Timeline note: Set a few days after the creation of the blue and yellow Core Memory.
Note: Hey, everyone! I'm back from a productive July (got the NaNo win to show for it!) and a stressful first half of August (real life is killing me). I'm hoping to answer all reviews and PMs within the week. If you want more info on Anamnesis (the story I'd previously dubbed "massive multi-chapter thingy"), you can find more info on my Twitter account UntoldStoriesMU.
Concerning what you're currently reading, yes, this is the story hinted at in Sugar Moon. Kudos to everyone who spotted the references.
He could lie to them, of course.
He could say it had been an accident. He could say he hadn't been thinking clearly. Better yet, he could claim that it hadn't been running away at all, that he'd been planning to find Joy and Sadness and just hadn't wanted to get anyone's hopes up at the time.
And maybe he could deliver the excuses just right to make the others buy them.
He couldn't lie to himself, though.
Releasing a heavy breath, Fear shifted around on his bed to face the far wall of his little room again.
His eyes were wide open. He hadn't found any sleep this night, either. And he was pretty sure he wouldn't.
It wasn't as if he had to say anything to them, true. No one had talked to him about it yet. He wasn't certain if Joy and Sadness even knew.
Anger and Disgust did know, of course, but they had mostly kept quiet about it. Though they hadn't hushed it up, either, hadn't tried to avoid him or anything. The way they acted around him was the same it always had been. It was probably safe to bet that they accepted what had happened as normal behavior for him.
And maybe that was what bugged him, because it wasn't.
Hadn't he sworn to protect Riley at all costs? Shouldn't he have stayed by her side, no matter the danger they were in?
What had possessed him?
He shifted around again, facing the wall, bringing his nose so close to it that it almost felt as if his room was a lot more narrow than he knew it was.
He'd abandoned his post. Not only had he taken the coward's way out, he'd been convinced it was the right thing to do. He'd been prepared to flee to some remote corner of Riley's mind, to spend the rest of his life in hiding, in solitude, never to be seen again.
This wasn't him. Wasn't he the one who needed his companions to function? Who sought physical contact at the slightest disturbance? Who was terrified of what was out there beyond Headquarters? Even if there had been absolutely nothing wrong with his decision, it would probably have been a matter of mere hours until he'd have tried to come back crying, and then would have had to succumb to the same obstacles that Joy and Sadness had faced.
He squeezed his eyes shut to dispel the sudden tears collecting in them.
What had he done?
His breath caught in his throat, and he bit his lip, hard, but not hard enough to force down the small whimper that could turn into a full-blown crying fit if he wasn't careful.
And then he heard something else. Footsteps, on the other side of his door. His whole body tensed, fingers tightening around the blanket, mind trying to work out an escape plan, just in case…
Which was stupid, of course. No one but Riley's Emotions and the odd Mind Worker had ever set foot into Headquarters. But he never had learned to suppress that instinctive reaction.
It was probably just that someone couldn't sleep, right? There was no reason for anyone to enter his room, right? They wouldn't catch him crying… right?
Then there was the soft click of the door opening, and the unmistakable shape of Sadness throwing a shadow on the wall in front of him, framed by the dimmed lights of Headquarters' main space.
Fear kept as still as he could manage, and thanked all his lucky stars that he was facing away from her.
He knew she tended to check on him when she was on Dream Duty. Probably on the others, too. He'd always found it extremely comforting to know that she was concerned about their well-being, but right now, he didn't want her in here. Maybe she didn't know what he had done. What if she found out? What if she'd hate him for it?
Now she moved, but not away like he had hoped; instead, she entered the room and crossed the small distance to his bed.
He tried his best to breathe normally. He wouldn't have to hold out for long… just a few more moments…
And then he flinched when she put a hand on his shoulder.
"What's wrong?" she asked, as dull and weary as ever.
He dared not move. Maybe she hadn't realized that he… oh, who was he kidding, he'd nearly pushed her hand off when she'd startled him.
"It's not like you to fake being asleep," she added quietly.
He gulped. "I…" he whispered.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she went on, and only now did he realize that the warm contact on his arm had subtly turned into a slight stroking motion.
What kind of a question was that? If he wanted to talk about it, would he have acted as if he couldn't hear her?
But for some odd reason… he found that he did.
"You don't have to… burden yourself with my problems," he whispered anyway, because he was too afraid to open up, too afraid to let someone see the true him, the ugly him, even when it was sweet, gentle Sadness.
"Neither do you," she pointed out.
Fear felt a single tear roll down his cheek.
It wasn't long until he found himself perched on one of the sofas in the main space, fixing the ground in his hopeless attempt not to look at anything, while Sadness was off fetching them some tea. At first, he'd been convinced that she'd pulled him from his room so that their conversation wouldn't wake the others, but now, he rather suspected that it had to do with the joyful dream Riley was having. She got to revisit that pleasant evening spent with Mom and Dad after she had returned home from the bus stop a few days ago, and watching her laughing and joking with them, toned down though as it was, calmed his fluttering nerves a bit. And something made him wonder if that had been exactly what Sadness had been aiming for.
"Here you go," he heard her voice from right in front of him, startling him out of his musings. When he looked up, he saw her offer him a cup of tea and a smile.
"Thanks," he muttered, cautiously reaching out for the cup, but of course, she'd known to keep it cool enough so that he wouldn't hurt his fingers. These days, he was starting to realize that she was really, really good at that kind of thing. How could he have missed that, all these years?
She didn't say anything as she sat down next to him and took a tentative sip of her own tea, which gave him a moment to gather his thoughts. Did he really want her to know this? He rather liked the way she acted around them, and he really didn't want her to treat him differently from now on. This wasn't even the first time they were drinking tea together; they'd had a few, albeit rare, occasions of both being awake at night. He enjoyed this. He didn't want this to end.
"So what's bothering you?" she finally broke the silence.
He gave a dry chuckle, and found himself fixing the ground yet again. He couldn't just outright throw that at her, could he?
When he kept silent, she shifted a bit to, presumably, get a better look at his face. "If I may venture a guess…?" she started, and then seemed to take his nod as permission to do just that. "When you asked Joy and me about what had happened… you know, 'for reference'… it sounded as if Disgust was accusing you for some reason."
Fear closed his eyes. Bullseye. "She was," he whispered. "I… I tried to run."
Yeah, subtlety had never been his strong point, he supposed.
Sadness kept quiet, and it was killing him. She didn't have to be so cruel about hating him! She could just tell him that it had been bad and, and then… leave him sitting here or something. Did she have to stare at him like that?
"And…?" she finally asked, sounding confused.
"And?" he burst out, finally whirling around to look at her, almost spilling his tea all over himself. "Didn't you listen? I tried to run!"
Raising her brows was all the indication she gave that she'd even heard the little explosion, but she seemed to understand the words now, if he was not quite mistaken about the look on her face.
"I should've protected Riley!" he wailed, turning away from her again, his eyes watering now, for the second time this night. "But instead, I chose to protect myself!"
Silence. The words seemed to linger in the air, seemed to suffocate him with the sheer truth they were radiating.
"When did that happen?" Sadness asked quietly.
It took him a moment to figure that out; so much had been going on during those days that he had trouble keeping track of the timeline. "Shortly after Hockey Island went down," he finally muttered.
Now she was silent again, and belatedly, it dawned on him that she was probably waiting for him to say more. Well, but there was nothing more to say. He'd failed Riley. Putting it into more words wouldn't make it better.
He took a sip of his tea for an excuse to keep quiet.
"I've been meaning to ask about Hockey Island," Sadness said, confusing him a little with both the sudden change of topic and her gentle tone, and sure enough, when he turned to look at her, he saw the smile he had heard in her voice actually reflected in her expression.
Well, he didn't mind the change of topic, he guessed. Anything was better than to talk about that.
"When we were out there traveling," she went on, "I thought I'd seen it light up for a moment, and I don't think it was my imagination. How did that happen?"
He sighed. "Well, I just had this idea that a regular hockey memory might be a decent replacement for the missing Core Memory. But the holder rejected them all, and… and we couldn't save Hockey. I thought I could save it, but…"
She seemed to wait for him to finish the sentence, but he didn't feel like doing it. What was the point in verbalizing yet another one of his failures?
"So you were frustrated about Hockey Island when you ran?" she asked.
Fear blinked.
Ah. Now he got what she was getting at. "Not an excuse," he shot that suggestion down. "If anything, it made me see the inevitability of what we were doing. We lost Goofball because we didn't know what would happen. We lost Friendship because Meg had dumped us for a new friend. But Hockey, we tried to save, and we still lost it."
He took a deep breath. "But that's no excuse," he repeated. "I should have been levelheaded enough to know that nothing of that would hurt me specifically, and that Riley needed me more than ever."
He was a little amazed about how easy it was to say all this, now that he'd started. And she didn't seem to hate him yet. In fact, when he chanced a quick glance at her face, he found her frowning in what still looked like confusion.
"Levelheaded?" she repeated slowly. "I, I don't know, I kinda… I'd pegged you as really emotional. Aren't you?"
Biting his lip, he mulled that over in his head for a moment. Being an Emotion made it a little hard to take "emotional" the way humans did, as the opposite of "rational." But was it true? Was fear always an emotional response? "Depends. Panic is emotional. Caution is not. I can be rational if I try hard enough; I took care of Riley while she was going to the bus stop, and that was the most terrifying thing she's ever done. But most of the time, I just can't keep it together. Even though I probably should."
"So you didn't really think about running," she reasoned.
Fear clutched the cup a little tighter. There was something in her tone… something which gave him the distinct feeling that she was playing games with him. She just kept asking these questions, made it seem as if she already knew the conclusion at which he would arrive. Why wouldn't she just spell it out? Was she trying to get him to make a fool of himself?
"I take it Anger was the one who planted the idea in Riley's head?" she changed the topic yet again.
The question caught him off guard, and he frowned at her in confusion. "How do you know?"
How did she know? Joy had been asking her that, too, he recalled. Where did Sadness always get these insights? It was kinda freaking him out, to say the least.
Especially because she was smiling at him again. "You wouldn't," she stated, and his heart leapt at how sure she sounded of it. "Disgust rarely takes the initiative in that regard. And he's been so quiet. So I just figured the idea had been his."
Fear smiled faintly as he recalled the sheer elation with which Anger had presented the bulb to them. "He called it the 'Happy Core Memory Development Program.' His reasoning was that we should go back to Minnesota because all the happy Core Memories were made there. Looking back on it now, of course it was stupid - I mean, we couldn't have imitated Joy any better there than we could here, but…" He blinked a few times. "We just… we just wanted Riley to be happy… it was so stupid, but we didn't know what to do, so Anger took the chance and…"
He trailed off into a sigh. It had been so stupid. Faintly, he wondered if Anger regretted his decision to run away as much as Fear regretted his own.
"Did Disgust stop him?" Sadness probed.
Fear shook his head. "No. But she didn't like doing it, either."
Sadness startled him by placing one hand onto his shoulder. "Why is that a redeeming argument in her case but not in yours?"
He raised his head at that question, his gaze coming to rest on the empty memory racks on the other side of the room. Actually, why was it? "It's not," he finally decided, and then a moment later, the gravity of the statement almost crushed him.
It wasn't. Not in Disgust's case, and definitely not in his. He had himself to blame for that, too. He'd spoken his mind about not doing it, yes, but he'd never seriously opposed the two.
It took him a moment to shake himself out of his sudden stupor. "It's not," he repeated, his voice sounding hollow even to himself. "We were all in it together. The idea was Anger's, but we gave in." He gulped. "Still, we all thought making Riley run away was done in her best interests. Leaving her, on the other hand…"
He gulped again. There was a lump in his throat, and he wasn't sure how to go on. Sadness's questions had just made him see that his guilt weighed far greater than he had even realized.
Maybe he should have left. Riley would probably have been better off for it.
For a moment, neither of them said a word, and the only sound in the room were the voices of Riley and her parents, and their soft laughter at one of their games. But then, there was the soft thud of Sadness setting her cup down on the far end of the sofa so that she could scoot a little closer. He considered warning her about spilling her tea, but he doubted she'd be interested.
"So if you all made mistakes, why are you blaming yourself for the one that was yours?" she asked.
"What?" he burst out, staring at her. She was just confusing him at this point. "Did you hear what I said? I put my own safety before Riley's! It's like… like… like treason! Why are you trying to justify this?"
She smiled at him. "Because you're not a bad person."
Now he did spill his tea all over his sweater.
"Ah, dammit," he muttered, but the damage was done. Not that it mattered right now. Suddenly, it was crystal clear to him that he'd misjudged the intent of her questions. He really shouldn't have assumed that there was any malice behind the words, especially not with Sadness.
Almost on their own, his hands started fiddling with the now empty cup.
Not a bad person? Was that truly what she believed? That he was not a bad person? That there was a way to be okay with what he had done? He wished so badly that he could believe that, too.
Did he deserve to believe it? He wasn't sure. Would that even help? He wasn't sure. Was it even true? He wasn't sure. But that was a step-up to before, right? Before their conversation, he'd been so sure, more than he'd ever been in his life, that what he had done was unforgivable.
Did he dare hope that Sadness could help him come to terms with his decision?
"What makes you say that?" he whispered before he could stop himself, and kept staring into the empty cup as if it held the answer he was yearning for.
"Well, you made mistakes," she admitted softly. "But we all did. And I think there's five of us so that there's always someone there to make sure no one's mistakes have any serious consequences."
He blinked at her. That was quite a unique perspective to him. He'd always figured that there were five of them because they were good at doing different things. But Sadness had gone deeper, had asked the question of why diverse skills were necessary in the first place.
Was it really to minimize the damage done by personal blunders? That almost sounded as if mistakes were okay. "But... our whole lives are centered around being there for Riley! Don't we have a responsibility to make the right choices for her sake?"
Sadness nodded. "Yes, we do. But that doesn't mean we're right all the time. No one is."
"But, Sadness..." he blurted out, then bit his lip for a moment, not sure what he was trying to say. "I mean, being wrong, that's one thing, but running away...!"
"I ran away, too."
That gave him pause. She seemed calm as she said it, and she didn't shy away from meeting his gaze. Unlike him, she seemed prepared to meet the consequences of such a mistake head-on. Even though she couldn't possibly mean it the way she had said it.
"No, you didn't," he finally muttered. "You're here."
But Sadness still didn't back down. "So are you."
He blinked. She had a point there. "What happened?"
Now she did turn away, and he could see her shoulders slump as she took a deep breath. There were tears collecting in her eyes, and with a start, he realized that, while her attitude was different from his, she was beating herself up over whatever she was talking about just as much as he was over his own mistake.
After a moment or two, her gaze seemed to cloud over. "I ran away, literally ran away," she confessed. "Joy had to chase me."
A vivid mental image formed in front of his inner eye, of Sadness and Joy running in a circle in a sort of cartoony fashion, Sadness with a stream of tears trailing behind her and Joy with her hands outstretched, like characters from one of those innocuous cartoons that Riley had watched when she'd been little. "To be honest…" he murmured on an impulse, "I'm surprised she did."
It didn't feel right to be saying that about Joy, especially after what he himself had done; the observation had just slipped out. So it was all the more astonishing when Sadness started smiling at his words.
"Exactly," she agreed. "She wouldn't have in the past. But she did."
It was true, Fear supposed. Joy had changed. Sadness had had to take quite a bit of neglect in the past, but those days seemed to be over. Well, not that he had treated Sadness any better, and neither had Anger and Disgust, for that matter. But, yeah, in all objectivity, they had probably just been following Joy's lead. Right?
He decided that was a problem for another night. It wouldn't help to drag up every single character flaw he could find in himself. Still, he couldn't see where Sadness was going with this. "Why, though? I mean… why did she have to?"
Her smile faded. "Because I was convinced that Riley was better off without me. I blamed myself for not helping Joy and Bing Bong before they fell down to the dump. But… well, you saw that Joy helped me help Riley in the end. And I'm glad she did. I know now that Riley needed me, even though it looked to me as if I was only causing her pain."
Oh, how Fear wished he could be this sure of himself! "Well, if it counts for anything, I'm glad you're both still here." Was he saying that because it was polite? No, actually, he was pretty sure he meant it.
Sadness briefly took his hand in return, squeezing slightly as if to say thank you, and he found it oddly calming how she rubbed her thumb over the back of his fingers. "I think our biggest flaw," she said, "is that each of us is convinced to always have the answers. Me included."
"But you do always have the answers," he pointed out with a lopsided smirk. "It's kind of creepy, if you don't mind me saying so."
She fidgeted a little. "No, I don't have all the answers. I just listen. And by listening, I pick up a lot. That's all there is to it."
He was contemplating that while she wiped her hand over her eyes and then went on. "We think we're right," she added, "all of us, and that's why we fight for control over Riley's mood. But we're not. Not always, I mean. Sometimes, we don't think clearly, and then we do stupid things. Everyone makes mistakes. Riley, too. Riley ran away, too."
"We made her," Fear pointed out quietly.
Sadness sent him a slight smile. "But in a sense, we are her. So does it matter?"
Fear kept quiet for a moment. Did it? That was a rather loaded question, now that he thought about it. Were Riley's actions even her own?
Were his?
"In case there's a little someone in my head making me afraid…" he muttered and raised one hand to rub the skin behind his eyes, "please know that I don't blame you."
No response. Not that he'd expected one. But at least Sadness was smiling, truly smiling now.
He still needed to answer her question, though. And he had no idea how to do that. Could Riley be held responsible for her actions if it was their actions that made her do stuff?
But that question, he suddenly realized, paved the way for a far more terrifying thought to take hold of his entire being.
If she could… did she blame them?
"Sadness," he whispered, "do you think… do you think Riley… wants me?"
She put her hand back onto his shoulder. "Riley needs you, Fear," she said quietly.
He winced. Ouch. "That's not the same thing," he argued, expression creasing into a scowl.
With a small sniffle, Sadness started blinking at him, as if trying not to cry. "I know. But it's all Emotions like us can hope for. We make her uncomfortable. We make her miserable. But in the end, she wouldn't be complete without us."
He hastily turned away from her, desperate to not let her see his features slip. Oh, wow, way to make him feel better about himself! Even though, for some odd reason… it felt good to have someone who understood.
So Sadness believed Riley wouldn't be complete without them, huh? Well, he supposed she wouldn't. She had to feel negative feelings every once in a while, too, right? After all, Joy had been crying a few days ago. And he was pretty sure that it had helped her get over Bing Bong's death, or at least helped her start to. And that was a good thing, right? So negative Emotions were actually good sometimes, even for generally positive people, weren't they?
"…well, I guess I'll always be there for her," he muttered, but then snorted when he realized what he had just said. "At least, you know, starting now."
"But you told me you were there for her when she ran away," Sadness argued.
"No, I wasn't!" he suddenly snapped. Because realizing that Riley wasn't complete without him had just brought him back full circle. Negative Emotions were important. Riley had needed him. And he'd chosen not to support her anymore.
"I wasn't," he repeated hotly, his shoulders drooping. What had been the point in trying to convince himself otherwise? Cowardice, that was what the point had been. Selfishness. And by trying to avoid the responsibility for his actions, the final realization just hit him all the harder. "There is no excusing what I did. It was wrong. And I'm the worst."
Each word he spoke made him kinda die inside a little more. How could he ever trust himself again?
Sadness had fallen silent. She wasn't even trying to argue against it anymore. Not a bad person? Ha! He was a selfish bastard.
"But, Fear…" Sadness finally whispered. "If you truly think that what you did is unforgivable… why are you still here?"
Fear froze. The words resounded in his head, seemed to reflect off Headquarters' walls and high ceiling to bombard him from all sides. Slowly, he turned to look at her with wide eyes.
"Please don't misunderstand," Sadness added a little hastily. "I don't want you to leave. I appreciate your company, and I'd be… I'd be s-sad to see you go…"
He took her hand, not quite sure why he suddenly felt the need to comfort her.
She wiped her eyes with the other hand. "But if you think you can't be forgiven, I mean…"
He got what she was trying to say. She wasn't asking him to leave. She was asking what had kept him from doing it. Why he'd chosen not to do it, at least this time.
"Because that would be running away, too," he spelled it out, almost in a whisper. "And I can't make up for running away by running away. Riley's still better off with a flawed Fear than with no Fear at all."
He gulped. What did that leave him with? "So I guess I'm just gonna… gonna have to live with… the memory of what I did…"
Not exactly a prospect he was looking forward to, mind you.
"But, Fear…" Sadness muttered. "Isn't that what memories do?"
Fear looked at her yet again, just looked at her.
"Helping us to avoid mistakes?" Sadness went on slowly. "Reminding us of the past to be a guide for the future?"
Fear let her question sink in for a moment. Actually… actually, he could recall many, many instances in which Riley had been cautious because he'd called up a fearful memory to coax her into it. And hadn't the Core Memories reminded her of who she was, every single day? "…that's… an interesting point," he finally admitted.
Sadness was smiling again. "That's why Riley has them, too, right? It's not just the Core Memories that form her personality, after all. It's all of them, every single one. They make her who she is. And if she makes mistakes, that will cause her to do better next time. Right?"
Fear bit his lip. "Do you… do you really believe that?" If that was truly her opinion… he'd been focusing on excusing what he had done, and that wasn't possible. But Sadness seemed more concerned about what one made of a past mistake. It was a difficult concept to wrap his head around, but… but that could actually be the solution to his problem. Right?
She furrowed her brows in confusion. "Um, I… well… I think so, yeah. Why?"
"Because…" he muttered. "Because… if that applies to me, too… I made a mistake, a horrible mistake, but… but nothing bad actually came from it, and I… I'll do better in the future… won't I?"
"You're doing better already," Sadness assured him immediately, even though he had no idea what might have made her say it. "And you're right. That is how we should deal with what we have done."
Fear took a deep breath, and suddenly, it didn't actually feel quite as difficult to draw in the air. "You think I can be… forgiven?" he whispered faintly.
And this time, he almost felt like mirroring Sadness's expression when her face split into a dazzling smile. "There's nothing to forgive," she corrected. "I'm sure Riley is not angry at you. And neither are the others. Or anyone else."
For some odd reason he absolutely couldn't fathom, now there were tears collecting in his eyes again. But right now, he didn't really care if she saw, so he just let them fall and hit his hands with the slightest of splashing sounds.
Was that it? Was that the answer? That he didn't need to be forgiven even after he had done such a horrible thing?
"Thanks, Sadness," he muttered. "For always being there."
He wasn't sure if he appreciated her words or just the fact that she'd listened. But it didn't really matter. He just wanted to thank her.
Her smile widened even more, if that was possible. The expression seemed almost foreign on her face. "You're welcome," she said, with so much warmth in her tone, and then got up from the sofa. "So do you believe you can get to sleep now?
Did he? He wasn't sure. Then again, he was rarely sure about anything.
"Might as well give it a shot," he muttered as he also got to his feet. "But… I… I think it should be easier this time around."
She gently took the empty cup from his hands. "That's good. Sleep well, then."
It seemed so final all of a sudden. Maybe he should do something nice for her now? "Shouldn't I, ah… do you want company?"
But Sadness shook her head. "It's fine. I'll just sit here and stare into space."
Fear frowned. Didn't seem all that appealing to him. But she'd sounded as if she was going to enjoy herself. "Well, in that case, uh… see you in the morning."
"Goodnight, Fear," she returned the sentiment, and then went to, probably, return his cup.
It wasn't long before Fear was back in his bed again. If he concentrated enough, he could hear Riley laughing. It was one of the most beautiful sounds he knew, but it wasn't much of a sleeping aid.
Now that Sadness wasn't around to kinda radiate confidence about the topic, it was a little harder to stick with the outcome of their conversation. But he told himself to go to sleep. Yes, he'd been selfish, and irrational, and rash, and wrong… but dwelling on it wouldn't change that.
No one was hurt because of him, no one was angry at him, and he was pretty sure it wouldn't happen again. He was the only problem here, the only one blaming himself. Which meant that Sadness was right, and that he would have to let the matter go.
And maybe he could. It was rare for him to be so sure of something. So it just had to be right… right?
"I'm sorry, Riley," he whispered. But her laughter pearling through his closed bedroom door seemed to want to reassure him, as if telling him that even after what he had done, Riley had still found it in herself to be happy. He'd made a mistake, but things had turned out all right.
The last thought he managed to hold onto before he felt himself drift off was that he would do better in the morning.
Note: As much as I love Fear, his characterization is kind of all over the place, so this is basically me trying to make sense of conflicting bits of it. Hope you liked the story! Would love to hear your thoughts!
The next one shouldn't take quite as long as this one, and it's probably gonna be either a three-parter focusing on all Emotions or a Disgust/Fear friendship piece. Let's see what wants to be written first.