"Wilson, please, don't do this. You don't know what could happen!"

"Look at me, Willow. We've gone this far and we can't just give up now. Don't you want to go home? Isn't that what we both wanted? To go home?"

"Yeah, but…not like this, it can't be like this. I don't think that will solve anything!"

"…Wilson?"

"WILSON! DON'T!"

The puppet master only watched helplessly as they neared the lock; shadows cackling with pure excitement. After all this time…

Willow lunged at the divining rod clenched in Wilson's hand and the two fought with anger written on their faces. "WILSON! STOP! PLEASE!"

Here's chapter 2 of "Memory"! I'm planning on including a flashback for the beginning of every chapter and it will most likely contain their most precious moments or their time before the throne. As for Wilson and Willow's memory, it's a bit complicated because there's some things they don't remember (and the topic is somewhat sensitive) but hopefully it will be clearer as the story goes on. Enjoy!

Thanks for the reviews as well! Reviews always encourage me to write more chapters. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Don't Starve or any of its characters.

Never did Willow think she would hate mornings to the ultimate degree.

In the middle of winter they were severe, and she always woke up feeling like a frozen Popsicle under matted hay sheets. That's what caused her to rely more on her massive bonfires for warmth instead of body heat alone. The old tent was still good for use since the last time she inhabited it, but it was now coated in multiple layers of dust, dirt, and had an overwhelming scent of nature. Even though she was its creator, she showed no admiration to it as it sat alone in its corner, going unnoticed throughout the entire day.

Her supply of fuel for the fire was also running dry which meant that she would have to head out again to attend to the task. It would be no problem – all of the trees around her base were burnt and crisp and she'd be able to collect an adequate amount of charcoal.

Heading out into the wilderness with a gold-headed ax, Willow counted all of the cooked trees in the vicinity. Around a dozen; should be enough for a couple of nights… She chopped the barren stalks with ease and looted its remains. She stopped at the last piece when her stomach grumbled. She almost forgot about eating.

Her icebox surely had none left, and if it did it was most likely rotten. Where would she collect food in the middle of winter? Her stomach complained louder and she acknowledged it with a growl. "Okay, okay! I'll go find some food…"

Every direction was stripped barren of sustenance and there was no way she could see through the thick forest surrounding her. A hunting and gathering mission was in order. Willow went back to drop off the charcoal and then immediately began digging through her chests. She happened to find some extra gold and sticks and grass, fortunately needed to craft more tools. A backpack would be necessary as well, but that meant she would have to take off Wilson's coat. Her mind pondered of one or the other until she came to a decision.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't need this anymore…"

Willow tossed the jacket onto Wilson's old lab table and immediately shivered at the cold flooding over her arms. Did they have any silk yet?

Yes, they did, but it was little. Enough to make only one winter hat that would last her a few weeks give or take. When she finished replenishing her inventory of necessities, it was too late to head out for a hunt. That meant no dinner tonight, much to her despise.

Just in case, she checked the fridge for food and was indeed correct – the only thing inhabiting it was rot. She crunched her nose in disgust and shut the lid. If she could just pull off one more day she'd be fine.

Without taking time to admire the fire, Willow grumpily walked into the tent; if she couldn't eat for another eight hours, she might as well get it over with.

She didn't get any sleep for the rest of the night.

That morning, her stomach felt like it was going to tear itself apart. Her hand clenched it with pressure. She needed to eat. Now.

She was almost unable to get herself out of the tent and put her gear on. The extreme pains grew worse with each step, but it energized her to find food as soon as possible. Rabbit traps were a good idea as well as some for birds, so she planted them around the walls of the camp. Next came leaving the biome which she found the most ultimate struggle. It was with great perseverance that she pushed to find the things of utmost importance.

Starving wasn't going to be an option today.

"You would think she would have given up by now," Wilson said with disbelief.

"She's a fighter. Crush her, kill her," They urged.

"Perhaps one day, but not now. It's far too early for that. We'll see to her time eventually."

"You're weak."

"Maybe so, but I have a plan."

"You're a liar," They spat.

"Hush hush, now." And They remained silent.

There he lurked in the shadows of tall evergreens, watching her, observing every move and contemplation until the data was inserted into his mind. The trembling fire starter, lingering on the edge of the woods, walking as broken as an unstrung marionette.

He didn't want to admit it, but he enjoyed studying her. She was such a fascinating creature. If only he remembered who she used to be, because no matter how long he thought about her there would be no reconnection. If only he could manipulate time and turn it back so that he could witness what he once forgot.

He stared closely at her body, exploring through her scars and every little detail blessed among her skin. She was imperfection and he loved it.

But he wanted to destroy her as well. He wanted to follow Their orders and wipe her out; she was such an old experiment. Wilson had new lab rats that were much more interesting to toy with. A speechless mime, a bereaved little girl, and a lumberjack with a secret? Much more interesting than a pyromaniac, and the shadows agreed.

However, he couldn't get rid of her and he didn't know why. There was something about her that made him…tingle, but he didn't know what. That was why he wanted to invest in her. And if They found out about what was truly happening within the overland, Wilson wouldn't live to see the next day.

He chuckled to himself. He was going to beat Them at their own game.

For the next couple of days he continued to observe her closely. Every angle at which the sun hit her, every little decision she made, and he had come to a conclusion.

Willow was incredibly upset. He didn't know who she was angry at but it didn't take an intelligent scientist like himself to know that it was mostly at herself. He planned to confront her about it later.

"Curse this stupid island, curse Wilson, curse everything!"

Did he just hear his name somewhere? He peeked from the darkness of the shadows; yes, it was summoned by Willow. She was bundled by the fire pit and was clenching a piece of charcoal in her fist. It smeared black marks onto her palm, some edges cutting her flesh and drawing blood. She didn't notice as she slammed the coal into the flame.

"Say pal, you don't look so good."

Willow's nails dug into the log, face pale as the snow she trekked in as she turned to look at the sudden voice.

"Wilson, don't scare me like that." She rubbed her sore hands soothingly, "I'm just fine."

He raised a brow in disbelief. "Your hands say otherwise. Why are you so angry, Willow?"

Angry? She was angry? She didn't necessarily believe that it was anger that was causing her to act so brutally upon herself and the camp. Now that she was more focused on the topic, the lacerations on her palm stung more noticeably from the brisk winter wind. She winced at the pool of blood forming in her cupped hands.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Huh?"

He sighed. "There really is something wrong with you," the man replied with some seriousness, "but that does not mean I am going to stop pretending to be your own personal therapist until you tell me what's wrong."

Therapist? Those..those people…Her parents took her to see therapists all the time when she was younger.

"There's nothing wrong with me."

Wilson grabbed her wrists with sudden force causing her to cry out in shock. He threatened to twist them in a way that could intentionally sprain them. The blood on her hands spilled onto his skin and splattered his clothing.

"What are you doing?!" She screeched. He refused to let go.

"W-Wilson stop, you're hurting me!" She wailed as she tried to detach herself from him.

Even though it felt as if her wrists were twisting on their own, she knew that wasn't the case. This man had another personality – a cold, heartless, unforgiving one. And she didn't like it at all.

They had a stare-down that lasted minutes and Wilson was the victor. He contorted her wrists so far back that it forced a tear to slip from her eyes. "Please let me go," she begged.

The moment she started crying he let go, but it was unknown if pity was the reason. He gave her time to examine what he did to her. Wilson didn't completely understand why he hurt Willow, nor why he didn't stop himself when she was ordering him to. Neither did he feel affected by her pain. He unconsciously bit his lip. Did he enjoy this? Hurting her until she cried? It…it felt so-

He stopped his thinking when he heard a sniffle come from the fire starter. Curious, he looked to see her massaging her tender wrists with vigilance, all because of his attack on her, because he would have crushed her like a bug if it weren't for that tingling feeling, and if it was not for that familiar sensation of warmth that made his heart rise whenever he looked at her. If only They explained it to him. He snickered inwardly; They wouldn't.

Back to Willow – she was crying more now, and taking more deep breaths as her cheeks grew puffy from wetness. She was like a child who dropped a scoop of her ice cream. He'd never seen her cry before. It was an entirely new experience to him. Was he feeling…guilty from all this? No, can't be, couldn't be. It must be some other emotion toying with him. Emotion cannot get in the way of science. Not on his terms it won't.

"Willow."

She wiped away some tears and turned to face the other way.

"Willow," he repeated again.

Now she wasn't responding to him at all. "You're mad at me aren't you? I did what I had to do, you know. For science. It's nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you still need to answer my question."

Willow continued to ignore him. Fine, let her think what she wanted to. He would just have to visit her again when she wasn't being so hotheaded. And of course, for his sake and Theirs.

Wilson leaned over and bestowed her with a kiss to the top of her head. She flinched under his touch. "Remember our deal, sweetheart."

He got up to leave and then with a quiet tone added, "And stop being so angry all the time."

But before he could snap his fingers and disappear in a cloud of smoke, she stopped him with an oddly familiar insult, "You're an idiot."

His eyes narrowed. An idiot, huh?

"Oh, so now you speak to me."

"I don't want you to go," she admitted with a wavering voice that faltered.

"But I hurt you."

"You're my only company."

"And?"

"I want you to stay with me. Just for the night and then you can leave forever if that's what you want." Wilson scoffed at the latter notion. "Stay with me, just for tonight. Please."

The puppet master stared at the girl, deciding his decision with every possible outcome that were to happen if he stayed. She gazed up at him with misty, expectant eyes. Guiltiness, there it was, hiding in his heart for this moment and this moment alone.

"Will it make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll stay with you."

He had a feeling of déjà vu and Willow noticed it too. Both stared at each other, aghast, but Willow was the first to let the familiarity go. Instead of questioning it, she moved away to fetch something. Upon examination he could see that in her hands was a bundle of carrots and several honey bandages, most likely for her hand. That's right, it was still cut and welted from the charcoal.

The couple sat in silence as Willow layered the honey coated bandages on her cuts. She stuck her tongue out in disgust and Wilson laughed a real laugh for what felt like in forever.

When she finished and the bandages were securely wrapped around her palm, she began to snack on one of the carrots. They sat in bliss, both comfortable by the silence that issued. For the first time in a long time they felt happy. Like nothing in the world couldn't take their moment away from them, and Wilson made sure that none would. Not even Them.

Wait, what was he saying?!

He didn't even notice Willow resting peacefully against his shoulder. The expression of lethargy after a long day was distinct on her face until she fell asleep. She snored slightly which he found cute – he pinched himself after thinking that – and couldn't stop himself from brushing his thumbs over her swollen wrists.

After losing his mind that evening, he finally came to a conclusion. He was supposed to reveal his plan by the time night arrived but she slept before she could give him the chance.

He wanted her to find him; that she must find him for hidden reasons to himself. It was urgent enough for him to have concerns. He wanted to see if she could withstand what adventure he had in store for her. To see what really crushed her, and who or what can bend her so far she'll snap.

All in the name of science.

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