Fake

I know it was scary,
But it wasn't real.
Many things on TV
Are fake.
You'll be able to tell
The difference
Someday.

When Callie wakes up, her mind filled with Bomb Rush Blush in Octarian and the filming she has to do, it takes her a moment to remember where she is. Supposedly. Moonlight slipping in through the window, pink sheets and coverlet, a small green blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Jolty thrown on the ground. She picks him up and hugs him, squeezing him tight against her.

She's been gone for six months, and the doctor said she lost weight and should see a therapist. She refused to go into detail about what happened, making him think she was traumatized, but it was really to protect the NSS. She's Agent 1. It's a real organization.

In theory.

She's not going to get back to sleep now, not with this headache in the back of her brain, so she gets out of bed, still holding Jolty, and leaves her room. Her laptop's on the coffee table where she left it, covered in stickers and stars, and she runs one finger over it before opening it up.

Days ago—months ago, if what Mary—Marie tells her is true—Callie disappeared. That was when she moved into the hotel for filming Fortunate Betrayal. Online, she's not listed with the cast; she never got the part. She likely never auditioned. Her stomach clenches, but she cues up an episode, first one she was supposed to be in, the one where she danced with the roller and stole the 'priceless artifact' that they turned into a tattoo, and cuddles with Jolty while it plays. She's not in it. The plot isn't remotely the same.

So it wasn't real.

But is anything now?

Callie hits a few keys, setting up her laptop in ways she knows by heart, until she can just pick up the remote and watch on the tv. She watches herself spin onto stage opposite the green stranger who might be her cousin and the two of them launch into Calamari Inkantation to proud cheers. Callie finds herself humming along. When Marie/y was with her, they danced together. Callie knew all the steps, knew all the words, even the harmonies, for a magic song said to fight brainwashing. One she's had people tell her is terrible and laugh at her because of.

While brainwashed?

It seems like it. And that song is the only reason she knows.

Someone sits on the couch, and Callie flinches. She clutches Jolty, presses against the couch's opposite arm, and glances at Mar from the corner of her eye. Mar's tentacles are loose around her shoulders, and she sits straight-backed and alert in a green tanktop and leggings. "Couldn't sleep?"

On screen, the two of them take their bows, after their second—and last—song. Callie reaches for the remote, presses a button, cycles at random to a day on the news, where she's with Mar again. The stages of the day were Moray Towers and Bluefin Depot. "It's like you said. We've been singing together for years."

And Callie remembers it, she thinks, she was so sure she had someone with her in that singing contest as a squidling, but.

Her head hurts.

"Since we were kids. I know they..." Mar trails off—Marie, they introduced themselves when they finished the news, and Callie changes it again at random. "I know they really screwed with your head, with those glasses. Don't you remember?"

Warmth presses inside Callie's eyes, and she focuses on the screen to keep the tears away. She does remember. She doesn't remember. "When I'd been filming there for about a week, I mentioned..." What did she mention? Something about her career. "I can't remember. And Harbor looked at me funny, and asked if I was feeling okay, because I'd been a solo act for longer than he'd been in Inkopolis. And I remember thinking it couldn't be right, and running to my room, and checking all the recordings. And I was alone."

Checking the recordings, just like she's doing now.

But now she's not alone, on screen.

"Well, you're not alone now," says Marie, and she stretches an arm towards Cal, and Callie presses further against the arm of the couch, away from Marie, before she can think about it, squeezes Jolty like the lifeline he is. She keeps her eyes on the screen, on the two of them dancing to City of Color, and feels more than sees Marie pull away.

When the song ends, Marie speaks again. "You can talk to me about anything, okay?" What? "It's all right." No, it's not. "Whatever it is, I won't be mad."

No. But Marie may be sad, or broken, and somehow that feels worse. Callie knows that Marie mad is—well, she cools off quickly, and Callie has to have known Marie before to know that, she doesn't stay mad unless it's a Huge Freaking Issue.

And this is probably a Huge Freaking Issue, but Callie doesn't have anyone else to ask, and she's tired, and on screen the two of them are doing Calamari Inkantation again and even though the words are the terrible ones she wrote a terrible thing she did because she may have a voice but she can't write music at all the song gives her courage. It tells her this is real. And then it ends.

But she clings to that courage and presses her eyes shut and, before she loses her nerve, "How do I know this isn't fake, too?"

The couch creaks as Marie shifts position, but she doesn't try to touch Callie again. "It's real. I promise."

Callie opens her eyes to watch them stay fresh, the stage full of flowers, and walk off. "But how do I know you're even there, saying anything?" Callie reaches for the remote, then stops, because she's come on alone with... a broom? And she plops it down and starts sweeping up everything everyone threw at them, while the crowd goes wild with laughter and cheers. "I had no idea what—I couldn't tell, Mar. Marie? I still don't know. How do I ever..." Callie's voice catches.

She clears her throat, but it doesn't help, the stinging and pressure in her eyes as they start to blur and Callie abandons the remote to press her hands against her eyes, Jolty falling in her lap. It's not the headache causing this. She wishes it was. "I spent—it was months—and I just... I didn't know."

Callie gasps, fighting a sob, and Marie shifts closer and stops. "Callie. May I hug you? Please."

Callie wants to be hugged, but what if it isn't real it could be anyone but what if it is and she doesn't know. She doesn't know. "If you're you, then—but if you're not—but..." Callie gasps for breath, her whole body shaking, "I can't—a stranger—when—just—I can't."

Callie shoves herself against the arm of the couch, as far away as she can get, but Marie doesn't move towards her. "Okay," Marie says, her voice thick but quiet. "Can you focus on your breathing for me? I'm going to count, and I want you to breathe in on my count, and out, okay?"

That, Callie can do. And she does, breathing with Marie, in and out, slowly, and something in her hearts knows this is familiar, but she just. She can't.

She doesn't know.