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Diana rolled over, the round plastic edges of the test digging into her tightly clenched fingers.
The gentle red glow of the plus sign seemed like an eye staring at her, unblinking, judging. Even covering the piercing light with her palm didn't help. It knew.
Positive.
The woman brushed some of her long red hair away from her face as she sat up on the bed, forcing her fist to relax and release the object. It dropped onto the comforter without a sound.
A long sigh fell from her lips as she caught a glimpse of her pale, freckled face in the mirror hanging over her dresser. Her eyes looked sunken and shadowed, and her frizzy hair was haloed around her head. The dressing gown covered pajamas she'd worn for two days.
She was a mess, had been a mess ever since she had first begun to suspect that something was different with her body. It was something she'd never experienced before, and yet, she remembered experiencing it. She hadn't actually needed the test to tell her what it was. She already knew.
Stubbornly, she'd ignored it, telling Sigma it was just a stomach bug—trying to believe it herself, trying to tell herself that she was imagining things—it was just her anxiety at work. It was just like her to overreact. Isn't that what he'd always said?
She knew that wasn't true—in almost every case involving him, she'd under-reacted. But even years later; even with the devoted, respectful love of a decent man, and the patient reassurance of trustworthy friends, she still couldn't fully dig all of his lies from her mind.
The simple truth was that Diana was in her current condition because they'd been careless. It couldn't be blamed on either her or Sigma being ignorant to the consequences of their actions, or unaware of what was needed to prevent it from occurring. After all, she was a nurse, even though she hadn't needed to work for the past few years.
She knew better, and had even scolded others for being lax. But she had allowed herself to get caught up in the moments where she and Sigma could get lost in each other, far away from the stress of the world's future resting on their shoulders.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that the world depended on them. The small group who had been gathered at D-com were the only ones who knew of the danger the world was in; and with their SHIFTing abilities, they were the only ones who could stop it. The deadly situation they'd been thrust into had shown them what would happen if they didn't. The memories of timelines where they'd failed still remained in the back of her mind.
And that was why she knew exactly what was happening to her, and why she was so completely terrified of that truth.
It was directly her fault that they were in this position, that any of the torture they had been through had happened. Because the mastermind had been her--
She cut off the thought with a groan, flopping back down onto the mattress. Blue eyes glanced up as she heard a small squeak—her bedroom door was opening. A white and brown tail waving like a flag approached, then two mismatched paws and a wet black nose appeared on the side of the bed. Finally Gabby heaved herself onto the mattress, then padded over to settle next to Diana. She rested her nose on her owner's stomach and peered up at her with placid hazel eyes.
“You're not allowed up here, you know that,” Diana chided the dog, gently, with no intention of removing her pet. She began to scratch Gabby's head as she lay back on the mattress and continued to think.
How was she going to break the news to everyone—let alone Sigma? How would they react? With congratulations and smiles, or shocked, silent dismay? Considering what her pregnancy had wrought in other timelines, she couldn't blame anyone if they reacted with abject horror.
And there were additional... complications.
--
The Sigma that Diana had met at the test site--the one she'd fallen in love with, and shifted through worlds with-- wasn't quite the Sigma that she'd been living with for the past year.
He'd warned her of the possibility, and Akane had confirmed with a quiet nod. Originally, a 22-year old Sigma had been kidnapped by Akane days before the D-Com experiment, and his consciousness had switched with that of his older self in order to prevent the Radical6 calamity. That older self was the Sigma Diana had met and fallen in love with.
However, since they'd been successful in preventing the disaster this timeline, they weren't certain of 'where' or 'when' young Sigma was. If he WAS to come back, there needed to be an instigating event, a trauma that would shock his old mind out of his body and call his young mind back in.
One had happened.
It hadn't been anything related to Crash Keys. It wasn't caused by anyone. It had been a complete accident.
When walking home with Diana and Phi after a lunch one day, Sigma had stepped on a patch of ice, slipped, and slammed his head off of the ground. In a second, the Sigma who seemed to know more about Diana than she knew about herself was gone, and a stranger was in his place.
Phi had refused to believe it at first, insisted that he was playing a prank on them. But Diana knew, as soon as Sigma had opened his eyes, that this was someone not quite familiar. It was like the Capgras Delusion—if she hadn't been warned of this event, she would have thought she was losing her mind.
Sigma, however, hadn't had that kind of preparation. The last thing he remembered was being kidnapped—he didn't know by whom or for what. Everyone around him was a complete stranger, and yet, he'd immediately trusted Phi. Even without memories, he recognized the bond between them—a friendship stronger than that of their genetic link.
The calm Diana had come to rely on still remained in him. He didn't panic in the bizarre situation like an ordinary person would have. He agreed to join Crash Keys, and with Akane's help, the memories of events his older self had experienced were returning every day.
And so, Sigma fit right in. He picked fights with Junpei, drank with Seven and Lotus, and debated philosophy with Akane. He arm-wrestled Carlos, made crass comments to Alice and Clover, and placed bets with Aoi. He even visited Mira in prison with Eric and Sean—who had an adorable cyborg head created by his older self, indistinguishable from any real child. And Phi was always close by, as his best friend.
“Sigma is Sigma,” Phi had said with a shrug when Diana talked to her about it. “It doesn't matter when his consciousness is, whether it's 'old' or 'young', it's always the same Sigma.”
But Diana couldn't quite agree—her relationship didn't bounce back so easily.
It wasn't only the loss of mature Sigma, who had experienced all the horrible events at D-com with her. It wasn't only missing the man who would hold her tightly when she had a bad flashback or panic attack.
It was how young Sigma treated her.
Around Diana, Sigma froze, stuttered, turned red, and would leave the room quickly if they were alone. He still remained in the house they'd bought together, but slept in the spare bedroom, leaving her alone in their bed.
It was as if she were a complete stranger, rather than the woman he'd been living with, sleeping with—planning a future with. He avoided her, and when he could not, he was too gentle with her, too hesitant. It was as if he was truly afraid of her, afraid she wasn't strong enough to even handle his touch. It was exactly how he'd been in the first days of D-com, before they'd been kidnapped for the Decision Game.
It broke her heart.
She'd been sobbing one night, missing him terribly, when there was a quiet knock on the bedroom door. She opened it to see Sigma, who stared into her eyes with the quiet calm she recognized from his old self, before taking her into his arms and holding her tightly.
That was the first night they'd really talked.
It was as if the roles had reversed. When she'd first bonded with Sigma, he had told her all about herself—things he claimed she'd told him, things he'd have had no other way of knowing. In a way, it was easier—he already knew about her past trauma, so she didn't have to relive it.
But strangely, she'd almost resented him for it. Instead of letting him know on her own terms, that choice had been removed from her. The loss of control was a familiar feeling, and one she hated.
She had felt like she had to apologize and explain why she did certain things—triple checking the locks before bed, choosing bulky, unattractive clothing when going out, freezing when she thought she recognized a face in the crowd—only to be reassured that he knew why, that she didn't need to tell him. But how could she know that he really understood, when she hadn't been the one to explain it?
She finally found herself in control in a way she had never been before as she told him everything—all of her past, all of the intimate moments they'd shared, as he held her gently against his bare chest in bed that night. The roles had been fully reversed, but she no longer felt lost.
She had loved him before, when he was the one who had already experienced life with her, and she knew, without any doubts, that Sigma would love her now.
He confessed that he had been awkward because he hadn't known how to treat her. He was heavily attracted to her, but because of the odd circumstances, he felt he had to stay away. He was terrified of adding to her trauma.
“You're like a little bird, Diana,” he'd whispered into her hair as he ran his fingers through it, weaving between the curled ends. She was curled up on his chest, listening to the firm, steady heartbeat that was exactly as it had been. “I feel like a clumsy dog that wants to play, but I'm... afraid. Afraid of not being who you need. Of not being able to live up to me.”
“You are who I need,” she'd said, firmly, drawing herself up onto his lap to look him in the face. She paused, looking down for a moment before meeting his calm grey eyes again. “It seems like when I first met you, you remembered an older me. And now, you're meeting me, but I remember an older you. So... we're even, right?”
He laughed for a moment before regaining a serious expression as he cradled her chin in his large hand. “Are you certain you're okay with this?”
“I already know who you'll become, the way you knew who I would be. But this time, we'll grow and learn together. We've never had that before.” She nodded, kissing his thumb. “I'm more than certain.” She slid against him, signaling that the time for words was over.
He let her take charge, leading the way, before slowly making his own moves—at first too hesitant, too delicate, and then confident and strong. That had been the first time they'd made love again. Her anxiety had melted away.
It was Sigma, just as Phi had assured her. It was really him.
She felt herself slowly becoming whole again, as they bonded over the next few months—not only in the bedroom, but in their daily life. From cooking and cleaning to investigating and meditating, they became the couple they were before—only stronger.
---
Still, even knowing how much he loved her, and knowing that they'd both been casual about protection—it wasn't all on her--she didn't know how he was going to react when she told him she was pregnant.
He knew that he had gotten Diana pregnant before, as part of a plan in a horrible, horrible situation. And he knew that the twins born of that union had been Phi and Delta—his best friend, and a monster who had tortured and killed them, over and over.
What if the moment Diana spoke the words or showed him the test, he dragged her to the clinic to nip the problem in the bud? What if it horrified him, and he abandoned her, to prevent any chance of it happening again? What if--
Gabby nudged her hand and whined, breaking the pattern of worried thoughts swirling through her head. Diana smiled, sitting up and scratching the dog's ears.
If she hadn't known better, she'd have sworn that Gabby could read her mind—anytime she was upset or anxious, Gabby was at her side immediately. The dog would beg for attention, distracting her from her anxiety and calming her from panic attacks. She'd been so lucky that Gabby had found her, showing up on the doorstep one stormy night. The dog had been covered in mud but greeted her with a friendly, wagging tail. Diana had been surprised but secretly grateful that no one had claimed the dog, even though she and Sigma had worked hard to seek out whoever must have raised her. It was so hard to believe that anyone could abandon such a sweet, intelligent dog.
“You wanna go out, girl?” Gabby wagged her tail eagerly as she hopped off the bed and paused at the door, turning back towards her owner. Diana felt a little twinge of guilt. She had been a bit neglectful for the past two days, leaving Sigma to take the dog on walks and only letting her out in the yard to relieve herself.
Maybe a walk in the cool winter air was just what she needed, too—and it would at least get her to wash her face and put on clean clothes.
After she had made herself somewhat presentable, she headed downstairs with the speckled dog trotting happily beside her. She grabbed Gabby's leash as she shrugged into her thick, brown coat, and grabbed the lovely purple scarf Akane had knit for her a few months ago. It hadn't been a hobby she'd expected the mysterious woman to have, but it seemed Akane's secrets weren't all involving life or death situations.
A vision of tiny knit pink and blue baby caps came to her, and she blushed, quickly shaking the thoughts from her head. She was getting ahead of herself. How could she let herself fantasize that this could be a happy occasion when she hadn't even discussed it with Sigma, and when there was so much that could go wrong?
Was she even capable of being a good mother? She debated the question in her mind as they started walking down to the local lake. Gabby happily pulled slightly ahead on her leash as she sniffed the breeze that lightly lifted Diana's orange curls and nipped at her cheeks. Certainly, she'd given birth, in other worlds, but her children had been sent from her, and then...
She swallowed, trying to shut the tears that pricked at her eyes away. And then, nothing. She didn't remember—she couldn't.
--
Diana had brought it up, once, after bringing coffee to Hazuki—who preferred they called her Lotus—and tea to Akane as they sat in her computer room and discussed their current strategy of gathering information.
Lotus had decided to make a spreadsheet to catalog the events of each timeline that the Decision Game participants remembered in an attempt to put order to the events, and perhaps find clues there. Diana had filled out as much as she could, but one area was completely empty.
“I just can't remember anything after that—not SHIFTing, not … what happened to my babies. I must not be trying hard enough,” Diana had said, giving a hollow laugh as she tried to minimize the horror of the situation. “Maybe if I--”
“Don't,” Akane had interrupted, simply, almost coldly; looking much older than she was. She knew, Diana realized as she looked at her haunted violet eyes. She knew exactly how Diana's little family had been born, and had died, all in under a year. She knew the bones of the story, somehow, but was it enough? What if there was something only Diana could remember, some crucial clue that--
Akane pulled her from her thoughts again, setting her tea cup down with a sharp clink. “Diana. Do not unlock that door.”
“But--” she began, but was shocked into silence as Lotus stood up and pulled the smaller woman against her, hugging her tightly.
“She's right. Don't,” the older woman whispered fiercely into her ear. “You focus on here and now, Di. Don't you dare punish yourself for another life.”
Diana's eyes had brimmed with tears, and she broke down and sobbed into Lotus' arms. It was so unlike the older woman to show open, warm empathy, but she knew that Lotus had a perspective that Akane, Clover, and the other women lacked. She understood the pain Diana was feeling in ways that they couldn't imagine.
She was a mother, and especially, a mother of twins. Lotus understood. She knew what it was like to be a mother, to lose her children. The difference was only that Lotus had gotten her twins back—but she still knew that agony. She knew the doubts, the fears, the what-if's—and she knew how a mother couldn't help but blame herself for failing to protect her children.
So Diana had abandoned the subject. She didn't think about what must have happened once the transporter's warm light faded, and she and Sigma were left alone, trapped and starving, with two perfect, precious newborns that they couldn't protect. She didn't think about how cruel her own child had grown up to be, to be willing to leave them to die, painfully, simply so he could gain stronger powers. She didn't think about how heartless her son had been to murder them, ruthlessly, repeatedly—and then to mock her when she found herself making abhorrent choices, completely unable to understand what had come over her. And—perhaps most unforgivably—he had put not just his parents, but his own twin sister through it all, too.
But Diana didn't think about it. Except during her nightmares.
--
And now, with that positive test, she HAD to think about it. She couldn't let the nightmare become reality. She had to make the right choice.
She let out a sigh as she walked. There didn't seem to be any other visitors to the park, more than likely due to the sudden cold snap. It was a relief—she wouldn't have to talk to anyone. Usually Gabby's insatiable friendliness and determination to receive pets from every single human on the planet meant she had to socialize, at least a little, when they went to the park.
Diana's thoughts turned to Phi as the pond entered her line of sight. Her daughter—it was so strange to think of a woman only slightly younger than her as such--had grown into a strong, intelligent, and confident woman. Even though she had been found alone, abandoned, and had been raised by strangers, she hadn't been the worse for it.
Maybe that was why she'd turned out so well—because she hadn't been raised by a broken woman like Diana.
Diana knew she was the only one who would be a problem. Sigma was healthy, both physically and mentally. He would be an excellent parent, especially in this timeline where he could devote himself to raising his children among all the friends he'd made. He was strong, empathetic, and intelligent—he would be the ideal father. His memories of the horrors they'd endured were not as strong as hers.
And it wasn't only the trauma of the Decision Game that haunted Diana. She bore scars from a much earlier time, scars that couldn't be seen--ones that woke her screaming in the night, and led her to freeze up and be unable to move during what others found to be an ordinary interaction. She held the weight of her own mistakes—of taking her abuser back again and again, of believing his lies. Of choosing to believe them over experience and logic and every single person she knew begging her not to.
She couldn't be relied upon to make good choices for herself—so how could she possibly do so for innocent, helpless children? They would need her to be strong, to not freeze up when she saw a face that looked slightly like his. They'd need her to bravely teach them about the world, not to hide away from it among safe people. They'd need her to comfort their nightmares instead of frightening them with screams from her own.
With all her trauma, was she even remotely capable of being a good mother, or was she just fooling herself because she wanted to be one so, so badly?
A chill breeze whisked through her, and she shivered, feeling tired. She'd almost forgotten that the symptoms that explained to Sigma as just a mild flu were very real. She headed towards a bench overlooking the pond to rest.
She let Gabby off the leash to chase after the falling leaves after she sat down. Gabby needed her exercise after two days of rest, and Diana knew that she could trust the dog to not run too far. With her current state of exhaustion and nausea she knew she'd never be able to keep up with her.
She stared up at the sky, trying to focus on the fluffy clouds gliding across the late afternoon blue. But all of her previous thoughts were crowding in, each one equally important and demanding her full attention. Memories started to mix in, painful deaths, torturous decisions, losing Sigma again, and again--
It was the onset of a panic attack, so dissonant to such a peaceful, beautiful place. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe slowly.
Diana took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, forcing herself to focus only on the now. Mindfulness, her old therapist had called it. Name three things you can feel, three that you can see, three that you can hear. Bring yourself only into the present. She briefly wondered what the expression on that therapists' face would be like if she knew how many timelines Diana had experienced, and what had happened to her during them. She shook off the thought.
Three she could feel. The coldness of the air stinging her cheeks. The heaviness of her coat, protecting her body from the breeze. The chill wood of the bench under her fingertips.
Three she could see. The brilliant reflections of the brightly colored trees on the pond's mostly still water. The deep blue of the sky overhead. The playful way Gabby chased the leaves, pouncing almost like a cat.
Three she could hear. The light breeze brushing past her ears. The gentle rippling of the pond water under it.
And the slight crunching of dry leaves as footsteps approached.
When Diana turned to see the intruder to her solitary afternoon, an intense pain shot through her, halting her actions. She covered her temples with her hands as they throbbed. There was a strange feeling—as if something had been lifted from her—and the pain was gone as quickly as it had come. A cough distracted her from the curious occurrence.
“Would you mind terribly if an old man joined you?”
She looked up, lowering her hands. The man before her was indeed old, leaning heavily on a cane. No hair crept out from his round, black felt hat, and his wrinkled skin bore a few age spots. Dark, round glasses covered his eyes and a scarf was wrapped loosely over his chin. He was dressed as though it was much colder, but she knew the elderly felt chills more strongly than the young.
She felt a slight haze cross her mind again, and smiled.
“Oh, of course not. Please!” She gestured to the bench beside her.
“My thanks.” The old man slowly lowered himself onto the bench, giving a tiny groan as he sat back. He turned to her slightly with a smile. “These old bones don't handle cold as well as they used to.”
“It has been cold lately,” Diana offered, unsure of what else she could say. Her thoughts had been so personal, so distorted, that she couldn't quite remember what people without trauma talked about.
She felt nervous, and annoyed with herself for feeling that way—it was an ordinary conversation, but those were the kind she had the most trouble with sometimes.
“It will be a long winter. But we'll get through it, we always get through it.” His calm statement again brought her to the present. He was gazing out across the pond, almost as if he could see into the future. She felt relief that his eyes, hidden behind the glasses, seemed to no longer be on her.
He continued without requiring a response from her—another small action that eased her anxiety. “I've seen many long winters in my time, and I can assure you this one will be no worse, although it may feel that way right now.”
He tapped his cane on the ground in three sharp knocks. Across the park, Gabby's ears perked up, and she ran from the leaves she'd been herding to greet the newcomer.
“Wonderful dog,” the man said as he ruffled the dog's ears. Gabby's tail thumped against the ground with enthusiastic strength, but she didn't jump up on the man as she did almost everyone else—a habit they were still trying to break. “I had one, once—truly a remarkable companion. And this one is quite devoted to you. That is a blessing not many appreciate.”
He was the sort who didn't need a conversation partner—only someone to listen, Diana realized, relaxing. That might have been exactly what she needed right now—a distraction from everything terrifying her, someone to talk about the weather and dogs and everything that wasn't her pregnancy.
“How long have you been expecting?”
The question demolished her previous line of thought, taking her completely off guard.
“Excuse me?” she faltered, feeling a twinge of panic return. If a complete stranger could tell—then maybe Sigma already knew, maybe he was just pretending to not notice because he didn't want to—he didn't want it to be true, he was hoping she'd take care of the problem on her own--
The man chuckled, sitting back with both hands on the top of his cane. Gabby lay down by his feet, surprising Diana with her calm. “When you get to be my age, young lady, sometimes there are things you simply know.”
He paused, taking a deep breath. “Forgive an old man for being blunt. I sometimes forget that it's unwelcome.”
“Oh, no,” Diana said, automatically trying to reassure him, another bad habit born of her anxiety. She placed a hand on her belly, looking down. “I... I just found out today, actually.”
She wasn't sure why she'd shared such deeply personal information with a complete stranger—information she hadn't even told the father. She didn't recognize the man from her many trips to the park—maybe that was why. He must have been passing through the area, so it was unlikely they'd run into each other again, she theorized, trying to reassure herself. He certainly didn't seem like someone Sigma would know, she thought as she regarded his frail form with a sideways glance.
The man took a deep breath, releasing it with a pleasant smile before he spoke again. “It will be twins.”
His tone was certain, confident. Diana opened her mouth slightly, then closed it. He seemed to have more to say.
“You seem unsure of yourself, but it's unnecessary. No one truly knows what to expect when they become a parent for the first time—although, this isn't your first. I can tell that you've lost a child before.”
Diana stared at the man, biting her lip. “I have,” she whispered.
The feeling was uncanny—it was reminiscent of how Sigma had told her about herself when they'd first met. But--
“It's not something one easily gets over, losing a young one. I... went through something similar, myself, long ago.” The man let out a sigh and tilted his head back, staring up at the clouds through his thick glasses. He was silent for a moment. Diana waited, not daring to speak for fear she'd miss what he said next.
“Sometimes, we're given a second chance to make up for mistakes that we made when we were younger. It is up to us to take that chance bravely, not to let it pass us by, no matter how uncertain we may be.” He paused again, turning his head back towards her. “Have you thought of any names for your little ones?”
“No,” she confessed, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering slightly. “It's all... it's been very sudden. I haven't even had a chance to tell the father yet.” She bit her lip again. “To be honest... I don't know how he'll react.”
“He will be delighted.” It was the same confident, certain tone. She swallowed, hard, as the familiar feeling intensified. It wasn't a strange old man simply talking nonsense. He knew.
How? Could he, too, be an-- Diana shook her head as the thought vanished. No, she was getting distracted from a polite conversation by nothing. How silly!
The man leaned his cane slightly forward again. “Might I offer a suggestion?”
“Oh, of course,” Diana said without thinking. Her head was feeling so hazy, suddenly. She wondered if her blood sugar was low. She would need to be more careful, she had more than herself to worry about...
“What are your thoughts on the name... Kyle?”
“Kyle,” Diana repeated. It sounded wonderful, familiar yet new and fresh. She placed her hand on her belly, feeling a warmth and attachment that hadn't been there before. “Kyle... That's a wonderful name. Is it yours?”
The man chuckled. “No, no, that name does not belong to me.”
He was silent again, offering no further information. The wind blew a little bit harder, and leaves rustled against their feet. Gabby's ears perked up, and she looked up at the man, as if asking permission. He gave a slight nod, and the dog took off, playfully chasing after the bright colors.
“What about girl names?” Diana asked, wanting to hear the man speak again. It was so calming, somehow, even though she knew she'd never met him before in her life—she couldn't place any of his features. It was easy to focus on his voice, forgetting the fog over her mind that was growing into dizziness. “Do you have any suggestions there?”
“I think the father will have a lovely name in mind, no doubt inspired by the woman he loves so much.”
He planted his cane into the ground as he got up. Diana felt a pang of regret as the man turned to her, straightening his scarf with one hand. “I must leave now, but it has been a pleasure to speak with you. My thanks for the conversation.”
“No—thank you,” Diana said, feeling gratitude with all her heart. “You've... really helped me. I don't know how you knew exactly what I needed to hear, but I feel reassured now.”
The old man smiled, tilting his head to the side as he regarded her. Diana thought he seemed somewhat sad. Why? Did she perhaps remind him of someone he'd loved in his youth?
“You will be a wonderful mother, Diana. You needn't feel any doubt on that.”
The pain shot through her head, and Diana gasped, dropping it between her arms. The throbbing pulsed through her, then slowly faded. She closed her eyes tightly til the moment fully passed.
When she opened them again, the man was gone.
Gabby barked from a spot by her feet, bringing her back to the present. She looked around. There wasn't a trace of the visitor. And strangely, she realized, she couldn't even begin to describe him. The clothes he was wearing, the color of his skin—she only knew that he was old, and had been kind to her, and seemed sad.
Another gust of wind brought her back to the present. The afternoon had taken on a golden tint, and she realized it was later than she'd thought. Sigma would be home soon. And she had something very important to tell him—she needed to hurry back.
She hooked Gabby's leash back on and turned to head home, then stopped. The breeze lifted her hair as she turned around again, hoping to see a retreating figure. But she was completely alone. She pushed her hair away from her face as she stared into the distance, a strange thought striking her.
“I... I never told him my name...”