And she reaches back, accepts it for what it is, lets him comfort her before she leans down to kiss his little furry head.
"Good people can be angry too. In fact, a lot of time, being good means being angry."
She breathes in deep.
"I'm an FBI agent back home. That means, when there's a crime where the local police need our help, they call for us. And we go help them. My partner and I came to a place called Bright Falls in Washington state. And everything was as it should be as we started our investigation."
And out.
"Then, impossible things started happening. Corpses got up and attacked people. I had to do a ritual using a man's heart to walk through a portal in a tree. Shadows took the shape of people and were trying to kill us. It was... wild, but I still found it fascinating. It felt like the world was opening up so I could see the parts I'd never seen."
An FBI agent. He's heard the term before, in movies, seen it in books, but never took a particular interest in the acronym beyond what he needed to know for the story he was seeing.
One part of that does stick out to him--a portal in a tree. He can't help thinking of the tree in the common room on the eighth deck, the way it felt like it could go somewhere else entirely given the right circumstances. Regardless, his small black eyes are fixed on Saga while she talks. It makes sense to him, being fascinated by the world becoming an impossible thing.
"We found Alan on the shore of a lake," she says quietly, because now the story is taking a turn for the less pleasant, "but even before that there was another change that was happening: people knowing who I was in this town I'd never been to before. People telling me that they were sorry about what happened to my daughter."
She looks over at Edwin.
"I have a little girl named Logan. She's about fourteen. Her picture is over there on the mantel if you're curious. She gave me that mug I'm always drinking my coffee from."
The one that says 'Not the Worst Mom'.
"And as far as I knew, she was back at home, just fine, with my husband."
Oh. Oh, no. He already had suspicions about where this might be going, or where it could, and he gives Saga's palm what he hopes is seen as a comforting lick.
"First I got a call that she'd slipped in the shower. My husband was there, heard the thump, and he caught her before she drowned in there. It's a danger, believe it or not."
She keeps going, her eyes distant, a little pet for that lick.
"Then someone who'd never met me before was talking about me like we've known each other for years. He's telling me about my trailer in the trailer park down the road." She looks down at Edwin. "Like I said: I'd never been there before. I grew up across the country."
Unconsciously, her hand will start gently stroking down his back, trying to comfort him through the tension she's feeling.
"I went to see the trailer. It was filled with empty bottles, unpaid bills, my resignation from the FBI... and a newspaper talking about how my daughter had drowned in the lake some years ago."
She swallows.
"My partner believes it all. The people who lived in the town. The woman who worked at the retirement home.
"And the only other people who knew it wasn't real were two old men I'd never met who told me I was family, that a man named Tor was my grandfather."
He leans into the touch, thinking of Faroe. Definitely not fourteen, but that doesn't make it better, imagining her in Logan's place. He tries to imagine what it would be like to have everyone say that she drowned, that she died, that she was gone, and be the only one who knew it wasn't true. It's awful, and he's only her friend. He's barely met her.
"She is. I talked to her on the phone just before I came here." A breath out. "But for... for way too long, it wasn't a sure thing. Until about ten minutes before I came here, I wasn't sure if my daughter was alive, if my husband was still with me, or if my partner was going to die too."
"You know the man who came from my world? Alan?" She won't wait. "He's a writer. And he was in a place where his writing became reality. Even if it had to change someone's past."
She looks down at him.
"You know I'm different. That's why it doesn't work on me. That's why I knew the truth, that she hadn't drowned. But that didn't change how the world was. And if we hadn't changed the story, it would have stayed that way."
But she won't make him look her in the eyes. Instead, she'll gather him close and let her eyes close.
After a moment or two-
"He was trying to write himself out of the Dark Place. And I needed a backstory that fit his narrative, the narrative of a horror story. Horror stories only have monsters... and victims. So I couldn't be a hero. I couldn't just be someone trying to help people. I had to be a victim."
"I said the same. I told him that my daughter's life and my partner's life were non-negotiable."
Recognize that word, kiddo?
"I got him pulled around, helped him change the ending to fix things." A breath out. "But he hurt me. He hurt my little girl. He destroyed my life to make his story better."
A breath out.
"When he showed up, I was glad he was an inmate, because I think there are things he needs to learn, and... freedom he needs to earn with more than just a story using other people's lives."
Now she looks at him again.
"But I went to the Dark Place. I know what he was trapped in. I can accept that... when you're in the dark so long, it's hard to see the light. I want him to graduate."
I was glad he was an inmate, she says. He hunkers down a little in her palm at that, and when she looks at him, he rolls up into something that doesn't have eyes so he doesn't have to look at her through anything but extrasensory perception.
He himself looks a bit like a very small tribble with a tail.
His mental voice can't be muffled, really, but the sense of someone burying their face in a pillow is there.
He's just... waiting. Waiting for the comparison, or the reasons he shouldn't be upset with Charlie, because Charlie is Saga and Edwin is Alan, so therefore.
His ears are a little hard to find at first, but the more she doesn't say what he's expecting, the more he starts to unfold, bit by bit. He's still balled up in her palm, but he at least had an actual animal shape again.
That's okay. She'll keep going. He's getting thumb pets now.
"The trick is I'm not going to 'tell' him. I'm going to help him. And I think that when he remembers he can be a hero again, he won't keep trying to make you out to be the monster."
"And now, you're not. You started a new story. Your story. Edwin's story. Edwin's story is a redemption story. It's a story about learning. It's a story with love and growth and-" she peers at him gently," I bet it has heroes. Friends. Family. Community. It's a better story, right?"
He smushes his face against her palm, glad that sugar gliders can't cry. He assumes they can't anyway.
It is.
After a second:
Do I ever get to stop thinking about what I was before? I don't remember, my brother doesn't want me to remember, but I can't-- I'm not supposed to just be Edwin, either. I have to always know I was the King, and I did what he did, even if none of it feels real.
That, she needs a moment for, serious consideration for a serious topic.
"Your first story won't ever go away," she admits, "but the more volumes you add, the more stories you live, the less and less that first story will feel relevant."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Good people can be angry too. In fact, a lot of time, being good means being angry."
She breathes in deep.
"I'm an FBI agent back home. That means, when there's a crime where the local police need our help, they call for us. And we go help them. My partner and I came to a place called Bright Falls in Washington state. And everything was as it should be as we started our investigation."
And out.
"Then, impossible things started happening. Corpses got up and attacked people. I had to do a ritual using a man's heart to walk through a portal in a tree. Shadows took the shape of people and were trying to kill us. It was... wild, but I still found it fascinating. It felt like the world was opening up so I could see the parts I'd never seen."
no subject
One part of that does stick out to him--a portal in a tree. He can't help thinking of the tree in the common room on the eighth deck, the way it felt like it could go somewhere else entirely given the right circumstances. Regardless, his small black eyes are fixed on Saga while she talks. It makes sense to him, being fascinated by the world becoming an impossible thing.
no subject
She looks over at Edwin.
"I have a little girl named Logan. She's about fourteen. Her picture is over there on the mantel if you're curious. She gave me that mug I'm always drinking my coffee from."
The one that says 'Not the Worst Mom'.
"And as far as I knew, she was back at home, just fine, with my husband."
no subject
no subject
She keeps going, her eyes distant, a little pet for that lick.
"Then someone who'd never met me before was talking about me like we've known each other for years. He's telling me about my trailer in the trailer park down the road." She looks down at Edwin. "Like I said: I'd never been there before. I grew up across the country."
no subject
He's not sure how he feels.
Anxious. Guilty. Ashamed. He Knows This Story. A version of it. Someone else's version of it.
CW child death
"I went to see the trailer. It was filled with empty bottles, unpaid bills, my resignation from the FBI... and a newspaper talking about how my daughter had drowned in the lake some years ago."
She swallows.
"My partner believes it all. The people who lived in the town. The woman who worked at the retirement home.
"And the only other people who knew it wasn't real were two old men I'd never met who told me I was family, that a man named Tor was my grandfather."
CW child death
Is-- Is she okay? She's okay, right?
Re: CW child death
"She is. I talked to her on the phone just before I came here." A breath out. "But for... for way too long, it wasn't a sure thing. Until about ten minutes before I came here, I wasn't sure if my daughter was alive, if my husband was still with me, or if my partner was going to die too."
She swallows again.
"In fact, the first time, it didn't work."
Re: CW child death
Then, with a fresh twist of anxiety: What made all that happen in the first place?
Re: CW child death
But this is the hard part.
"You know the man who came from my world? Alan?" She won't wait. "He's a writer. And he was in a place where his writing became reality. Even if it had to change someone's past."
She looks down at him.
"You know I'm different. That's why it doesn't work on me. That's why I knew the truth, that she hadn't drowned. But that didn't change how the world was. And if we hadn't changed the story, it would have stayed that way."
Re: CW child death
She would have been gone even if you knew she shouldn't be.
Re: CW child death
But she won't make him look her in the eyes. Instead, she'll gather him close and let her eyes close.
After a moment or two-
"He was trying to write himself out of the Dark Place. And I needed a backstory that fit his narrative, the narrative of a horror story. Horror stories only have monsters... and victims. So I couldn't be a hero. I couldn't just be someone trying to help people. I had to be a victim."
no subject
But Alan was in the Dark Place, the Dark Place, the Dark World?
That's stupid, anyone can be a hero in anything.
no subject
"I said the same. I told him that my daughter's life and my partner's life were non-negotiable."
Recognize that word, kiddo?
"I got him pulled around, helped him change the ending to fix things." A breath out. "But he hurt me. He hurt my little girl. He destroyed my life to make his story better."
A breath out.
"When he showed up, I was glad he was an inmate, because I think there are things he needs to learn, and... freedom he needs to earn with more than just a story using other people's lives."
Now she looks at him again.
"But I went to the Dark Place. I know what he was trapped in. I can accept that... when you're in the dark so long, it's hard to see the light. I want him to graduate."
no subject
He himself looks a bit like a very small tribble with a tail.
His mental voice can't be muffled, really, but the sense of someone burying their face in a pillow is there.
You're a good person.
no subject
"I do my best."
She'll wait a few breaths before-
"You okay?"
no subject
Yes.
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Not quite, Edwin.
"That's why Charlie needs to treat you like a person."
She'll try to find his ears to give them a scratch.
"I know he can do it. Because you and him, you're both good people. So I'm going to help him see that he's not in a horror story anymore either."
She looks down at Edwin.
"And you're not a monster."
no subject
I don't think he's going to listen to you.
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"The trick is I'm not going to 'tell' him. I'm going to help him. And I think that when he remembers he can be a hero again, he won't keep trying to make you out to be the monster."
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It's tired, not quite defeated, a rote delivery.
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"And now, you're not. You started a new story. Your story. Edwin's story. Edwin's story is a redemption story. It's a story about learning. It's a story with love and growth and-" she peers at him gently," I bet it has heroes. Friends. Family. Community. It's a better story, right?"
no subject
It is.
After a second:
Do I ever get to stop thinking about what I was before? I don't remember, my brother doesn't want me to remember, but I can't-- I'm not supposed to just be Edwin, either. I have to always know I was the King, and I did what he did, even if none of it feels real.
no subject
"Your first story won't ever go away," she admits, "but the more volumes you add, the more stories you live, the less and less that first story will feel relevant."
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