Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I awoke to a hazy impression of white on white on white, and then an impression of nauseating tenderness in my head. When I actually woke up and looked around, I realized that both of these impressions were correct. I was surrounded by six plush white squares that came together to form the room I was in. No windows. No doors. No bars. No holes.
Nothing.
Not even a sofa. Or a wall painting. Briefly I thought to myself dimly that a skylight would do nicely with the (nonexistent) décor.
Even my clothes had been changed to shocking white during my unconscious state. I just barely had the presence of mind to be indignant about the last, for my mind was occupied with the frantic search to identify a way out.
I scrabbled at the seams of the walls, my heart thumping in my ears as the veins in my head pulsed vilely. I was a rodent in a trap, unable to find a way out, unable to ever escape. The blinding white walls seemed to close in with each passing second. I didn't have the time or control to bottle the scream that clawed its painful way up my throat. A dry sob heaved my chest and I whimpered pathetically, scratching the wall.
"If these walls were glass, they'd have shattered."
I froze; I knew the casual voice; my head lifted and hope swelled in me. "Jack?"
"The one and only," he said. I was too indisposed to contradict there being one Jack in the entire world.
I broke down and dissolved, weeping. "I thought—" I choked on my words, my tears, and my embarrassment.
"Shh. It's alright."
I took a deep shuddering breath. "You must think I'm an awful sissy."
He laughed. "Yes, but I thought that already and deemed it part of your inadvertent charm. How did you get in here?"
"I tried to save you."
He sighed gustily. "I could've told you that wouldn't work," he teased gently.
I managed to laugh somewhat tearfully. "I know," I said, an inch away from sobbing. "I just…" I fell silent, unable to explain my unwonted display of foolish heroics. Instead, I sighed. "What now?"
"Well, I suppose we wait for an ultimatum from the 'powers that be,' or we find a way out." He stopped and I could picture him holding up his index fingers. "Or both."
"There is no way out." Far from my feeling of completion the night before, I now felt the cynical, analytical mentality I had kept for so long slip back in, a shadow ever-looming in the forefront of my mind.
"My dear, there is always a way out. After all, there had to be a way in for us to be in, and therefore there must also be a way out, since we otherwise could not possibly have ended up so very undeniably and completely in, savvy?"
"That does absolutely nothing to comfort me."
"Good. You see, it was meant to confound you."
"What?"
"Nothing, love."
My rationality was dying. Not to mention my mind and my optimism. "I've already told you not to call me that," I said coldly, wanting to cry.
He laughed. "Back to that, are we? Well, just don't forget that the endearment is technically true."
I stiffened. What could I possibly say to that? My breath oozed out of me in a long, disappointed hiss. "Sorry. I'm just… worried."
"Don't be. We're both dead already, so what can they really do to us?" He obviously didn't believe what he was saying. It was a pretty lie for my benefit, and one that I didn't appreciate at the time.
"Plenty of things," I said darkly.
A voice that I recognized as the one I had thought was God up until that point—I finally decisively knew that it could not be the voice of the tender, forgiving God that I loved—boomed into both rooms. "Both of you. You have a choice. If you do not take it, you will be sent immediately to the fires of Hell for perpetual agony. I offer you an escape from eternal torment."
I was too tired to deal with an unseen demon. "Show yourself," I demanded, my voice sharp like the hiss of a blade slicing thin air. "I will not negotiate with an invisible entity."
"Fine."
The cushioned wall between Jack's room and mine vanished and there stood the figure that I no longer could name in good conscience a god.
"What choice?" I asked, my voice tinged with instant suspicion and dripping with venom.
"I present you with a riddle. If you solve it, you both are free."
We glanced at each other. "We choose the riddle," Jack said, and I nodded vigorously.
"Very well," he said ominously. "Here are your clues. The key to flight is the unknown. The unknown is that which was known. Flight is that which was lost. The riddler puts to you, then, a task. This task is to gain the unknown according to these clues. You have until dawn." A stone tablet and an hourglass dramatically materialized before us. The stone tablet was engraved with the riddle (a lucky thing, since neither of us could have written it down, and my memory was certainly not that good.) With that, he—or rather it—vanished.
"Rather dramatic, don't you think?" Jack commented.
"Quite. And I don't think riddler is a word." I started to pace. "Well, let's read it through once more." I picked up the tablet and nearly fell over, outbalanced. "The key to flight is the unknown."
"That's makes sense to some degree."
"The unknown is that which was known."
"That makes no sense at all."
"Flight is that which was lost." I said it more like a question than a statement.
He attempted to be positive. "It's less confusing than the one before it at any rate."
"Your task is to gain flight in accordance with the clues above."
Jack slapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Well. In other words… Flight is what was previously known, and what was previously known was lost."
A moment of silence hung in the air.
"Was that helpful?" I asked somewhat dubiously.
He grimaced. "Not at all."
"Okay, let's see. What does flight represent in classic literature?"
He rolled his eyes. "Plenty of things. Cowardice, for starters."
"Let's see… cowardice is the key to the unknown. The unknown is that which was previously known. Cowardice is that which was lost." I made a face. "That doesn't work. I'm just as afraid of everything as I was before."
"Flight sometimes represents death."
"Okay. Death is the key to the unknown."
"Morbid, but true."
"The unknown is that which was previously known. Death is that which was lost."
Jack fell back casually, but with more violence than grace. The cushions hissed and screamed until finally they cushioned the line of his body. He put his hands behind his head. "So in this quaint, happy little version, the all powerful one is essentially asking us to kill ourselves."
I shook my head. "I don't think death is it. After all, we're living death right now, so it can't be unknown. And we didn't know death before, so the unknown is not previously known. It must be something else." The sand in the hourglass shifted noisily.
It shifted noisily for some time, the both of us racking our minds until—
"Freedom!" Jack burst out.
I was lethargic from sitting for so long. My reaction time had slowed to that of a very thick slug who wouldn't know the difference between salt and pepper even if they were poured in mass quantities upon it. "What?"
"Freedom is the key to the unknown and freedom is what was lost too!" he exclaimed.
I blinked. "Then what's the unknown?"
"I have no idea."
We lapsed once more into baffled silence. "The unknown is that which was known," I murmured.
Jack began to rearrange the words. "What was known is now unknown. The known is now not so. The known is now beyond knowing." I was utterly confused, but continued to listen in the hope that an idea would jump out of my headache like Athena, fully clothed with spear in hand and helmet on head. "The unknown is known by those who live in the past. The past is unknown. History is unknown, but was known when it happened."
"Jack!" I screamed, bolting to my feet. "You're a genius!"
"Of course I am. What makes you say something so obvious?"
"Memory!" I shouted. "Memory is the unknown. Memory is that which was known. Jack, it all fits! The key to freedom is memory. My memory. My identity. The unknown is that which was known. Memory is that which was known." Hope rose within me.
Jack faced me and took my hands in his. "Freedom is that which was lost."
"I just need my identity!" I felt like screaming in excitement.
His eyes were solemn and his face utterly grave. "Now think. Who are you?"
The last grain of sand fell.
"Now show me the unknown, which you have gained, or you're both off to eternal torment, for I am God, all powerful!" The being had appeared the moment the last grain of sand touched the piece of glass at the bottom.
I racked my mind for a name—anything—a nickname, a surname, a first name, a middle name; anything to appease the being before me. My heart seemed to freeze in brief and painful immobility, pressing, contracting, but unable to move. Jack's fingers curled around mine and he gave me a little squeeze. It was like a kickstart to my blood, and instantly my mind began to clear. "I'm more than willing to fulfill your request," I started. My eyes finally flicked up and I kept them on the being, steady and sharp as I leveled my gaze. "Lucifer."
The devil flinched away as if I had struck it—and I suppose in some respects, I did. I'd hit the nail on the head. Power swelled within me with every breath of air. "My name is Momoko Kusakawa," I said, stepping forward as it writhed and hissed, shrinking away from me. My voice was a quiet metallic hiss, not carrying beyond the ears of the three of us. "And you will no longer control me, demon."
"Can you blame me?" The demon's voice was quietly corrosive. "Can you honestly say you would not have done the same if given a chance? Who wouldn't jump at the chance to have the power of a God?"
"Shewouldn't have," Jack said offhandedly, pointing.
"Lucifer. Fallen angel," I mused thoughtfully. "I do not think it is power that we all want, so much as… infinite redemption. Always having the option of forgiveness. That's why we all like the story of the prodigal son."
Lucifer was silent and unreadable.
"Perhaps," I said tentatively, "You are the prodigal son. But you just don't know it yet."
The room surged with white light and the devil screamed a god awful scream like nails down a chalkboard.
"You!" it shrieked, curling up in pain.
The light did not speak. It could not. But a sense of God's awe inspiring power and complete dominion washed over the three of us. All at once I wished to laugh, cry, howl—anything! I kneeled down.
The demon's long, hissing screech was like daggers scraping my eardrums. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
The world went black.
"So, it's all over, then."
"It is." He smiled. No, it was more of a smirk. "Momoko." He made the syllables of my lost name sing.
"You never told me the end of that story."
"They all lived happily ever after," he teased. Jack swept me off my feet, literally. I laughed in surprise. It was over. Relief flooded me. My life and identity were mine again. And I was his.
I smiled. "Don't be boring. Surely we can think of something better to do than go happily ever after-ing."
He kissed me. "Your wish is my command, my lady."
And we lived happily ever after. Sort of.
A/N: I'm sorry. This is way out of line. I don't even know how I dare return to this after an almost year long hiatus. I am ashamed of my conduct and I apologize for this shoddy ending. I'm so sorry! I hadn't even meant to finish this. I got to a point and did not know how to end it. So here I am, a year later, babbling to a group of people that I have probably incensed. I am truly sorry and I hope that you all will forgive me.
Thank you for reading. I am sorry about the wait. If it will make you feel better, flame me. I know I deserve it. I am more of a reader than a writer, and as a reader, I know I would be throwing cabbage at myself at this point. In fact, if it makes anyone feel better about the situation, I practically am throwing cabbage at myself (or at least kicking myself.)
Thank you for your kind words of encouragement and your endurance in the face of my pigheadedness. I owe you all.
With love and apologies,
-music nerd
