They'd made camp for the night in an abandoned cottage.

"Looks like we were lucky," Cain commented as he stood guard at the one grimy window in the living room. The place was divided into four rooms with very little furniture. It had a cold basement devoid of food and a front door that let in a draft, but it was more comfortable than camping outside.

"I think Glitch would happily agree to that," DG replied, smiling at Raw from her battered old couch. She knew her frail minded friend, for one, was sick to death of walking and sleeping in the cold forest.

"Speaking of which, where is the zipper head?" Cain queried, folding his arms and leaning into the worn out wall. DG looked to Raw, who pointed in the direction of the hall.
"Glitch quiet after seeing what happened," he said. "Raw go find him?"

She shook her head. "No, you guys grab some sleep. I'll go talk to him."

DG had noticed his silence as they'd trudged on after leaving Ralph and Loraine's cabin. She could only imagine the torment her friend would be in, unable to remember what had been so terrible about his invention that he'd been willing to sacrifice half a brain to keep it secret. She found him soon enough, sitting on the floor of what used to be a bedroom. DG watched as he stared, lost in thought, lines of worry creasing his face. She wondered what it must truly be like underneath all that happy make up.

"Glitch?"

She heard him mutter something barely audible, something like not my name.

She tapped his shoulder, and he jumped.

"Oh, DG, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you." He smiled slightly and looked guiltily at the floor, ringing his hands.

"Glitch, I'm so sorry you had to relive such a terrible memory." She sank down onto the floor next to him.

"It's okay, really. I barely even remember it now." He smiled again. "I barely even remember it now."

"You just said that," she told him gently. He frowned and continued to ring his hands until she looped them with hers. "It's not okay. You gave up so much, for my mother."

"I didn't just do it for her," he said, meeting her gaze. Her face froze at the depth she saw in his eyes. "I used to be a coward, until I helped your mother. But then I was afraid again. Then I met you, DG. And you're so brave and so willing to do whatever it takes to put things right again." His grip on her tightened. "It's wonderful. You – you're wonderful."

It pained her to pull away, but DG moved from underneath his penetrating gaze to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm not so brave, Glitch. If it wasn't for this," she flashed her scarred palm, "And you guys, I wouldn't have made it this far."

He smiled yet again, in the way that showed how he was trying to make her feel better. "Well then, I guess we all helped each other," he admitted awkwardly. He laughed then, looking up at the ceiling, the corner, anywhere but her. "You know, when you hugged me before, in that house…your hair. It smelt nice. Like the kind of soap I'd used when I was…" the thought seemed to falter in his mind. "When…I told that…that woman…what to do."

"Advisor to the queen, Glitch; that's who you were," she said, because she could think of nothing else. "And I hope I don't use the same soap as you, because I'm a woman."

He crawled from the floor to sit beside her on the bed. "Yes, you are." He ravaged her with his eyes.

"I don't quite understand what's going on here," she murmured as he delicately brushed a strand of her hair back.

"Do you think," he continued as if he'd not heard, "That when this is over, and I get the rest of my brain back…I'll be different?"

She nodded, barely breathing in the space between them. "I think so. But I hope not."

"Why's that?"

"B-because you're kinda cute when you're clumsy."

She thought maybe she was the one glitching now. Had she really just admitted that?

"But it's sad too, right? I mean I can't always go through life being this happily ignorant, can I?"

She tried to laugh. "You sound like Mr Cain, now."

"Would you still like me if I became clever again?" he asked, ignoring her as if he could barely get through his own thoughts, let alone reply to hers. She realised he was right: it was sad.

"You are clever, Glitch."

There was an unbearable silence, the kind that begged to be broken by actions rather than words. DG couldn't muster the courage to move. Ironic, given she was the spokesperson for bravery these days. She had faced her own evil sister with ferocity, yet a moment like this had her frozen with something close to fear. Fear of what? Fear of falling.

"DG," Glitch whispered, "Your hair smells nice."

"You told me," she answered.

"Your hair smells nice."

Oh, Glitch, she cried on the inside, and kissed him.

She was expecting him to be startled, but he returned it just as good as she gave. His mouth was warm and sweet; she could feel the indent of his simple smile pressed irreversibly onto her lips, over and over.

She wondered if afterward she would ever be able to stop smiling, and whether it mattered if she couldn't.

When they pulled away, her fingers ghosted over her mouth. He looked puzzled at her expression.

"What's wrong DG?" he asked quietly, worriedly. She stared at his lips and his eyelids, his face. She was certain he wore make up, had been sure her mouth would be stained with his lip stick. Surely his skin was not naturally so feminine.

"I thought you might be gay at first," she told him. He looked more nonplussed than usual. "You know…the make up and everything."

"I don't understand. Is gay a good thing?"

She smiled her stolen smile, curious. "Not if you want to kiss me again," she said, and then tugged at the buttons of his shirt. He grinned and let his hands skim lightly over hers as she pushed the folds back to slide a hand under his striped skivvy. She lifted the material and found his stomach, pale as his face. She shook her head in wonderment. "You're impossible, Glitch." He reached for her lips first this time, his fingers brushing over hers, a silent plea to continue their roaming. She tasted like honey sweet apples, like memory and truth and all the things he wished he had.

"Glitch," she murmured, "I'm so scared." She realised with horror she'd started to cry. Glitch immediately shied away.

"We don't have to –"

She cut him off, would have laughed if not for the fear blooming in her chest.

"It's not this," she assured him. "I'm scared of what might happen if I can't get the Emerald before her. What if I mess things up? Again?"

Glitch offered his soothing smile. "Even with half a brain I know you won't mess up."

She folded her arms around him, pressed her face into the crook of his neck. He smelt like faith and kindness, if it were possible for traits to be smelt. "How did I ever come across a friend like you?" she whispered into his coat.

"We were hanging a hundred feet above munchkin territory…I think."

DG grinned at him. "You remembered!"

"Hey you're right!" He beamed. "Remembered what?"

She sighed, hugging him to her again. "Never mind."

"Hey DG?"

"Mhmm?"

"You're kinda squashing my leg."

He'd lost the depth in his eyes, she noticed, as she slid back from him. Her face fell.

"Do you remember how you got here?"

"I remember sitting on the floor, thinking about…my brain?" He smiled sadly. "I miss my brain." He set to work doing his buttons up again, unaware she'd been the one to pull them free a few minutes ago. "I miss my brain." DG felt like crying again. He'd glitched. He'd forgotten what had just taken place, what had almost happened between them.

When he finished fixing his shirt, he looked worriedly at her.
"DG? Did I upset you?"

You'll never know.

"I'm fine Glitch." She smoothed her hair down. "I just came to see if you were sleeping in here tonight. We're going to bed now."

"Well since I'm already in bed I may as well sleep here, don't you think?" He was forever smiling whenever he forgot. She almost envied him. How do you feel pain when you can't remember it?

"Good night Glitch. We'll get moving in the morning." She left the room with him calling good night to her back. When she was gone he sat staring at the floor for a few moments, certain he'd forgotten something. He touched his lips: they were still warm with the indent of...indent of what? Puzzled, he shirked off his coat and lay down on the bed, dreaming of honey sweet apples and familiar soap.