Archive of Our Own

The first thing Ribbit sees when she opens her eyes is Jax's avatar glitching in the dim light of the aquarium. It's making her long, inky black hair clip into her model, so Ribbit can't see where it actually ends. She's grabbing Ribbit with a black glove, but it turns back to its usual yellow once Jax loosens her grip.

"Fuck," Ribbit says. "Hey, Caine!"

"Yeeeees?" Caine asks, appearing instantly. It takes him a second to register who's calling. Once he sees Ribbit's face, Caine's jaw drops—literally. With the snap of his finger, five characters—humans?—appear. Ribbit recognizes Ragatha and Kinger. The girl with the mask, the jester, the… strange assortment of shapes? Are all new to them. They all seem just as surprised to see Ribbit as they are to be seen.

Jax stops glitching. Ribbit's not actually sure if that's because of Caine or not.

"Ribbit." Ragatha puts a hand to her mouth. "I don't—I never thought—how did you come back?"

"Well," Ribbit says, and suddenly she's not sure how to explain the enormity of her decision and how long it had actually taken to make this single step forward. "Jax asked me to."

Jax, looking like she's suddenly overcome with a wave of vertigo, gives a slow nod.

"I asked," she says, like that's all there is to it.

Apparently, it's been four years since Ribbit died.

In that time, three new unfortunate souls had joined the circus, the third of which being apparently the inspiration for some majorly insane Caine adventure that had led them all to find out none of them were real people and also, they could have been doing magic this entire time. Judging from the look on Ragatha's face, Ribbit assumes that she expects Ribbit to be really torn up about the whole not being a human thing, but Ribbit just blinks in response.

"Yeah," they say. "I guess that makes more sense."

To be honest, they still feel numb. They remember being dead like a bad dream, but one they haven't fully waken up from. Maybe later, when they have more time to process this information, they'll freak out about it, but for now, it feels like the least of their worries.

It's not like she'd left anyone behind, anyway. Her parents, who she still missed, despite everything, probably wouldn't be talking to human-Ribbit now, either. Like every Mormon teen, Ribbit had been tasked with finding information on old members and convincing them to return to the church, so she had known she wouldn't be able to just simply move away. They don't remember if they'd found out about quitmormon.com after or before they'd gotten rid of their records, but they hadn't used the service, and instead talked to their bishop themself. It had been an important part in convincing themself to leave home. They had nodded and listened as he told them how if they did this, it would remove all of their blessings and they would be alone in the world beyond. That they would not be able to enter the same heaven as their parents or their brother, and instead would be doomed to an eternity alone.

(Showed what he knew, anyway—apparently, eternity had at least six other people.)

In the end, after the man who Ribbit had seen every Sunday for her entire life had finally run out of ways to guilt-trip her, he had agreed to let her leave the church. Her parents had found out the next day, and had asked her to leave home.

"If you've made the choice not to be with us then," her father had said. "You've made the choice not to be with us now."

As if it was Ribbit's fault, for ruining everything. Well—maybe it was. She had known what he would say to her, and she'd still done it, because she had known the life her parents had planned out for her, and she couldn't stomach the thought of being some man's wife.

They had left home at nineteen. Their parents had been just about to pay for them to go away on a mission trip. They'd had four years of freedom after that, before they put on that stupid headset that created them, and those four years hadn't been enough to change anyone's mind. Their parents had never reached out to them.

They hadn't made any new friends, either. Too busy trying to survive.

"Your name was Leah," Caine says, and to his credit, he does seem properly apologetic at taking that from them.

Ribbit almost asks, "which one?" but that's another Mormon thing that no one here cares about. There's no reason for Caine to look up her endowment name, and somehow she's lucky enough that it's still gone from her memory, which means she may have truly left it behind for good.

Now if only Caine could make her forget the promises she made before they forced it on her.

"If you'd like, I can look them up for you when we get internet back," Caine continues. Ribbit shakes their head, trying to rid themself of their thoughts.

"We have internet?" Ribbit asks. "Guess I've really missed a lot."

"Oh, yeah," Jax says mildly. "There's the sex update, too."

"Will you please stop calling it that?" Caine exclaims.

If someone asked, and Ribbit had been brave enough to be honest, they'd say it feels like this—

You're a small little kid drawing on the floor of your kindergarten class. You're still a frog with a bowtie, just shrunken down, because there's no money in the budget for another model. You're alone, because everyone thinks you're weird and a little too much like a boy so they don't want to play with you, but that's okay. You can have plenty of fun by yourself. You think about the fact you have a baby brother. You think how maybe one day he'll be your best friend, and he'll play all the games no one else wants to play with you.

You don't cry. You're pretending you're on your own little island, and the reason no one else is coming any closer is because the water around you is too high. Sometimes you play pretend that you have gills, and you can keep drawing under the sea, even when the waves wash away everything around you.

Except suddenly a bunny starts crawling over to you. She has a bowtie, too, but it's on her head. She's got a slightly crumpled empty piece of paper in one hand, and crayons in the other.

"Hey," the bunny says. She wiggles even closer to make sure she can see your paper as she draws. "I wanna draw fish with you."

"Oh," you say. "Okay."

And maybe you don't know how this works, but you think you're a little less dead then before.

Ribbit doesn't say anything else about coming back. Neither does Jax, apparently, but because it's such a sensitive topic, the others don't push. But she is still kind of freshly suicidal, so they don't leave her alone either.

"You isolated yourself so badly before," Ragatha tells Ribbit. "I'd never forgive myself if I let that happen again."

Ribbit doesn't know what to say to that, other than protest it's not like she had done that on purpose, but that just opens a can of worms she'd rather not get into, so she gives a little half-smile in response instead.

"That's fine," they say. "I guess I kind of don't want to be alone right now."

They don't say "I'm sorry" or "It won't happen again," because Ribbit isn't in in the business of telling lies or making promises they can't keep.

She spends the first week sleeping in Ragatha's bedroom instead of her own. Ribbit spends most of that first week in it, even after Ragatha's woken up, because her body feels sore and her mind has just remembered how exhausting it is to be alive. They share Ragatha's bed, because it's ridiculously big, and Ragatha's a pretty cuddly doll, anyway, which it means Ribbit can see the look of wonder on her face every day when Ragatha registers who's in bed beside her. She looks near tears every time she wishes Ribbit a good morning. As if the fact that Ribbit had a body that could lay down and open its eyes is already some kind of miracle.

The first few times Ribbit wakes up, they hear loud conversations happening outside of the room. Ribbit assumes they must be worried about her, but they never ask what it's about. Sometimes, it ends with Ragatha returning to her room and reading out loud to Ribbit like she's some kind of coma patient until Ribbit feels brave enough to face the day.

Even when they do go out, Ragatha hovers around them, offering her help for every little thing she can think to help with. Jax tells her to stop suffocating Ribbit, but Ribbit doesn't argue, because they can tell that Ragatha hasn't quite convinced herself it isn't a dream yet and Ribbit can tolerate a bit of discomfort if it means Ragatha will stop worrying about them. They keep on sharing her bed, too,

If Ribbit's being honest, it's a little much. And that's funny, isn't it? Before, she thinks she might have loved this. It's just…

It's hard to feel like she deserves it.

It fucking hurts to see your best friend act like she hates you, okay? Ribbit isn't the kind of frog that'll sugarcoat their words. It sucked. What Jax did to them was so terrible it feels like radiation poisoning on their soul. Something like this should have caused some terrible mutation she'll never recover from. It's like an emotional elephant's foot, just less obvious. And it shouldn't be, because well, she almost died, you know? Shouldn't that leave some sort of scar? So why does her body look exactly the way it had before?

Ribbit had cut her wrists exactly one time as a human and it had been as a threat to her mom and dad. It hadn't been an empty one, either. If Ribbit had to choose between the life her parents wanted for her and death, she would choose death without hesitation, and had told them as much.

"I won't do it," she had said. "I can't live like this."

But then they had lived, and nothing had changed, except for the fact they were forced to spend some time in the hospital and her parents started bringing up the ways other Mormons dealt with their "same sex attraction," and oh, now everyone in their church knew they were a dyke and knew they were just one of the many Mormon kids who had tried to kill themselves over it, and now no one wanted to talk to someone who wanted to lived a life so full of sin. It was almost enough to make someone try and repeat the experience, but the therapist she had been taken to after she'd gone home had been terrible enough that that on its own had scared her away from it.

Ribbit remembers looking down at the freshly-healed scar after her bandages came off. Well, she thought, she had lived through that. That meant dying wasn't an option. But she still didn't want to live like this. So now what?

Sometimes, even after they'd entered the circus, they'd rub their wrist and think about that scar. Dying wasn't an option. So the only thing left was to find something to do about their life instead.

Except, Jax hadn't wanted to be reasoned with. She hadn't wanted to make any kind of compromise. She had wanted Ribbit to hate her so completely Ribbit would think back to their night together and go, "There's no way any of that was real. Whatever I thought I heard, I must have misread it," but Ribbit had gone to school with a lot of closet cases before, and some of their fellow lesbians had no problem calling them slurs in the hallway even before she'd gone and outed herself just to put more distance between them and her, so it's not like the way Jax had lashed out had been anything special, except for the way it hurt more than anything else ever had.

Back when they were dead, Jax had said that sometimes she wanted to hate them for knowing what she needed before she did, and isn't it so funny, that after everything, the only crime Jax can pin on Ribbit is being too good of a friend?

"I don't want to push you," Kinger says. His voice is gentle. It's like he's trying to act as her therapist, which is enough to put Ribbit immediately on edge. "But I think it might help us know how to help the others if you talked about your experiences with abstraction more."

"I'm sure there's nothing I can say that you don't already know," Ribbit insists. "Not like I'm even the first one back."

"Well, you are the first one who's been gone for more than a year," Kinger points out. "And the first one who's returned to yourself after just one conversation. I've heard what happened with Jax from Pomni's perspective—she was the one to help reverse Jax's abstraction—but Jax hasn't given me many details about how it felt for her."

That sounds like Jax. Ribbit can't help but find that morbidly funny. Maybe death can be the new secret they share.

"I don't know how to describe it," Ribbit says. "Not everything feels like something else."

"What about coming back?" Kinger asks. Ribbit hesitates.

"Have you ever just assumed you'd be picked last for a game?" she says. "And you're waiting there while the teams are getting made, feeling kind of anxious, but then one of your friends calls your name and you kind of realize you were making a big deal about nothing? And now you're, like, having twice as much fun as you would have because you've suddenly got that reminder that people actually want to hang out with you?"

Their will to live has faded some since then. It's hard to keep up the joy of a revelation when you have to return to life and you're still the same pathetic person you were when you were trying to escape it.

If Kinger has noticed, he doesn't bring it up. Ribbit's glad for it, because at least that means he can't ask her any awkward questions about it.

"And are you still having fun now, Ribbit?" No. Of course not. Of-fucking course not. It's been four years and one of her best friends has moved on without her and the other one is dead. Everyone else is treating her like she's made of glass and there's years of inside jokes they've missed out on. The circus has changed enough in that time that Ribbit barely knows where anything is anymore, which means it basically feels like being a newbie all over again, except Jax is here and she's the only one who might remotely understand what Ribbit is feeling right now and that just makes it worse.

"That's a very specific metaphor," Kinger says. "So it's about community?"

Ribbit blinks.

"Uh, yeah." She hadn't thought about it that way. "Kind of? It's just—I don't know. No one wants to get left behind, right?"

Jax is actually the one to tell Ribbit about her system. The Jax Ribbit had known would have put off the conversation until it got too late and left someone else to explain. This Jax pulls Ribbit aside to talk because she's worried about exactly that happening.

It's strange to see a version of her friend aware of her own faults.

"I grew up in a cult," Ribbit says. "That's like, how people started studying dissociative disorders in the first place. I know what an alter is."

"Wait, really?" Jax shakes her head to keep herself on topic. "Anyway, I just—they all want to apologize to you. But I don't think it's going to really mean anything unless you actually know who they are, so…"

"So this is you warning me they're all going to start bothering me," Ribbit jokes.

"Not if you're not okay with that," Jax says, earnest enough it makes Ribbit uncomfortable.

"No, it's—" Ribbit rubs her wrist. "I mean, it's what I asked for, right? You're… trusting me."

Jax looks down.

"I can't hide it anymore," she admits. "I guess… we all got stuck pretending to be the same guy, but now that that mask is shattered, it's gone forever. But I didn't want to be afraid to tell you. And I don't… Just tell me if it's too much, okay? I'll find a way to tone it down."

Ribbit doesn't like that this is the part of Jax that feels familiar—the part where she's begging Ribbit to look past her "flaws"—as if experiencing a disturbing amount of childhood trauma is even Jax's fault.

"Don't tone it down," Ribbit says. "No point in meeting them if I'm not meeting them as themselves."

Blanc knocks on Ribbit's door a few days later wearing an old-fashioned lacy black dress and tells them they're going on a date. It's got a picnic basket tucked under one arm with a blanket neatly folded on top.

"Like, a friend-date or…?" Ribbit says. "I thought you were with that Pomni girl."

"We can find a way," Blanc replies, coy. "I'd never deny you anything."

Ribbit shifts from one leg to another.

"I don't think that's a good idea," they say. Blanc's face falls.

"I wasn't—I didn't—it was just a joke," it says. "Because—nevermind. It wasn't that funny."

For a second, Ribbit considers asking if the joke is that Jax is still in love with her, despite it all, but then she decides she'd rather not know. Besides, when a girl brings you back from the brink of extinction, it kind of says something about the way she thinks of you. Ribbit thinks she can read between the lines. No need to force any of them to be more honest then they're ready for. Ribbit already knows how that goes. And they're still not sure how to describe how they feel about Jax.

"It's fine," Ribbit says. "I've heard a lot of bad jokes before."

Blanc snorts.

"Yeah, you have," it says, fondly, and Ribbit knows they're thinking of the same person.

Blanc brings them to the Stargazing Room, which is exactly what it sounds like.

"This is my anti-suicide PSA," Blanc informs them. "Don't kill yourself. Because sometimes Caine'll make something really cool when you're gone."

Ribbit can't help but laugh at that.

"The others did kind of a bunch of mini-adventures based off the suggestion box," Blanc continues. "Back before we abstracted. Then we died, and Caine had his own power of friendship moment where he learned not to be evil and decided to go wild making this as detailed as possible."

"Damn," Ribbit says. "He must have felt really bad, huh?"

"Well, he did make the circus' specialest jester get eaten by crocodiles." Blanc shrugs, apparently forgetting that Ribbit has no idea what that means. "There's kind of a loooong list of things he's got to make up for."

Not to Ribbit, though. Caine had been an easy thing for them to adjust to. They had been used to people telling them what to do, and going from her hometown to a guy who just wanted her to have fun and didn't care if she was gay had almost been a relief. She'd gotten hurt on adventures, but no more than anyone else. She hadn't been like Kaufmo—Ragatha had told her how he died—Caine wasn't responsible for her losing hope. Living in the circus had worn them down slowly, like a rock getting smoothed down by time. Even before Jax had begun ignoring them, Ribbit had still felt isolated. Five people and a world of AIs weren't enough for them. They were selfish like that.

(Well, okay, it had been six at first. Before Jax arrived, there had been an oyster named Shellsea, and Ribbit had made plenty of jokes about aquatic solidarity, but that hadn't stopped her from abstracting, and that had been the day Ribbit realized that everything they had in here, as small as it was, could still be taken away.)

"Watch this," Blanc tells Ribbit. It turns to the sky and shouts, "Manila, Philippines!"

The stars shift around them, sliding into place like a time-lapse of the actual night sky.

"Woah." Ribbit gasps. "So this—"

"Yup," Blanc says. "It's what the night sky looks like in the capital of the Philippines right now. Well, more or less."

Blanc gestures to the moon.

"No one's made a lunar phase update yet."

"I'm perfectly happy with my body as it is," the moon says with a smile.

"Rock on," Blanc says. "Girl power."

Ribbit rolls their eyes.

"I don't know where in the Philippines my dad came from," they admit. It feels like a weirdly vulnerable thing to say, even though they're sure they've said as much to Jax before. Whenever Ribbit complained about not knowing her dad's family or his culture, he'd always just said, "You have your mother, don't you? Isn't that enough?"

Her mom's family had been a pretty big part of her life. They'd grown up being able to bike to their cousins' house, though as they grew older they did that less and less, because Ribbit had started to get the sense that they resented her for not being as white as they were. Not that anyone had said anything directly, but eventually, you start to learn when you're not wanted, especially when you're around someone';s hatred long enough. Even a frog realizes it's being boiled eventually.

Ribbit still loves her parents, despite everything, but she can't help but resent them for making them grow up in a place where they'd been the only mixed kid in their grade. Ribbit's certain that if Jax had grown up in the same town they did, they'd end up being friends, even if Jax had been an even bigger jerk as a child, just because of Ribbit's own lack of options. They know how pathetic that must sound, but that doesn't make it any less true.

"That's fine," Blanc says. "No reason we can't look through the whole island. Unless you've got plans?"

Blanc raises an eyebrow as it says this, and for a moment Ribbit thinks about responding, "Yeah, actually, I was planning to kill myself again," but she can't find a way to say it in a way that'll make it actually sound like a joke.

"How would we do that?" Ribbit asks. "Just go… 'Hey! Show us the sky from every inch of the Philippines!"

The stars begin to move again, slower. Blanc grins.

"You see what can happen if you just ask?" it jokes, and that would be funny, except Ribbit had asked and Jax had still refused to be their friend. Blanc must realize this, because it clears its throat and looks away. "I guess this is the part where I say I'm sorry."

"Not sure I'd know what you were apologizing for," Ribbit says. Blanc winces and nods.

"I'd like to start with what I remember," it says. "Buuut that's kind of hard to do when everyone in those memories are calling me 'Jax.' You don't—don't apologize. You weren't talking to me. I was just… there. I remember the thoughts in my head that were happening at that time, but… doesn't mean all those thoughts were me."

"This better not be your way of saying you have nothing to apologize for," Ribbit warns.

"Babe, this is me saying I have everything to apologize for!" Blanc laughs. "How am I supposed to pick one thing when it all blends together? I'm the one who acts like a bitch when Jax is too afraid to. I'm the one who thought up all those ways to keep Ragatha talking to us so she wouldn't go check up on you. Mostly I remember being so fucking jealous of you. Because you were like, a real person, you know? And I've never been anything but a joke. When people liked me, it was because I made myself look stupid in front of them. When they hated me, it was because I wanted that, too. And I—we were kind of terrified you'd laugh at us. Only way I knew how to solve that was to make you hate us instead."

"I never hated you," Ribbit says. She looks down at her hot chocolate and the food Blanc's set up that neither of them have touched. There's these small cakes dusted with coconut flakes Blanc says is a Filipino dessert called pichi pichi and Ribbit wishes they had an appetite so they could try it. It's probably not as good as the real thing, if it's just based off of Blanc's memory of them, but it's not like Ribbit will ever get a chance to know the difference.

Still probably more than Leah would ever have, honestly. Ribbit doubts her human-self even knows anyone who would introduce her to something like this and can't image looking into that on her own. What's the point of looking into your culture if at the end of the day, you'll still be alone?

"Really?" Blanc asks. "Because I kind of hated you. I don't think I ever stopped wanting to be your friend, but I still hated you."

Ribbit snorts and falls back onto the grass.

"Yeah, okay," they admit. "Maybe I felt a little like that, too."

Ribbit can feel Blanc's hesitance, even though they can't see it's face anymore.

"You knew what we are and didn't treat it as a joke," it says softly, like it already knows this is the saddest thing Ribbit's ever heard. "I wanted to be happy about that. But it just made me angry, because all I kept feeling like the punchline was coming soon and I needed some way to stop you from saying it."

Ribbit stares at the sky. With the way it's moving, even as slow as it is, it kind of makes everything look like shooting stars.

"It would have been super messed up of me to use that to make fun of you," Ribbit says. "You get that, right? I'm still mad you thought I would. I'm not a monster."

"If making fun of me makes you a monster, then I guess all of Leeroy's friends were monsters!" Blanc says it like a quip, but it's voice cracks.

Yeah, scratch that. This is the saddest thing Ribbit's ever heard.

"Your mom named you guys Leeroy?" Ribbit says.

"Ugh, I know." Blanc flops down beside them. "Can you even blame us for wanting to trans our gender, when sticking to just being a man meant keeping a name like that?"

"At least it's unique." Ribbit snorts. "Blanc definitely suits you better, though."

"Thanks," Blanc says, pleased. "You make a pretty good Ribbit, too."

It feels like this—

You're at your school's prom, and you're not dancing with your date. You wanted to go with a girl, but your parents would have killed you for that, so you settled for going in a group instead. Of course, because she was just as Mormon as you, she'd been too afraid to hold you close. And everyone else you'd gone with found a way to disappear on you. You console yourself by pouring yourself punch, staring at the dancers out on floor ahead of you and wishing, desperately, that you could join them as yourself, but you're not even dressed like yourself right now. You're wearing a pink dress with a pink bow in your hair, because that's what was expected of you. It's feminine in a way that makes you feel clumsy. You'd probably just make a fool of yourself if you tried to join anyone right now, anyway.

A rabbit in a blue suit jacket comes to great you.

"You're in disguise, too, huh?" the rabbit says. "Well, don't worry. You've already infiltrated the building. You can relax now, 007."

The rabbit makes you put on her jacket and steals your bow as compensation. With the buttons done, your outfit looks almost androgynous, and suddenly with the bow on, you can see the rabbit's mascara, and even though she didn't have hair a moment ago, she does now.

"You wanted to dance with a girl, right?" the rabbit says softly. She holds her hand out. "Will I do?"

It's not like Ragatha and Kaufmo never tried to include her. Blanc and Jax might think they were monopolizing everyone's time, but they couldn't be everywhere at once. Ribbit tells Blanc that, too. Ribbit's world kept spinning even when Jax wasn't around. She wasn't the main character of Ribbit's life.

It's kind of hard to vent about someone when you're all friends, though. Kaufmo and Ragatha were both pretty chill people. Their help at calming Jax down had been essential to Jax getting used to the circus, the same way Ribbit's own approach of throwing Jax into adventures to show the absolute joy of being able to fuck around all day had been. If Ribbit had ruined something with Jax, maybe they could fix it. Back when it all first started, Ribbit still held out hope that a simple conversation with Ragatha could make everything better.

Except, talking about it would mean going behind Jax's back, wouldn't it? Ribbit thought about that as they watched from afar as while their friends joked and laughed together. If they spoke up, Ragatha would feel awkward about choosing sides, and Jax would know that they had said something because Ragatha wasn't going to be able to magically unhear all of Ribbit's complaints about her the next time Jax asked to hang out together. And if Ribbit speaking up meant Jax couldn't talk to Ragatha or Kaufmo because Ribbit made things weird, how was that doing anything but trading places? Plus, Jax was lashing out because she trying to add more locks to her closet door. She needed to have some friend to help her work through whatever BS her mom put on her. Even if that friend couldn't be Ribbit, Jax needed someone.

They had been so hopeful back then. Surely, they had thought, Jax couldn't ignore them forever. Surely the circus wasn't big enough for that.

Eventually, once it started becoming too much for them, Ribbit started getting into the habit of lying on their bed and imagining a conversation with Ragatha, but she could hear Jax's response in every word she tried to say.

"Jax told me something that I'm not sure they actually wanted me to know."

What's that, Froggy? You're trying to get Ragatha in on your twisted mission to uncover all my secrets?

"Jax has been avoiding me lately."

Just because I won't hold your hand on every adventure doesn't mean I'm avoiding you! What, do you want to force me to spend time with you instead?

"I miss hanging out with Jax."

Oh, so now you want to ask Ragatha to schedule a play-date for us? If you want to talk so bad, why not just ask me yourself!

"Has Jax seemed… different to you?"

Too scared to come out and say it? Just going to let her assume the worst of me instead?

"I think Jax thinks I'm a bad person."

You are. You know you have to be. Why else would you be trying so hard to change me?

After a while, they gave up. They were never going to find the perfect thing to say, and they started to wonder why they even bothered to try, anyway. Maybe someone as clingy and selfish as Ribbit just didn't deserve friends, and that was all there was to it.

One of the first things Zooble tells Ribbit is that until Jax came out, they hadn't really gotten along.

"I know it's probably hard to vent to Ragatha considering all the history there," Zooble says. "But my first introduction to Jax was her kicking my head off, so… I know what she can be like. If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

"I don't know how much there is to say," Ribbit replies. "It's basically just the same story repeating itself over and over again."

"And?" Zooble says. "Did you ever actually tell anyone that story?"

Ribbit frowns. Venting to a stranger feels kind of pathetic, but Zooble is right in that they're probably the best person to hear it. Pomni's clearly aware of Jax's faults, but she's also madly in love, which complicates things, and though Gangle hasn't said much about her relationship to Jax, Ribbit gets the sense it's messy enough she doesn't need to hear anything that'll confirm her worst fears. Plus, Ribbit is pretty sure Kinger is Jax's therapist or something, which makes him hard to talk to in a completely different way.

"A while back Jax… told me something," Ribbit begins. They're surprised at how good it feels to say. "It wasn't even about her gender, really, but I could read between the lines, you know? And I wanted her to know that even if she couldn't say it, I still saw her, and that her being who she was isn't a bad thing. I guess… we never really got to finish that conversation? Maybe things would have been different if I'd gotten the chance to say more. But I didn't. And then she told me—she told me everything she said was just a joke and I was stupid for believing it."

"Yeah." Zooble sighs. "Sounds like Jax. One time, we asked what her life was like before this, and she just started explaining the plot of Breaking Bad like she was Walter White. Remember that when you meet Rhinelander."

Ribbit laughs. Honestly, she would have loved to see Jax joke like that. At least that was an obvious attempt at misdirection. She could handle being told to fuck off if it was funny. That was just stating boundaries.

"Obviously I knew she was full of shit," Ribbit continues. "And if she couldn't even acknowledge that the conversation we had was real, then I wanted to—I don't know. Do something so she'd know I still had her back. But after that, she just… didn't talk to me. Maybe we hung out a bit at first, but she'd avoid me on adventures. Make sure we never had a chance to talk one-on-one. I don't know how long it went on. I kept on trying to talk but it just got worse. I mean, I'm not stupid. I gave her space. I wasn't—it wasn't like I was begging her every day to come talk to me. And there's only so much rejection I could take. It really hurt, every time she pushed me away. I needed some time away from her, just to take care of myself. But eventually, I got fed up enough with everything that I confronted her and she…"

Ribbit sucks in a breath. How could they possibly make Zooble understand how much pain they'd been in, when they hadn't even realized themself until it was too late? How could they talk about standing on that snowy hill, looking out at the great expanse of white nothingness and realizing that all of the work they'd put in—every time they reached out, knowing that a conversation with Jax was like walking deeper into boiling water—all of that was for nothing. Because Ribbit meant nothing.

"She told me we weren't friends," Ribbit finishes. "And I just—I don't know. I guess after that, I just didn't see the point in trying anymore."

Zooble nods.

"I'm sorry," they say. "She sucked."

Ribbit laughs. They like how Zooble says it. Like there's no room for doubt. Jax did a bad thing and it was terrible and that's all there is to it. Zooble doesn't try and water down the statement with a "But she was scared," or "but you loved her" like Ribbit would have. Maybe to Zooble, none of that matters.

"Don't know if anyone's told you, but I've got a bar here," Zooble says. "You look like you could use a drink."

"Never got to drink that much before this," Ribbit replies. "Didn't know anyone cool enough to sneak me beer when I was underage and I didn't have a lot of cash after."

Too many bills to pay. That was the problem with moving out the way they had—the only jobs they were qualified for paid like shit. They'd bought themselves a bottle of cheap wine to celebrate their twenty-first birthday, but they didn't really have anyone they wanted to celebrate with, so it had just turned into them trying to chug the bottle in one go because they were exhausted by being a person and it was an easy victory. And that was the point of leaving home, right? So that they could be free to make their own bad decisions, even if it left them with a killer headache the next day.

"Well." Zooble shrugs. "If you need help figuring out what you like, I've got time."

Ribbit is about three drinks in when she remembers about the mural.

"The thing is," she says, waving a hand wildly. "If I'd been the one that lived through this, I'd have done the same, you know? Like Kaufmo—he's a good guy. He deserves to be remembered. Hell, you should have tried to save him instead of me. I'm just—I'm just some a stupid frog. You shouldn't—I didn't do anything to be put up there. I wasn't even nice."

Wordlessly, Zooble slides Ribbit a cup of water. Ribbit takes a sip.

"You're up there with Jax," Zooble says. "It's not about being nice. It's about being a person and deserving better than what you got."

"You don't even know me." Ribbit snorts. "I didn't even get tortured by Caine! He liked me! At least Kaufmo abstracted because he got too in his head about finding an exit. I just—couldn't handle being alone. A friend needed space, and instead of giving that to her, I just—"

Ribbit lets their forehead hit the bar.

"I think what happened with Jax was a bit more than needing space," Zooble says gently. As if they even knew anything about what happened. Pomni knew, because she had seen it in a room in Jax's mind, and she wanted to be honest about that. Because Ribbit had never consented to a stranger learning about her trauma and turning that into a secret would just make the past hurt worse.

Pomni promised she wouldn't say anything. She'd mentioned that Jax had felt guilty for her death back when they were both still abstractions, just to give the others context for Jax's suicide, but nothing else. Which meant all the details Zooble knew was from the conversation they just had. And if that was enough to pick out who the victim was, then why the fuck did Kaufmo or Ragatha, the ones who had lived it, never figure it out?

Maybe Zooble had been the wrong person to talk to after all. Maybe they wanted Jax to be the villain. Or maybe Ribbit had gotten good at manipulating people into seeing her as completely innocent. Ribbit doesn't know. Being the victim here feels almost as bad as blaming themself does.

"I should have been able to handle it," Ribbit mumbles. "I moved to a different state at nineteen where I only knew one person 'cuz she said I could sleep on her couch as long as I needed to till I could afford to rent a place of my own. I moved in with a coworker after that. I wasn't even that close to either of them. I'm just saying—I've been alone before. I don't know why it was so much harder when all I had to deal with was avoiding one stupid rabbit."

"I don't know," Zooble says. "It kind of sounds to me like that sucked, too."

"I guess." Ribbit shrugs, head still down. It had taken them ages to track down Elizabeth. She'd left the church two years before Ribbit had and Ribbit couldn't even get her parents to say her name. She hadn't even been able to get Lizzy letters from her younger sisters, either, because they had been so vehement on not speaking to a "traitor." "Better than staying home, though."

Ribbit lifts her head up.

"I love my parents," she says suddenly.

"Um, okay," Zooble says, clearly wondering why the hell Ribbit is telling them this.

"They weren't bad people," Ribbit insists. "I wasn't allowed to drink tea or coffee, but they always made me dirty sodas if I needed energy. When I turned eighteen, my mom made me this huge cake even though it was just her, me, my dad, and my little brother. But we didn't really get a chance to celebrate, cuz then my parents started talking about how it was almost time for me to do a mission trip and how they hoped I'd find a nice young man to marry while I was there, and—"

Ribbit sighs.

"And I did something stupid," they admit. "Because I wanted them to know how much I hated the future they planned for me. But that didn't… That didn't stop them from wanting me to do it. They just… told me they loved me. And that we would get through it together if we prayed."

Jax had seen the scene play out through Ribbit's eyes. It had been such an essential part of what killed Ribbit that there was no path to her that didn't pass through the memory of that day. The relief she had felt when her mom embraced her in the hospital. The way it had so quickly been replaced by cold dread when she realized that she had to get away from them before their love killed her. She had to have that talk with her bishop in person, because once he told their parents, there would be no going back. No one would come to find her and tell her what a mistake she was making. No one would come bring her home.

She would live without them, or die trying.

"I don't know if that counts as love," Zooble says slowly. Ribbit shrugs.

"I think it does," she says, taking another sip of water. "It just wasn't enough."

They wake up with a hangover and a newfound sense of empathy for Jax. It is, unfortunately, kind of cringe to overshare like that. But Ribbit will prove to be a better person than Jax, because they'll leave their room and face Zooble and be completely normal about it.

… Or maybe they'll go to the beach instead.

But they will talk to Zooble! Just—later.

Pomni's at the beach with a rabbit that looks like Jax, but is expressing way too much childish glee at building a sandcastle to be the one Ribbit knows. When the rabbit sees Ribbit, she bounces over to her so fast she knocks down her sandcastle, then squeezes Ribbit into a tight hug.

"Hi!" the rabbit says. "You don't know me yet! I'm Rhinelander! Do you want to play with me?"

"Personal space, Rhiney," Pomni says. Rhinelander puts Ribbit down and bounces a few inches back.

"Can we play something quietly?" Ribbit winces. "I kind of have a hangover."

"Do you need me to kiss it better?" Rhinelander asks seriously.

"Does that work?" Ribbit laughs.

"Technically, you're only hungover because you think you should be," Pomni replies. "So, maybe?"

Rhinelander takes this as a sign to offer a very chaste kiss on Ribbit's head.

"I do feel a little better," Ribbit admits. Rhinelander's eyes light up.

"I'm a very helpful rabbit," she tells Pomni. Pomni smiles, amused.

"You are," she agrees. "Good girl."

Rhinelander thumps her foot a few times. Oh! Like a rabbit. Damn, that's cute.

Ribbit is certain they've never seen Jax act like this. They'd gotten the sense from Blanc that they'd been trying to be quiet about being a system when they first entered the circus, but that just meant that the person Ribbit thought of as Jax was really all of them. And they remember Blanc, kind of. There'd been days where someone would say the wrong thing, and Jax would freeze for a moment, then suddenly return, overconfident and spiteful. There'd even been moments where Ribbit had scolded her for cruelty that she seemed to genuinely not remember. That had been part of why they had pushed so hard at the beginning. Even if they hadn't realized how different the rabbits were, she had still been hoping to find the "reasonable Jax." Not that she knows who that would be yet, if there even is one.

"So…" Ribbit says. "You say I don't know you?"

"I was born while you were dying," Rhinelander says, in the same pleasant tone she's been saying everything. "So we didn't get a chance to play much. But Jax loves you so I do, too!"

Ribbit looks at Pomni, who grimaces.

"Rhinelander's not the best at getting her thoughts in order," Pomni says.

"I said all the important things!" Rhinelander protests, pouting like a child. "I'm gonna do my apology, too! But we have to have a very special episode first."

"I thought we agreed that the new season hasn't started," Pomni says carefully.

"It's Ribbit," Rhinelander says. "They're a fan-favorite! We've got to test this episode out now, so we can use it later as a backdoor pilot and they can get a show of their own later."

"I always wanted to be a star," Ribbit jokes, then realizes this probably isn't behavior they should be encouraging. "Hey, kid, want me to help fix your sandcastle?"

Rhinelander looks down at their crushed remains of a castle and gasps.

"When did that happen?" she asks. She smacks the side of her head in surprise. "Now I have to start over!"

Ribbit looks at Pomni, who doesn't move from her beach chair. It occurs to Ribbit that she's watching over Rhinelander like a parent hoping her child uses enough of her energy to tire herself out. Of course, that might just be because Rhinelander is clearly completely delusional. The reasons why she might need a caretaker are already plain to see.

"Hey, Rhinelander?" Ribbit asks. They walk over to the mess of sand that was the sandcastle, which Rhinelander is already trying to scoop into a bucket. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-two." Rhinelander rolls her eyes. "You know that."

"You don't have to be twenty-two just because Jax is twenty-two," Ribbit says. Rhinelander tilts her head. "Or… You don't have to be just twenty-two?"

Rhinelander giggles.

"That's okay," she says. "Cartoon characters age a bit differently, anyway. Twenty-two just looks like this for me."

Ribbit shrugs. Makes sense. Or—makes enough sense, at least. Maybe to Rhinelander, twenty-two is still a child.

"So, tell me about yourself," Ribbit says. "You got any hobbies I don't know about?"

"I dunno!" Rhinelander says. "I like adventures. But I always need an adventure buddy, because otherwise I get lost in the maps. Caine says I don't play well with his toys when I'm on my own, but when I'm with Pomni we all have fun!"

"You made that cooking show adventure a while back, too," Pomni reminds Rhinelander with a smile. "We all had a lot of fun with that. Even if my soup didn't turn out so well."

"You forgot to add the part that makes it taste good," Rhinelander tells her. Pomni snorts.

"I'm not a good cook!" she exclaims. "I thought it'd be an easy way to get in all my ingredients. I didn't mind losing a few points for lack of creativity."

"You… made your own adventure?" Ribbit frowns.

"Oh, yeah," Pomni says. "It's a new thing we do now. Usually Caine helps with the finer details or making any NPCs, but considering we all can conjure now I guess it just…. made sense that we'd start doing some ourselves? I think Kinger suggested it after Gangle did a few DnD nights."

"I wouldn't know," Rhinelander says. She turns to Ribbit. "I was busy being dead."

Ribbit laughs and flops down on the sand next to the rabbit.

"Shoot, me too," she says. Even if Rhinelander doesn't see herself as a child exactly, swearing around her feels strange. "Weird how much things can change when you take a dirt nap, huh?"

Rhinelander nods furiously.

"When we left the show, the world was all gray and boring," she says. "So we knew it had to be almost over, because you can't be a cartoon without colors. The Powerpuff Girls had an episode on it and everything! The credits were rolling and the colors weren't coming back so we thought that meant everything was over for good. But then Pomni brought us back and everything was colorful again and the world got so much bigger!"

"Caine, uh, dying temporarily affected the circus," Pomni explains. "The ground started to literally crumble beneath us. We had to learn how to conjure to fix that. It was… maybe not the best circumstances to learn, but it gave us something to focus on that wasn't, uh—being stuck in a computer. But Jax never, uh… she didn't get too involved."

"Of course she didn't," Rhinelander says. "Comic relief characters aren't meant to save anyone."

Pomni glances at Ribbit, but says nothing.

"I like how many things there are to do now," Rhinelander says. "I don't really need to plan on doing anything. I just go where the script takes me and I have fun."

Ribbit is starting to understand why Zooble mentioned Rhinelander by name. "The script" seems like a kinder version of Jax's "You actually believe that Hallmark crap?" and Ribbit can't help but wonder how deep the denial goes.

"I'm having fun with you right now," Ribbit says.

"Hooway!" Rhinelander grins. She starts digging with her paws near her newly constructed castle. "I'm going to make a moat now. Can you get me some seashells to decorate with, pretty please?"

It's strange hearing a "please" from someone with Jax's face, even if Rhinelander sounds kind of different. Rhinelander's voice is light-hearted and cartoonish, like everything around her is the funniest thing she's ever heard. In Ribbit's memories, Jax's voice is harsh in a way that leaves no room for argument. But at the same time, she remembers the soft way Jax spoke when they were alone—back when Jax had even allowed Ribbit to be alone with her—the gentle voice she couldn't imagine violence being attached to. When Jax had tried to hide her tears in Ribbit's room, Ribbit had thought she must have been mistaken about her mother. They couldn't imagine Jax having the strength to hurt someone in a way that might be irreversible.

Of course, Jax did a pretty good job of showing just how cruel she could be right after.

Ribbit goes to the start of the water to gather shells as Rhinelander chatters on about what she thinks are "the most fun" parts of the circus. So many of them are things from after Ribbit's time. Rhinelander had gotten eaten by a fudge monster and had been chased by a snowball down a mountain. Rhinelander was given a hammer and used it for pest control in a garden.

"Sounds like you've been busy," Ribbit says. She tosses a few shells down near Rhinelander, who starts arranging them around her castle.

"I'm really lucky," Rhinelander says. "Everyone here knows what I need to be happy."

"That does sound pretty lucky," Ribbit agrees. "I would have killed to pick and choose which adventures I wanted to go on."

"I remember when you were sad there were too many NPCs," Rhinelander says, voice suddenly soft. Ribbit freezes.

That had been true, kind of. There were only so many times you could interact with a fake person before you started to think, "So this is all I have for the rest of eternity."

You couldn't make friends with an NPC, not really, unless you were in the mood to act out 50 First Dates. Nothing you said to them mattered. It was basically the same thing as being alone. Talking to them was like talking to yourself, but with extra steps. The more realistic they were, the worse it felt. Maybe that was why Jax had started being such a bitch to them when Ribbit was around. Or maybe, the fact that Rhinelander remembered it meant it had been her doing? Except she'd also said that she'd never really met Ribbit before this. Admittedly, Ribbit doesn't know too much about this. They'd just acted like they did so Jax wouldn't feel weird.

"Yeah," Ribbit says, trying to sound casual. "Kind of stupid to put in the effort of introducing yourself to someone who's not going to remember your name. Guess that's why I started having Jax introduce me to them instead. You've got a lot of funny nicknames stored up in that head of yours. You remember any of them?"

"Lady Croakington." Rhinelander starts counting on her fingers. "Webbecca. Sir Tadpole. Pondthaniel. Kenneth."

"Kenneth?" Pomni repeats. She blushes. "Sorry, uh—I can leave if you need to talk privately."

"Nah." Ribbit shakes her head. "Adventures with Jax were my favorite part of being alive. These are good memories. I don't care who hears about them. Kenneth really made me laugh, too. I asked Jax about it, and she made some stupid joke about how I didn't like being trapped inside a box."

"It would be rude to force you into a binary naming system, even if it is something as cool as frog puns," Rhinelander agrees. Ribbit snorts.

"Yeah," they said. "Something like that."

They had really liked the nicknames, as stupid as they were. It was a reminder that none of it was real, but in a fun way, like having someone set their name as "ASS" on an arcade game. It was a temporary escape from reality, where everyone important knew the real you, and everyone else would just be in awe of ASS the pinball champion. You could still be a person outside of the games you played.

"I think my favorite one was that party where Jax introduced us as Hopper and Rabbitha," Ribbit says. "And I was supposed to be Rabbitha, but everyone kept mixing us up, so we decided that our full names were Rabbitha Hopper and Hopper Rabbitha, just to be even bigger jerks."

It had been undeniably eggy behavior on Jax's part, though Ribbit honestly hadn't thought much of it at first. They'd thought the idea of a frog named Rabbit was hilarious, and would have went along with it even if they hadn't seen the way Jax's eyes light up when one of the NPCs confused the two of them.

"It sounds like you guys had a lot of fun together," Pomni says.

"You were the first person here to make us laugh," Rhinelander says. "So we wanted you to laugh, too."

Ribbit winces. It's hard for her to admit, even now, but living in the circus had taken a toll on her long before Jax's betrayal.

"Was I that obvious?"

"Well, we were watching you," Rhinelander says, completely unashamed to be admitting something so earnest. "So we could see your smile was slipping. We thought… maybe if you were laughing, you wouldn't keep thinking of sad things."

Ribbit sighs and pats Rhinelander on the head, sitting down besides her.

"Hard to get closure when you can't talk about what's bugging you," Ribbit says. "But it did help for a little. So thanks for that."

"We were supposed to try harder," Rhinelander says. "If the comic relief character's making someone sad, then they're not doing their job. But you knew about Leeroy, and that meant we couldn't be a cartoon, but if we're not a cartoon, that means we're real, and that's just not right. So I had to find a way to edit the script to bring myself into the show. And that meant taking out you. Even though you were supposed to be one of the protagonists, too."

"So it was either me or you, huh?" Ribbit asks. It's hard to follow what Rhinelander says, but they think they have the gist of it down—that her delusion wouldn't allow her to recognize Ribbit as a real person. Ribbit's not so sure if they're allowed to ask for an apology for that.

"But it shouldn't have been," Rhinelander protests. "I can be a grown-up, too! I can think for myself. I hurt you, and Blanc said that was okay because you were going to hurt us, too, and Jax told me to keep going because she was scared of what would happen next and I made her forget that she made a secret promise to herself, that she was going to keep you smiling for as long as she lived because she wanted to spend forever with you. She forgot that, and it was my fault, because the episode flowed better if you were just the villain but you never were."

Rhinelander sniffs. Ribbit looks down at the sand. They don't know how to respond to that.

"You made me feel like a bad person," Ribbit says.

"It was the only archetype we could make fit," Rhinelander says. "We didn't know good people were allowed to look at us. We got scared. But you are a good person! You're probably one of the best. We just didn't know what that looked like before we met you and—and I'm sorry it took us so long to learn! But we know now. And we won't forget. So we won't ever do anything like that again."

Ribbit grabs a fistful of sand in their hand, then opens their palm and watches it fall.

"That's a pretty good apology," she says. "Appreciate it."

Ribbit doesn't say anything about forgiveness. Rhinelander doesn't ask for it, either. As childish as she is, it looks like she knows how to read the room enough to know better than that.

One of the first things Jax had said when she found Ribbit's ghost was, "I didn't know you had a brother."

It had made Ribbit laugh. They'd been standing in a small land mass in the middle of a half-sunken maze. They hadn't remembered they'd had a physical form until they'd realized Jax needed something to look at, and once they had, they'd found themself leaning on a tree with glowing star-shaped fruit.

"Um, yeah," Ribbit said. "You didn't give me a chance."

At least Jax had looked properly guilty about that.

"I always figured I'd see him again," Ribbit said. "I mean… he ate up our parents bullshit, but so did I, and I got out. Kind of hoped he would follow me. I left a note so he'd know how to contact me, but…"

Ribbit shrugged.

"Never heard from him again."

And they never would.

"You have hair now," Ribbit said. Back when Jax had been traveling through their memories to find them, her model had kept switching from the one Ribbit had known to the one she had now. Ribbit had been too caught up in the dream-like nature of everything to question which one was real, but the new look wasn't exactly a surprise, either.

Well, Ribbit thought. At least she can't accuse me of blackmailing it out of her or something.

Jax touched a hand to her head, as if she'd forgotten how extreme her change in style had been since Ribbit had seen her last.

"Um, yeah," Jax said. "I kind of abstracted after you, but this really annoying girl brought me back. Turns out, it's really hard to repress shit once you make a big statement about still wanting to live. So… I'm a girl now. Everyone knows."

"Congratulations," Ribbit said. They could see Jax was searching their face for a hint of sarcasm, but they did mean it. Didn't mean they weren't also a little bitter they had to die for Jax to come to terms with it. Having another trans person come out of the closet is always a good thing. Even if that trans person is someone Ribbit still wanted to strangle.

"Will you believe me if I say I'm sorry?" Jax asked. There was something reassuring about how desperately she had said it. Like she already knew she hadn't done enough of the work to earn any forgiveness. Like Ribbit was the one in control of the situation now, and if they never wanted to hear Jax speak ever again Jax really might respect that wish.

"Probably not," Ribbit admitted. "But I think I'd like to hear it anyway."

Jax took a deep breath.

"You were the best part of my life," she said. "And I didn't know how to handle that. I got too caught up in my own bullshit and I hurt you. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. I have spent every day since you've been gone regretting what I did. I—I knew I was hurting you, but I convinced myself that I'd been so terrible you that an apology wouldn't be worth it. I burned the bridge myself because I was afraid you might do it instead. And I just… I let myself drift further. I should have thought about what this must have felt like from you, but I was so caught up in my own head I didn't see it. I never wanted you to be alone, Ribs. You deserve to be surrounded with friends for the rest of your life. If I could do this all over again, I'd find a way to make sure of that."

It was a pretty speech. Ribbit wished it was enough to make any kind of difference.

"You say that now," Ribbit said. "But I think we both know it won't take that long for you to get tired of me again."

Ribbit is learning how to play poker with Zooble when Ragatha walks in with Sable. She's clutching onto Ragatha's arm in a way that reminds Ribbit of a child trying to hide behind her mother.

"Hey Sable," Zooble says, in a very gentle tone Ribbit knows they don't use with Jax. "Having a good day?"

Sable gives a shaky nod. She's got a flower-printed bandana holding her hair back, flattening her ears and pushing them one to each side. The way they droop makes her look extra sad, and for a second, it makes Ribbit unreasonably angry that a girl this terrified and pathetic exists in someone that has caused them so much pain. She's too afraid to even look at them.

Or maybe it's just that she's too guilty. Ribbit is too tired after a life-time of trying to search through Jax's feelings to try and guess which one it is now.

"I-I w-wanted to introduce myself," Sable says, still clinging tight to Ragatha. "Y-You probably don't r-remember me, but m-my name is Sable. I like playing the piano and w-watching anime. I r-r-really liked hanging out in your room, because it made me feel less scared in the dark."

Ribbit finds it hard to imagine any version of Jax afraid of the dark, much less admitting to it. They think she might've even made fun of them for having the star projector in their room because she had thought that it meant they couldn't stand to sleep with the light off. Maybe that had been projecting.

"I was really scared when I got here," Sable continues, speaking so softly Ribbit almost can't even hear her. "I cried in my room for hours that first night. B-But you made me feel like everything was going to be okay. I-I'm sorry I let the others ignore you. I thought—I thought it was mean, but I didn't stop them. I sh—I should have been braver for you."

With that, she releases Ragatha's arm and runs off in the direction of their rooms.

Still not that brave, Ribbit thinks, then immediately scolds herself for being mean.

"It's not you," Zooble tells Ribbit. "She's just the kind of girl who kind of assumes everyone wants to hurt her."

Ribbit just nods. That part of Jax, she's well aware of.

Jax had been almost casual when she'd first appeared in the circus, but she'd started freaking out once the reality of her situation hit. She'd done what they'd all done and grabbed her face, tugging on her face, her ears, and smacking her eyes looking for a headset she'd never get off, until she finally took a step back and immediately tripped over her own feet.

She hadn't let any of the others help her up. When they reached for her, she'd started crawling backwards at an alarming speed, to the point that Ragatha had been the one to suggest they give her space.

Ribbit had volunteered to stay behind while the others went on to distract Caine long enough that he wouldn't immediately throw Jax into an adventure and make the freak-out worse. They sat underneath the stage while Jax hid in the curtains and tossed their bow in the air as they waited.

It took kind of a while for Jax to walk out. Long enough that Kaufmo had to drag Caine away from the stage. He'd really taken one for the team, asking Caine to teach him how to juggle to distract him. Finally, Ribbit had gotten up to stretch her legs when she'd heard Jax's voice from behind her.

"Oh," Jax said. "You're still here."

"Yup." Ribbit turned around to grin at her. "Sorry, but this isn't just a really messed up dream."

"Actually, I was hoping it was a hallucination." Jax snorted. She didn't seem scared anymore, which Ribbit took as a good sign, though there was a bitterness to her that hadn't been there before and it made her look like she was going to go off on someone for poor service at a restaurant. It was a bit funny, honestly. They really wanted to see what she said when they introduced her to Caine.

"If I'm just a hallucination," Ribbit said. "Then thanks for making me such a cute frog."

Jax's mouth quirked upwards momentarily, then returned to its scowl, but that was fine with Ribbit. It would just make it all the more rewarding when they actually got her to laugh.

It feels like this—

You're with some kids your age from your church because you all volunteered to help clean up the park on your weekend. The other kids have fallen into a conversation about a topic you don't really care about, and you're not sure how to make your presence known, so you've started lagging behind. Eventually, you stop walking altogether.

Would they even notice, you wonder, if you just stayed here? You feel invisible enough that you could leave and none of them would even bother to scold you about pushing the work on them, because they've already forgotten you're supposed to be helping out with them. You know it's bad that you think this, because you're supposed to be doing this because you care about your community, not because of some selfish desire to be praised, but that's nothing more than another one of many reasons you're not getting into heaven, anyway.

Then someone calls your name and asks where you've gone, so you know you're significant enough for someone to miss you, and you realize that's all you need. So you shake off your bad thoughts and go to find your friend.

Before everything fell apart, there had been times where it had seemed like Jax had been desperate for Ribbit's approval. Times where it had felt like Jax was afraid if she didn't do what Ribbit asked, Ribbit would abandon her where she stood.

That had been one of the reasons Ribbit had made such a big deal about sticking with Jax on adventures at the start. It was clear the rabbit was more sensitive to rejection than she wanted to let on. They hadn't thought much of it, even though it had been noticeable enough that Kaufmo saw it, too—though he thought it was probably fine, because, really, whom among them didn't have some kind of trauma they should be better about dealing with?—but in retrospect, maybe Ribbit should have known better than to ask Jax if she trusted them like that. It wasn't that Jax overshared—honestly, Ribbit hadn't expected her to open up so fast—usually she said nothing, and that was what had worried Ribbit. But through it all, no matter how kind or cruel Jax had been, she had always been suspicious that the hand Ribbit had offered them would disappear soon. It was only a matter of time before that caused her to react poorly to something.

Ribbit had been putting the pieces together, basically. And the picture she was getting looked familiar and uncomfortable. Something had to be done about it, she thought. She could see the hints of a vulnerable girl hiding underneath Jax's playful teasing and shoulder punches. She could see the way Jax curled in on herself when she thought no one was around. Like she was trying to take up as little space as possible. Like maybe she had found the circus because she had been looking for a way to disappear.

Ribbit had just wanted her to know she wasn't alone.

So no, Ribbit doesn't talk to Sable much. They'd already been punished enough for trying to befriend her in the first place.

(Now that they think about it, maybe Sable hadn't run because she'd been scared. Maybe she'd run off because she knew Ribbit would be.

Is it stupid, she wonders, to get upset at someone for knowing you well enough to keep you safe?)

Caine tells Ribbit her brother's name is Owen. He finds a picture of them making stupid faces together online and it occurs to Ribbit they'll never know what happened in between. Maybe he resented her for leaving, and things were still awkward, but he missed her too much to stay away. Maybe he understood why they left and was angry at himself for not leaving sooner. There was a whole life story missing in the images Caine had found for them. Ribbit supposes they'll just have to find a way to be okay with that.

Ragatha says she understands. She's got two younger sisters, and she sees them on Suzie's social media sometimes, though they hadn't been talking when she was the one living out in the macroverse.

"If it helps," Ragatha says. "I didn't resent them for leaving. I was just mad at myself I couldn't see a world where I went with them."

"I guess that's good to hear," Ribbit replies. "Not that I want you blaming yourself or anything."

They'd talked surprisingly little about their own family situations before Ribbit had died. Ribbit had always assumed that they were similar enough for their to be no need to. Ragatha had never told Ribbit she was a lesbian, but she hadn't hidden it, either and Ribbit knew how to read between the lines. It had always felt like an unspoken solidarity between them. There was nothing in the real world for them to come back to, not really, so they might as well make the most of the world they had. It was a shitty world, with more limitations than either of them would have liked, but it wasn't like you couldn't say that about before, too.

"Blame is a strong word," Ragatha says. "I guess it's more like… I knew I was getting in the way of my own happiness, but I couldn't figure out how to stop. I'm glad Suzie did what I couldn't—I mean I'm happy now! I just—"

"It's cool," Ribbit says. "I get it."

One thing about coming back to life is that it helped bring a few things into perspective. Ragatha had never been a particularly sad person when Ribbit had known her, but it was contentment, not happiness, that allowed others to avoid abstraction. Why fight for an exit when whatever you found on the other side might be worse?

Ragatha takes a long look at Ribbit before she responds.

"We can do anything here now," she says. "If there's anything you've ever wanted to do, or anything you missed from your life—we can find a way to make it. If you ever need any help conjuring, I can give you some lessons, too."

I miss who I used to be, Ribbit thinks.

"I dunno," Ribbit jokes. "Looks like the circus is getting pretty big. You sure you want me adding to that?"

Ragatha doesn't hide her look of disappointment fast enough for Ribbit not to catch what she's thinking.

Sorry, Doll, Ribbit thinks. Still too suicidal to imagine a future.

"It never hurts to think of something," Ragatha says brightly, because she's still being way too nice to Ribbit. "It's not like we'll run out of space!"

Ragatha uses this conversation as an excuse to show Ribbit her stables. The horses there are a strange mix of different objects. Some are made out of fabric like Ragatha herself while others are made out of candy. There's S'mores who has graham cracker knees and chocolate hooves, and a horse made out of a variety of peppermint circles named—unsurprisingly—Peppermint. The fabric horses are named Patches, Doily, and Lacey. All of them look like their names. While she's introducing them, Ragatha explains that she had tried to go for realism before, but the frame rate had been buggy and it was impossible to ride them because they kept crashing.

"I like them," Ribbit says. "They suit you."

Even the land around the horses have the same cute aesthetic. Instead of a wooden fence, the horses are surrounded by lengths of pretzel keeping them in. The grass is made out of a mixture of gumdrops and embroidery. It reminds Ribbit of something from a Strawberry Shortcake cartoon.

"I can teach you how to ride?" Ragatha offers. "I'm working on making chickens, too, but I feel like they turn out too nice. It just feels too unrealistic."

"So this is just the start?" Ribbit asks. "You're going to make a whole farm?"

"If I can get the code right," Ragatha replies. "NPCs are more tricky than just making things. Caine even had to make my candy tomatoes for me because I couldn't get the growth cycle right."

"And when you say candy I assume you mean that literally?" Ribbit raises an eyebrow. Ragatha giggles.

"That was Caine's idea, actually," she says. "He thought I might want to keep on theme. But there's plenty of room if you've got any suggestions?"

Ribbit tries to remember what their favorite candy had been as a human. That's an easy way to show Ragatha they're willing to be present in their own life, right? They can pretend to be a person with desires for a question like this. Ribbit remembers they used to compete with their brother about how many marshmallows they could shove inside their mouth, but marshmallows just makes them think of hot chocolate and hanging out with Jax and Kaufmo and suddenly the idea of asking Ragatha to plant a marshmallow tree makes Ribbit feel sick.

"You should add gummy worms to the soil," Ribbit says instead. Ragatha laughs.

Jax comes to find them while Ribbit is helping Ragatha feed her horses.

"Got you doing physical labor, huh?" Jax says, leaning lazily against the stable door. "When are people going to realize that exercise doesn't actually make anyone less depressed?"

"Exercise gives you endorphins, dumbass," Ribbit says. It's not as playful as she might have said it before, but it's not cruel, either.

"Why would I need dolphins?" Jax asks. "I'm a rabbit."

Ribbit rolls her eyes as visibly as she physically can.

"Why does this have to be about anything?" Ragatha protests. "I just like how it feels when I complete a task."

Because feeding horses is an easy thing you can control, unlike your parents' reactions to you coming out, or who will stand by you when you leave home or anything else like that.

"You're such a farm girl." Jax clicks her tongue. "You can do anything in the world, and you give yourself chores."

"You know that's not all I do." Ragatha rolls her eyes. "But if you think I spend too much time on chores, I could always stop pruning my Red Vines…"

"That's okay," Jax shoots back. "I'll just prune 'em myself. You know, with my mouth."

She gives an exaggerated chomp to illustrate her point. Ragatha giggles.

It's weird seeing the two of them as friends. Which is a funny thing to say, because Ribbit's never known them as anything but. Except, Ragatha never thought that Jax would bring Ribbit back because Jax had made her promise never to mention Ribbit's name again, and when Ragatha had admitted that, in the quiet of the late night, Ribbit could feel all the resentment that had been built behind it. But maybe Ragatha is like Ribbit in that way—that it has always been just as easy to love Jax as it is to hate her. Ribbit thinks maybe they would be less mad at Jax if they could forget the way she used to make her laugh.

Jax meets Ribbit's eyes.

"I wanted to, uh, warn you," Jax says. "There's one last person that wants to apologize. But he's kind of a jerk."

"You're letting her meet Lop?" Ragatha frowns. "Are you really sure that's—"

"He needs to apologize," Jax interrupts. "I can't do that for him, can I? That doesn't count."

Ragatha's lip press together as she looks from Jax to Ribbit.

"I've seen Jax be a jerk before," Ribbit says. Ragatha and Jax both raise an eyebrow at them as if to say, "And how well did that go for you?" "Look, you can't just bring me back and start keeping things from me. If I'm going to live, I'd like to actually make my own decisions."

It's a bit of an ironic thing to say, since they're not sure how much they actually want to live, but no one calls them out on it. They want their damn apology. After everything, don't they deserve that much?

"Right." Ragatha hesitates. "Of course. I just… Lop isn't really… good. At apologies. Or, um. Talking to people. Are you sure you'd ready?"

Ribbit thinks of Jax with a blank face and a cold voice saying, "Okay. And why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know," Ribbit admits. It comes out more fragile than she'd like.

"Well, hey," Jax says, trying to keep her voice light. "Neither am I. So at least that makes two of us."

It takes kind of a while for Lop to actually get around to meeting Ribbit. Ribbit's not sure if it's because they admitted they weren't ready, or because Jax said she wasn't either, but the others keep them busy enough that they almost forget about it.

Kinger keeps on asking Ribbit about her feelings, and Ribbit keeps on finding different ways to avoid answering. They all want to know how she managed to do the impossible, and Ribbit would argue she hasn't, really, but second place is still usually a big enough deal to get a prize, especially when it's coming back from the dead. Either she's special, or Jax is, or what Jax said to her was. And there's no way anyone thinks its Jax herself that fixed them, because Ribbit and Jax still don't talk that much. Ribbit goes on adventures with everyone—partially because Ragatha keeps giving her a look like she's at risk anytime she says she's not in the mood—but any time there's a reason for a team up, Jax and Ribbit wordlessly look at each other and then turn the other way. Ribbit doesn't know how to explain it. What are you supposed to say, when you trusted someone to guide you back from death but hanging out with them still feels too soon?

Maybe a part of it is Ribbit doesn't know how she fits in to this anymore. She learns how to conjure clothes with Ragatha and Gangle, and the Jax they talk about is someone Ribbit doesn't know. The Jax Ribbit had befriended hadn't been loudly obnoxious and she'd certainly never been physically violent, either—Ribbit thinks they'll never stop being surprised at who Jax had become without her.

The Jax Ribbit had loved was a prankster. She had teased playfully, but only one Ribbit had started to pull her out of her shell, and knew when to end a joke. When she was loud, it was usually a joyous thing, because it was such a difference from the wary girl who joined the circus that Ribbit always took it as a victory. Even when Jax began avoiding her, she'd only really shouted at Ribbit at the end. Mostly, Ribbit thought of Jax as a quiet person. It was just that she'd been able to say the few words she chose with enough bite to make Ribbit bleed.

Anyway, Ribbit is trying to win at an obviously rigged ring toss game when they meet Lop. Everyone's still a bit scared to leave them alone, so Ragatha and Pomni are off struggling with a different game, but they head in the direction of the Ferris wheel when Lop approaches. Ribbit pretends not to notice the obvious attempt at giving them space.

Lop is dressed in black pants and what might be a t-shirt for a metal band that's clearly pulled from a half-remembered memory because the words in the logo are complete nonsense. There's a spiked headband holding his hair back. He doesn't interrupt Ribbit's game. Instead he just walks up to them slowly, and waits until they're out of rings to introduce himself.

"My name is Lop," the rabbit says. "I'm the one who killed you."

"That's a pretty bold claim," Ribbit replies, tossing their final ring. "I mean, I'm still here, aren't I?"

Lop raises an eyebrow at her that in the most obvious non-verbal, "cut the bullshit," Ribbit has ever seen. It's enough to make Ribbit start laughing, because they recognize the furrow of his brow and the scowl on his face and it's the most familiar thing Ribbit's ever seen.

"I don't know why Ragatha was so freaked out about us talking," Ribbit says. "I met you on, like, day one, dude."

"What?" Lop's scowl deepens. "No you didn't."

But he's saying it just to be contrary, Ribbit knows. The Jax they had first introduced themself to had been like that. Not outright mean, not at first, but definitely unimpressed with the company she was surrounded with and completely uninterested in changing her mind about them.

"Right." Ribbit snorts. "And you totally didn't steal me flowers from a wedding."

That had probably been one of the meaner things Ribbit had seen Jax do before the isolation. The entire wedding had been put on pause to find the bride's bouquet, and it had taken a few moments of dawning horror for Ribbit to realize that the flowers Jax had handed her only moments before were the ones everyone had been running around looking for.

"She was going to throw them anyway!" Jax had protested, looking so cartoonishly wounded Ribbit couldn't help but laugh, even though her actions had wound up the NPC bride so badly she'd been in hysterics by the time Ribbit handed the flowers back.

"Yeah, well." Lop blushes and looks away. "You deserved them more."

It's hard to be scared of him when he looks so shy. Ribbit is positive that he's right and that he is the one who killed her, but the familiarity is comforting enough that they almost want to forgive him. Not just yet, but… Well, maybe they're hoping for a good apology.

"Can I tell you something?" Ribbit asks. "I used to fantasize about someone ruining my wedding day."

Lop's head turns back towards them quickly. He blinks in silent confusion.

"You know how it is when you grow up being told your life will go a certain way, right?" Ribbit continues. "Get married, give the church all your money, find a way to afford some kids on the side, too… I heard it all my life and I hated it. Never occurred to me to just not get married. Not until, like, my late teens. Like, really late. I mean, growing up… No one was really giving me that option. It's pretty much a requirement to get into the best parts of heaven. But even knowing that, I couldn't make myself want it, so, naturally, I had to find a way to make my husband leave me at the altar instead."

"I can think of ten different ways to ruin a wedding right now." Lop seems to brighten at the thought. "I'd steal your wedding dress. Replace it with a tux. Take all your other clothes so you'd have no choice but to go out in the suit."

"That would be awesome," Ribbit agrees. "Everyone would be yelling about how I was totally embarrassing myself and I'd be like, 'um excuse me? This is all I had in the room with me. If you really wanted me to embarrass myself I could have shown up naked.'"

"Or I could steal the rings," Lop offers. "I'd eat them for you, but I don't think any of us would enjoy getting our stomach pumped."

"Would it help if I held your hand?" Ribbit snickers. "I'm just thinking about the kind of fight I'd get in with my fiance about that. Maybe if I fawned over you enough during it, he'd accuse me of loving you more than him and call the whole thing off because of it."

"Always happy to use my suffering to increase the pain of others," Lop replies, deadpan. "Does that mean we get to keep the rings?"

Ribbit's face falls.

"You know," she says. "If you asked me before, I would have said yes. If you—If you'd stolen the rings for that NPC's wedding and given me one, I probably would have taken it. I used to really love who I was with you. You made me feel like I could conquer the world. And then you… I think you might have killed that part of me for good."

"I know," Lop says. His face is still hard to read. "I killed Kaufmo, too. I didn't learn my lesson after you. He asked for our help and… I called him crazy. I let him go. I didn't think it would make a difference. Maybe it wouldn't have. I was already planning on killing us before we entered the circus. You were the only reason we stuck around. I'd never—I don't think any of us would have known what to say to talk him down. But we… Well, who else did he have? Life wasn't the same without you."

"I still haven't visited him," Ribbit admits, looking down. She's been wondering, lately, if she'd failed them all by dying first. Ragatha hadn't been nearly so neurotic before. Jax had never taken out her emotions on anyone but Ribbit. Maybe the world needed her in pain to keep the balance. But she knows that really, that's just a lie she told herself to make the ways Lop tore her down hurt less. She should blame the church for that instinct of her's more than him, but he had been the one to feed it until it became strong enough to infect the rest of her.

Even with all of that, they're not afraid of him, though. Maybe that's a sign their self preservation didn't come back to life with the rest of them.

"Every time I've woken up, it's because there was something in our life I needed to push back against," Lop says. "Our mother used to get so angry at us for being cruel, but she was so much worse when we were kind. I was born because there needed to be someone in this body who wouldn't cry when she slapped our face. I told myself I wasn't doing anything wrong when I pushed her away, because she had been the one to make me into the kind of person who did that in the first place. Every time I was violent, it had felt like the path of least resistance. Somehow, it was the least harmful thing I could do. Until…"

Lop kneels slightly so he can look Ribbit in the eyes.

"There is nothing in my life I have done," he says. "That is as horrible as the way I hurt you."

There's something so terribly romantic about the way he says it that makes their chest ache. It's stupid and dramatic and it's exactly what Ribbit had always hoped he'd say, but they find themself shaking their head anyway.

"You hurt Gangle," Ribbit reminds him.

"But I never betrayed her." Lop's hand drifts towards Ribbit's, but he hesitates just shy of touching her. "You wanted me to be more than a weapon. I didn't know how to do that, so I reminded you of my limits instead. You made Jax believe in a better world and that made me angry, because if the world was better, there would be no point to me. I wish I'd just allowed myself to believe in that world with you. Instead, I killed the part of us that believed with you because I thought that was just another thing I was born to do."

It's a little funny, to hear the person who drove you to suicide talk about how much it hurt them, too. Selfishly, Ribbit's glad to hear it. At least they'd been important enough that their death had hurt him, too.

"Maybe it's not the healthiest way to go about it," Lop offers. "But if it makes me feel better, you can hit me."

He's so earnest about it that it surprises a laugh out of Ribbit.

"I don't want that," Ribbit says. "I just wanted you to say you're sorry."

"Okay," Lop says. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks and go fuck yourself," Ribbit replies. Lop doesn't seem surprised to hear it. He just nods, like Ribbit's vitriol is the most understandable thing in the world. But he doesn't leave.

It strikes Ribbit that he really would let them hurt him, if that's what they wanted. And not even just a punch. Lop would probably let them scream in his face if Ribbit says it was what he deserved. But Ribbit imagines that, and then thinks about Lop's mom and all the words she must have said that had made Jax run out of their room so quickly back before when they were friends and Ribbit realizes that they don't want to yell at Lop, either.

It would have been so much easier if Ribbit could hate Lop without complications. But the truth is that through everything that happened between them, not once had Ribbit seen Jax as her enemy. Even with all the time that's passed, how can she see Lop as one now? Someone doesn't automatically stop being your friend because they make a bunch of bad decisions.

Even if those bad decisions really, really hurt.

"You're one messed up rabbit," Ribbit says. "You know that, right?"

Lop raises an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, one?" he asks, and it's said more like a demand than a joke but it's funny so she laughs anyway. When she stops, Lop adds, "If you want to visit Kaufmo, we'll come with you."

Then he taps his paw to the ledge, making a new set of rings appear. He tosses one at the bottles and frowns as it clatters to the floor.

"You know," he says, to no one in particular. "There's such a thing as too much realism."

"Eh," Ribbit says. They remember them having this argument before, too. "Sometimes it's just nice to have something to do with your hands."

Maybe it's ironic, but what had actually convinced Ribbit to leave was that Jax offered to stay.

"Are you stupid?" Ribbit demanded, once they'd heard that. "You're going to just hang out in my dead body forever? What, you've got someone else you're trying to ignore out there now?"

"Hey," Jax snapped. She sat down, crossing her arms and legs. "I didn't say forever. I'm staying here for you. I'll go back to my life when you go back to your's."

"What if I never want to leave?"

Jax shrugged.

"You're kidding me." Ribbit shook her head in disbelief. "Seriously? And you want me to, what? Thank you for that?"

"I said I wasn't going to leave you alone, dipshit," Jax shot back. "What kind of apology would it be if I went back on my word already?"

"You're so—" Ribbit threw their hands in the air, frustrated. "You're an asshole. You know that, right? For months I beg you to talk to me, but suddenly now that I ask for space, you can't stand to stay away?"

"You didn't," Jax said.

"What?"

"You didn't ask for space," Jax clarified. "I'll go if you really want me to, but you have to ask. I'm only going to fuck off if you tell me to to my face."

All of Ribbit's energy fell away. They sat down next to Jax.

"I don't want to be alone," Ribbit admitted.

"Yeah." Jax nodded. "It kind of sucks to have nothing but your thoughts to keep you company, huh?"

"Stop knowing me so well, dumbass," Ribbit muttered, bringing their legs close to their chest. "I'm still mad at you."

"I'm not asking you to stop being angry, moron," Jax told them. "If I was you, I'd wake up every morning and tell me to go screw myself. But I don't want this to just be about me. Ragatha misses you, too, you know? And there's—there's things in the circus you'd like now. I don't want you to miss out on any adventures because you're stuck in here hating my guts."

"So you'd rather I hate your guts out there?" Ribbit raised an eyebrow. Jax looked her in the eyes.

"I'd rather you wake me up by punching me in the stomach every day," she said. "At least then I'd know you're alive."

"What if I want you to open up?" Ribbit demanded. "How do I know you won't flip out on me again?"

Jax winced.

"I want to say I won't," she said. "I've been getting worse at lying lately, too. One of those whole consequences of dying things I was talking about. But—fuck, I don't know. I know I can't promise to never lie to you again, because we both know that won't mean anything. All I can say is that there's someone out there who's helping keep me honest and I'd really like you to meet her. I think the two of you would get along really well. But you can't do that from in here. I'll apologize to you every day if you'll let me, but we both know it's not going to mean anything unless we get out."

Ribbit took a moment to process what they heard. The dreams of their life had turned the world outside into a maze to protect them from acknowledging their pain, but they had felt every turn Jax made, and every memory she had entered.

Jax hadn't left until the past-Ribbits she had met were happy, but she never had to. There were no locked doors in Ribbit's mind. Jax had stayed to talk to them simply because she had something to say.

Jax nudged them with her foot.

"If you hate it, you can always kill yourself again," she said. "Just stick around for a day or two so you can hear what I have to say first."

Ribbit laughed.

"Fine," they said. "I guess you're right. Not like I can't change my mind."

Ribbit and Jax sit in front of the aquarium tank with their hot chocolates. There's a third cup next to them, pressed up against the glass. One of the abstractions floats around near it, looking a bit like a cat stuck inside watching birds from a window. Ribbit kind of wants to push the cup around, just to see if it's eyes will move with it.

"Is Caine still asking you how you did it?" Ribbit asks.

"It's more Kinger than Caine." Jax winces. "I don't know. I feel bad not saying anything. I mean, his wife's in here, too. But I didn't want to get his hopes up in case you didn't… y'know. Stick around."

"I wasn't sure I would," Ribbit admits. "But… you promised me an apology. Besides, Ragatha's going to be really upset if I made her make all those worms and I don't even stay long enough to appreciate them."

"But she'll be regretting it soon." Jax snickers. "Kinger's got pretty much every bug on earth memorized. He's definitely going to convince her to add some more now."

"Well, obviously she's got to add candy bees." Ribbit scoffs. "Who's going to pollinate all of her candy tomatoes?"

"Very important to keeping a farm running." Jax nods. "I don't know. I feel like—like abstractions are my thing now. Everyone looks at me like I'm the key to all of this. How messed up is that?"

"You got me out," Ribbit reminds her.

"Just trying to correct the biggest mistake of my life." Jax looks down at her hot chocolate. "I would have gone back in a hundred times if that's what it took."

"Why did you go, though?" Ribbit asks. "I mean—why then? Why not make a plan, or—I don't know—tell Caine? How did you even get me out of the tank?"

"I don't know," Jax admits. "I just… I woke up and all I could think about was that I wanted to tell you how much I missed you, so I figured I might as well say it to your face. You were already out when I found you. It was like… you were waiting for me? I guess I thought that meant you were ready to hear what I had to say."

Ribbit hums in acknowledgement. They don't remember much about being an abstraction. They remember dying and going to a crowded dark place, and then being able to frolic freely and feeling relief. They remember the vague outside presence of others, like getting a kiss goodnight when you're already half asleep. They think they might even remember Jax visiting, and feeling happy about it. Well—maybe not happy, but at least content, which was still a big step up from what they had felt while alive.

"I think I might've just wanted a hug," Ribbit says. Jax snorts.

"Happy to help," she says. "I'm just glad you let me in."

"Isn't that my line?" Ribbit jokes. Jax snorts. Ribbit stares at the abstraction still floating by them. "I think… I don't know. Maybe there was some part of me that did want someone to convince me. You think he might be ready to hear something like that, too?"

"I don't know." Jax's ears droop. "I… I think you'd have better luck talking to him than I would."

"No reason we can't go together." Ribbit nudges her. "Maybe that's how we get Kinger off our backs—we fix everyone while he's not looking. Not the heroes this circus deserves, but the ones they need."

"Sure." Jax snorts. "We'll be the perfect team. Dumbass and moron, saving the world one abstraction at a time."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Ribbit jokes. "You've always been my favorite sidekick."

"Oh, there you guys are!" Pomni's voice startles them both out of their conversation. She's on the far end of the hall, but she's walking closer. "I was wondering if you both wanted to test out an adventure for me, but I can come back if you're busy."

Jax looks at Ribbit. They stand up and stretch their arms.

"Nah," Ribbit says. "I think we were just finishing up here for today. What've you got?"

Okay, but really.

Do you want to know how it feels?

Do you want to know the moment Ribbit really knew they had come back to life?

It was Jax, grabbing their hand in her's, because Ribbit had admitted they still weren't sure how to find the way out on their own.

"It's easy," Jax had said. "Just gotta retrace my steps."

And Ribbit had been scared, of course, because that meant going through it all again, but Jax's grip was so tight that they knew she would hold their hand through it all, so they ran through the labyrinth of Ribbit's mind together, watching all the ways Ribbit had hid from the world and all the ways the world tried to force them out, until suddenly Ribbit's a little kid sitting on the sidelines of the school soccer field because they'd been playing dodgeball in class and everyone thought it'd be funny to get her out first. She tried not to let it bother her, plucking petals from a flower to distract herself from the simple fact that maybe everyone could tell she was just made wrong. Then she lifted her head and realized there was a rabbit in pigtails laying in the shade beside her.

"This is boring," the rabbit announced. "We should play our own game."

And before Ribbit could even respond, she grabbed their hand and dragged them into the sun and they were running away laughing, until Ribbit finally felt brave enough to open their eyes and see the world outside the aquarium themself.

It is still so hard for them to imagine a world where they forgive Jax. But she still remembers how to be Ribbit's best friend, and that had been something worth waking up for, at least.