One of the brief spazzes that I've promised to fans of Prodigal. To kick off, I've got a short, sweet, fluffy thing for 4. This is part of an old ship I used to sail, almost as long as I've shipped 9x7—which is pretty much forever… or since 2010, which sure FEELS like forever, to me! I hope you enjoy it.
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First Kiss
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4 couldn't remember being quite so happy. She would never say that she was grateful that her twin had run away, gotten lost, and caused them all so much terror over that first winter. So many awful things had happened to her brother… But the fallout had led her straight to 12, and for that, she was grateful.
12 was like the rest of his Deka-punk family—different, a little odd, but good. His outward and inward appearances were nothing alike. On the outside, he was stark black and white, his skin checkered like a chess board; his jaggedly cut black hair fell over one eye, making him look cool and dangerous. But there was nothing dangerous about 12, the electrician. He loved electricity, tinkering with it, taming it, harnessing it to his will. He was brilliant, and he was kind to her and her brothers. And he often assured her that he liked her best of all the Prime-punks.
If 2 had been a child, he would have been nothing short of 12. And 4 supposed that was part of the reason she liked him so much. In those bad, uncertain days of old, before there had even been the thought of a mother for her, there had always been 2. Losing him had been terrifying and heartbreaking. But being with 12… It was like her grandfather had never left. She didn't know if the rest of her immediate family got the same feeling about him, but she did. Most likely because she couldn't help spending so much time with him.
Being a thoughtful child, she spent a lot of time wondering what all this ultimately meant. They were both only children—born about the same time, perhaps, but 12 was definitely "older" than her by a "year" or two. They were too young; there was no point in wistfully wondering if they would ever be married, like their mothers and father were. And there was certainly no possibility that they would ever have children of their own. The latter suited 4 perfectly fine—she had watched 7 and 14 both as they had carried their children, and it looked miserable.
Well, if they were never to be married or have a family of their own, what were they doing, exactly? There was no practical reason to carry on this way, was there…?
Feh; papa's warned us that love isn't always practical, she thought to herself one night, curled up in the bottom bunk of the bed she and her twin shared. And I… I love him. He loves me, as well, even if nothing practical ever comes of it. That's the only reason there needs to be, think…
Assured, she fell asleep with a smile on her face, not expecting the dream that came over her…
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It had been so long ago, she could barely remember having an audible voice. She had been born with one, and so had 3; but their voices had suddenly and mysteriously gone away. The last time she could remember speaking out loud was right after they had met 7 for the first time. They had been lost for months, but 5 had managed to find them—they had chalked that miracle up to sheer dumb luck. He hadn't been able to lead them home, though, because he had gotten just as lost trying to find them.
"We didn't think we'd see any of you again," was the last thing 4 had ever said out loud, sobbed into 7's shoulder as she held them for the first time, promising them shelter and care.
But there was an entire battle going on in the streets around them. Even safe with the others, the twins had been terrified beyond reckoning. And they still did not consider being stuck in 1's care to be "safe" at all. In the end, the last straw for them had been 5's unfortunate fate. Seeing 2 and 7 dragging him back, unconscious, a portion of his face blown off his head…
4 had felt something deep inside her shatter, the pieces melting away and vanishing completely; and 3 must have felt it as well. When the others noticed their silence, 2 had thought at first it was something he could fix—a broken circuit or a loose wire that could be easily mended. But when he had inspected their voice boxes, he had found them perfectly intact, in pristine condition. He had finally, reluctantly resolved that severe trauma was to blame for their silence, and that there was nothing more to be done about it.
That hadn't stopped everyone from trying, anyway—not even 2 could keep himself from helping, and hoping, though he knew the whole time that there was no point. And none of them tried harder than 7 to coax something out of them. She had only heard them speak once before, briefly, over the scream of war machines. It was unfair for her, but she didn't let it get her down. Instead, she spent those first few years gently, diligently trying to teach them to speak again, like a real mother would have with her newborn children.
"I can't wait to hear your sweet voices again," she had often said with a loving, hopeful smile. Everyone else eventually gave up hoping that their voices would return, especially when the twins had discovered their flicker-speak. But 7 had never given up that hope. Even now, with their new father, new brother, new family and new life, they suspected that she still carried that same old hope in her heart.
However, it had been 6 who made the most heartfelt attempt. It was an encounter that 4 relived often in her dreams, and one that no one else but her brother knew about. It had happened in a difficult and surreal period, after they had lost their voices, but before they had figured out their flicker-speak. They had been unable to communicate efficiently with anyone; it put them in constant, obvious danger at every moment, and they knew it. They had been more frightened and skittish than ever to be so vulnerable.
Then one night, 4 was unable to sleep. She sat awake in her bed, unable to do anything but worry about the future and how bleak it seemed. She was so sad; and even though her brother was laying asleep right beside her, she felt painfully lonely.
With no one to stop her from leaving, she got out of bed and left the safety of their den to take a walk, hoping to clear her head and ease her nerves. She hadn't gone very far—as if she had planned to—when she very distinctly felt a pair of eyes watching her, gently keeping an eye on things from a shy, respectful distance.
She turned to look, the immediate area lit by full, silver moonlight. It was just enough to see 6 and his googley eyes peering at her from behind the wreckage of a church pew.
4 had been feigning oblivion to his affections for as long as she had known him. There had always been something odd about 6, sweet as he seemed. He had an unusual soft spot for her that she hadn't recognized as love at first; but she had understood that it was deep and meaningful in a way that felt off to her. He was supposed to be so much older than her, even though he rarely acted it. Why should he feel so strongly about her, of all people?
But at least he kept himself contained; doing so was difficult for him, and she genuinely appreciated it. And it afforded her a guard of sorts, while she was out of sorts. Feeling pretty miserable all by herself, she paused and waited to see if he would come out to join her. Seeing that he had been caught, but that 4 hadn't run away, he slowly crept into the open. And he didn't stop until he was right beside her.
"You… You should be in bed," he stammered meekly. "Rest is good. It's good for voices."
She sighed and stared sadly at the floor, thinking, Nothing in the world will do any good for me, now.
6 nervously darted his eyes around and twiddled his pen-nib fingers. "I… I think I… had an idea, about your voice."
4 highly doubted that 6 could really help her, but she was curious. She slowly looked back up at him, silently asking him to continue.
"I remember… there were all these stories. Old stories. The ones where… everyone lives happily ever after."
4 nodded, remembering them, herself. A treasury of fairy tales had been one of the first books she had ever read.
"And the prince… He can always fix his princess… He always finds a way… No matter what terrible thing is done to her… he can always fix her… with a… with a kiss."
So that's where this was going. Had she been less tired, 4 would have been alarmed and run away from the awkwardness. Instead, she felt enough compassion to notice how sweet he was. And, feeling pretty desparate, she wondered if the old remedy of true love's first kiss… might actually do the trick.
And who else could ever be my true love, but him? She reasoned. There's no one else like us in the whole world.
Unable to voice her agreement, she nodded her head with a sweet, appreciative smile. 6 stared back at her for a second, not sure what exactly what part of his proposal she had agreed with. To clarify, she stepped a little closer and gave him a hug.
I wish I could say thank you for thinking of me. Everyone's tried everything they could think of, and you kept thinking. You haven't given up, either. And it's just really sweet of you. So thank you.
As she thought this, he slowly, sort of nervously hugged her back, unable to believe that this was actually happening, afraid that it might just be a daydream.
"I want your voice to come back… I want you to be safe… I want to hear you say my name again… You have a… a really cute little voice… I miss it."
He really believed he could do it. He really believed he could cure her. He didn't seem like much, but maybe he really was her own prince. Maybe, if his kiss could fix her voice, then her kiss in return would fix whatever was wrong with his mind. She looked up at him hopefully and he leaned closer, nuzzling her face a little.
"You're very… pretty, you know. I had… I had always wanted to say …"
4 took a deep breath, sort of resigning herself to whatever happened next, and not worrying about it. At best, her voice would come back, 6 wouldn't be crazy anymore, and they would live somewhat happily ever after. At worst, nothing would happen, and they would both be disappointed. Either way, they would still be alive, and together, no matter what happened.
The kiss itself lasted only a few seconds, and was kind of clumsy—given their difference in height and mutual lack of experience. But 4 had never remembered it like that. It had been a bright, shining moment, innocent and pure in its purpose. It had been her first kiss… And it had been with 6, of all people. She had pulled away almost too suddenly, eager to see if the old magic had worked.
6…
She could hear his name in her head, in her own voice. But when she opened her mouth, she found herself still trying to force the sound out, and it never actually came. She tried again, harder this time, to choke out any kind of sound, until it felt like it was gagging her. But nothing happened. The magic hadn't worked, and she was still completely mute.
She looked up at him again, confused, disappointed, and a little heartbroken, silently asking what had gone wrong. She tried to cuddle closer for comfort; but instead, he looked back at her numbly and let his arms slowly fall away from her.
"Oh…" he said sadly, almost whispering. "…It's not me, is it?"
4 didn't understand what he meant by that, and being unable to ask what was wrong felt like something sharp stabbing her mechanical heart. 6 looked off into space for a moment, thinking, visibly trying hard not to cry in front of her. Then he gripped her be her shoulders and turned her back around, toward the den.
"Go on," he insisted, giving her a gentle starting push. "I'll be… I'll be back… soon…"
She couldn't argue with him, not after such a valiant attempt had failed so abysmally. So she trudged back to bed, knowing that she would cry herself back to sleep. And knowing that 6 would probably do the same…
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4 woke from her dream with a start, as always. It came around rarely, these days; but when it did, she usually found herself waking in the dark of the night, in bed, just like in her dream. For a few long, tense minutes, she wasn't sure if she was still dreaming, or actually living out the encounter all over again, or what.
"Sis, are you okay?"
3's head appeared upside down from the top bunk, with a concerned look on his face. Thank goodness—it really had been the dream again, and nothing more. 4 sighed and sat up slowly, feeling stiff.
"I'm fine…" she answered vaguely, hugging her knees to her chest—most certainly not fine at all. 3 made an understanding, sympathetic face.
"Oh, you had that dream about 6 again, didn't you?" he guessed, carefully jumping down to the floor. "That's the only dream you ever dream in color, isn't it?"
"It's the only re-occurring one I have, that's for sure," she said petulantly. "Of all the things… Why that thing?"
"You never got any closure after that," 3 suggested in his scholarly way, sitting beside her. "Neither of you ever talked about it after that; you were too embarrassed, and he was… Well… 6 was never quite the same after that night. The others didn't really catch it, but they didn't know what happened."
"Like a piece of him died when he realized that…"
"That even though he loved you so much, you were meant for someone else."
"It sounds like something from a sappy romance novel," 4 commented, rolling her eyes. "But… that is what happened to him, isn't it?"
"It sure didn't help him much."
Feeling very guilty—like she always did after the dream—she lowered her face onto her knees and began to cry softly. 3 patted her shoulder, trying to calm her.
"It's not your fault, 4. You know that."
"It must have been! He did everything right, just for me, and I… I just… Oh, I don't know what I did, but I'm sure I did something!" she sobbed.
3 shook his head sadly. "You never loved him sis. It's not a sin."
"But he deserved it—he deserved a chance, at least. Maybe I could have saved him, if I had tried harder—if I hadn't been a fickle, terrible little person!"
"Stop saying things like that," 3 scolded, just about done with the way his twin was behaving. "Hey, the fact that it moved you enough to still dream about it speaks volumes. That kiss meant a lot to you."
"It was a big thing for us," 4 agreed dismally. "It killed any belief in magic that we had."
Instead of continuing down that definite path of awkward heartbrokenness, 3 decided to change the topic.
"Maybe he was right, though—that it wasn't him, right? Maybe it's 12."
4 sat up pin-straight, startled that her brother had veered so sharply off course.
"No, really, I'm serious! He's perfect for you—you know, like how mama and papa are perfect for each other, and 13 and 14, as well. I look at the two of you, and it looks like them. It looks and it feels… right. Like it's the way things are supposed to be."
4 scowled defensively at him and grumbled, "I don't want to talk about that right now."
"That's okay. I'm just saying, think about that in the morning, when the memory doesn't hurt so much anymore."
"I'm not kissing 12 to try and get my voice back, if that's what you're getting at," she retorted as 3 climbed back to the top bunk. "That ship has sailed."
"That's not what I'm saying at all. I'm just saying, think about it all. And in the meantime, just remember this: nothing that happened to 6 was your fault. You didn't cause any of that, and you shouldn't feel bad because of it, okay?"
Not feeling bad after the dream was always impossible; but she knew from experience that it would pass with the dawn. That could still be a long way off. And she still had to sleep. She wished that she was bold enough go wake up her parents and tell talk to them about it. She wished she could talk to 12 about it and know that he would understand… But she just knew that he wouldn't.
Oh, 12… She decided to think more about her darling checkered friend and less about her lost striped one, until she fell back to sleep. Sure enough, thinking pleasant things lulled her back to sleep quickly and she passed the rest of the night dreamlessly, as she usually did.
But she woke still feeling a little confused and unsure of what to do next. Thanks to her brother, the end of her dream plagued her waking thoughts for the better part of the day. She remembered entirely too vividly the feeling of his arms falling away, the defeated look on his face, his heartbroken voice…
"Oh… It's not me, it is?"
She hadn't understood for a very long time what 6 had meant by that. But now that she had 12, it finally dawned on her what he had been talking about. It wasn't the first of 6's prophecies to go unnoticed, and it had been far from the last. It just shocked her a little to realize that one of his missed prophecies had been about… her.
You knew the whole time there was someone special waiting for me, she thought. It was late in the day, and she had kept unusually to herself all day, not in the mood for being social. She was sitting alone on the edge of the fountain, gazing at her reflection in the still water—a good place to reflect on things the Lost had done in life. She was so deep in thought, she didn't notice 12 coming until he had climbed up beside her and plunked himself down.
"I've missed you all day," he commented with his goofy, genuine smile. "What have you been up to, 4?"
"Oh, nothing," she answered vaguely, failing at managing a smile of her own. 12's fell a little, and he looked worried.
"Is something wrong? Are you okay?"
"It's complicated…"
"You can tell me about it," he insisted, taking her hand and holding it firmly. "I'll listen."
"I know you will… It's if you'll understand at all."
To her surprise, he raised her hand and pressed his lips against her fingers.
"I'll try."
She trusted him completely. But… she simply wasn't ready to talk about the incident with anyone yet. Perhaps, in time, she could break down that wall and tell him—tell everyone, even. But for now, no.
"12… do you love me?"
For a split second, he looked a little fazed—not because he didn't love her, but because she had used such a big word so suddenly. It had to be asked sometime… But just having the word thrown out there, hovering in the air around them made everything seem bigger and more important. When his initial surprise passed, he smiled gently.
"Yes. Yes I do," he answered solidly.
Reassured, the unspoken word finally out of the way, she smiled back and asked another question.
"Do you believe in magic?"
Tilting his head to one side, not sure where she was going, 12 answered, "Sure. Of course I do."
"But you have all of science at your fingertips. You don't need to believe in magic… do you?"
"Well… Okay, maybe not magic," he answered grandly. "But there is a certain something about the world I've always seen. It's a sense of wonder, beauty, and mystery that I can't really give a name to. But it makes strange and wonderful things happen, you know?"
"I'm not quite sure that I understand."
"It's the marvel of the seasons changing; how rain freezes into snow; how the clouds change their shape," he explained, scooting a little closer to her. "It's all so amazing to behold, isn't it?"
"But you know how all those things happen, because of the way the world works. We all do."
"Sure… But don't you find it… magical? It's not really magic, but I don't have a better word for it. It's too big, and too wonderful for a proper name. So for now, I call it magic—it's mysterious and wondrous enough to suffice."
Leaning a little closer, he added, "The greatest marvel of all is that this powerful force brought us together. You make me really happy, 4. I really love you. And you… You love me too, right?"
She felt her face grow invisibly hot, glad that he couldn't see how brightly she was blushing. But she beamed back and answered, "12, of course I do!"
Overjoyed, unable to contain himself, he leaned even closer and gave her a quick, sweet kiss.
She had been completely unprepared for it—that old, foolish hope didn't even have a chance to flutter back to life to be crushed again. But as he pulled away smiling brightly, she couldn't help but give her voice a try, anyway. She didn't believe in things like magic anymore, but… If she and 12 really were meant for each other, maybe their first kiss really had just fixed her. She opened her mouth a little, gently trying to force some kind of sound out.
But, just like last time, nothing happened. Not that she was particularly disappointed this time.
Maybe it isn't 12, either, she thought nervously.
"What is it?" 12 asked as her face fell. "…I'm no good at that, am I?" he guessed sheepishly.
"No, no, no," she insisted. "That was very sweet. But…" She gently rubbed her throat and continued, "This is still no good…"
Beginning to understand what this was all about, 12 took her hand and looked into her eyes.
"If your voice ever does come back, that will be great; I wish I could hear it. It must be a beautiful voice." He thoughtfully brushed his fingers over her face.
"But it's okay if that never happens. I love you, voice or no voice. You are magical, just the way you are."
That was it—if ever she was destined for true love, it was with this sweet boy. Forget about magical kisses lifting curses, and white knights on valiant steeds—4 had always known such things didn't exist, anyway. But 12 was real, and his love for her was real, as well. Fully satisfied with everything, resolving not to worry about things anymore, she snuggled close to him and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close.
"You are my sweetheart," he whispered, "and I will always look after you. I promise."
And she didn't doubt that for a second.