyone but her? 

Sure, they had their quiet and intimate moments in the darkness of their rooms, but that was where nobody could see. Jax found a way to love, or at least like, anyone else so publicly. With Ragatha, their best moments were always in private, and if they weren’t, they were brushed off and quickly forgotten. 

What about her made her so embarrassing to be around? What about her made him separate himself from her so adamantly? 

She thought back to the beginning of it all. Jax’s slow withdrawal from Ragatha. 

When it was just him, her, Kaufmo, Ribbit, and Kinger, she saw him in her room all the time. They would lay on her bed, talking about anything and everything. She remembered their hands grazing and flinching back almost every time until she finally got the courage to just hold his hand. 

After each abstraction, each loss, he just seemed to drive her further and further away. Her bed never felt that warm, nothing else could replicate the feeling of his hand in hers, nothing gave her the same feeling as making eye contact with him. 

Then, Pomni came, and it all just… stopped. Like they were never really anything at all. Like they were never even friends. 

Pomni became that person for him, and Ragatha had to pretend knowing that didn’t make her feel a little sick, even when she couldn’t physically feel that way. 

Right when Ragatha thought it wouldn’t, it happened. The push away. 

She didn’t know what exactly, but something happened between the two of them during the gun adventure, and that’s when it started. 

Something about this time felt different, and Ragatha didn’t know how to pinpoint it. One would think she would know by now, but she still found herself asking that question in the back of her mind—as they procured a plan to stop Caine, as it went terribly wrong, as they dealt with those consequences. He was always in the background of her mind, but it felt more haunting, scarier even. 

The epiphany came during the weird limbo—when Caine was gone, but after they figured some things out. 

She came to the realization that, at some point, it became less Jax pushing others away, and more him pushing himself away. 

It was a detail she realized all too late. 

Instead of being able to use that information to help him, she had to watch as the black mass with glowing multi-colored eyes rampaged around the first floor of the circus. 

Jax was a violent person. He remembered this. He remembered hatred and guilt and anger—simple emotions, toxins planted so deeply into his bloodstream that, even now, they remained.

He was sure he could remember more, but his head was pounding. His senses were overwhelmed. It was too bright. He knew bright and dark and he knew that he didn’t like the light. The circus was dark and grey, yet every single hint of light glared down on him angrily, sweltering into every piece of code in the messed up mass he’d been reduced to.

When he retreated into his mind, it was easier to think. He could return to his old form—not that he liked that one all that much, either—and could remember things. But his brain was an unwelcome place, crawling with venomous creatures and inhabited by other versions of himself which tormented him endlessly.

He often found himself within one figment of his imagination in particular. It began the same way every time. He knew nothing of what had driven her to this point, or what happened when she changed—all he knew was that Ragatha was gone.

A big, ugly X marred her door—The door she’d always kept open for him if he needed help. The door she’d begged him to come through to talk. She’d always just wanted to talk.

He’d refused every damn time, but now, his fingers traced down the door, thumb brushing against her portrait. She was gone.

Somewhere, a voice of reason screamed that she wasn’t gone yet. That somewhere, outside of this bottomless heap of darkness and neon lights, Ragatha was holding on. The voice nagged at him. He had to stop her from leaving. It wasn’t too late—but no one else knew her the way he did.

A few times, he tried to claw his way out from the abstraction to reach her, but never could manage to. He’d always give up before even being halfway there.

The shame of this was unbearable. Because he knew she never gave up on him.

Time and time again, she’d tried to save him. She’d been patient and forgiving, accepting every bruise he battered into her. Ragatha was right all along. He was infected with some horrible sickness which made him so angry at everybody.

Perhaps that was why he didn’t allow her to reach out. He didn’t want her to be vulnerable and to catch this virus of his. She was kind. He was cruel. Jax would not ruin her as he ruined everything else which he touched.

Jax’s hand slid further down the door. Beside him, he could’ve sworn he heard Pomni’s voice, muffled and hundreds of miles away from him.

He’d been right about one thing. Ragatha was not immune to his killing instinct, to his incurable disease. She was not the antidote—Jax was sure that the cure did not exist.

But she’d tried. Oh, how Ragatha had tried to cure him—how happy she would’ve been if she’d seen success in her attempts at a remedy.

Jax let the space he held within his mind dissolve. He was finished with staring at her face. As he felt his consciousness slip to the usual murky senses of abstraction, he let her slip away, too.

Her concern would never be enough to fix him—her love would never be enough to cure him.

And he’d never be enough to save her.