CW: Rapid switching from cute fluff/comedy to serious child abuse around 3/4 in.
[X]
[Winter-Spring 1908, New Orleans]
When it was already too late, he sensed the cold, sharp touch of a claw against his throat.
...And then he heard a sweet giggle fit coming from behind him. Al steadied himself and whipped around, already laugh-snorting himself. He'd grown so used to this particular shenanigan that he could rebound from startled to amused in moments. "You got me!"
"Looks like your reflexes still need work, darling. But any day now, you'll keep me from check-mating you. I have faith." Terri pecked him on the crown of the head.
Unlike the pseudo sneak attacks, each time this happened Alastor remained exactly as surprised as the first time. He felt stunned, maybe uncomfortable, but also...soft and fuzzy like a cotton ball inside. It was nice, he admitted, to have someone be affectionate on a regular basis. He just wasn't used to it yet.
"Care for some frittata for breakfast? Make sure you eat up—you need your energy to hunt!" Every time this line was delivered, the little human's ears pricked up just a bit more, eyes glinted more brightly. She'd been right about this one—he loved it. It wasn't something she'd reared into him; he'd drawn her in because he already had this in him. Encountering low statistical probabilities, Terri thought, was one of nature's greatest delights; stumbling upon this special child was indeed a miracle.
But it didn't erase her basic need for sustenance.
Affection given freely in a long-term emotional bond was both the ideal form of sustenance and the most ethical way to obtain it, but the set-up wasn't perfectly symbiotic. Terri quickly remembered she was essentially a parasite, noticing that Alastor seemed awfully tired sometimes. Once freed from his downer father's influence, and after his living situation re-stabilized, the little boy's playfulness bounced back three-fold, so at first she assumed he was crashing after bouts of hyperactive enthusiasm. But it was more than that; even slowly using a renewable resource drained him. She shouldn't have been surprised. It took a lot of energy to love Terese, in more ways than one. Plus, most people have networks of relationships in which they both give and receive love, so no one person shoulders most of the emotional labor. Alastor suffered this side effect because Terri was too difficult to keep anyone else around. The beldam would need supplementary food. On days when he seemed particularly lethargic and peaked, she'd give the boy a big meal and tell him to sleep well for a hunting trip the next day.
Terri didn't mind the continued hunting efforts, as it was a bonding activity, and she was still far more food secure now than she'd been before. Plus, with a permanent parent-child relationship came the opportunity to accumulate an entire brood. If Terri could find another one like this boy and breed them, she'd have not only a troupe of adorable killing machines, but also a network of hearts from which to leech, minimizing how much she strained any one of them and...a family.
Terri's desires had become so much simpler since meeting Alastor. It was impossible to return to the lofty status she'd occupied once, but she'd continued dreaming big dreams to keep morale up. Dreams of toppling power structures, dismantling all that was expendable, acquiring seas of adoring worshippers, feeling the full force of her power again, reclaiming the respect- or at least fear- of those who had jeered at or rejected her. (Perhaps even doing all this with an empowered little heir by her side. If, in return for assisting her, she could actually make him a prince, surely he would love her forever?) Now the beldam found herself remembering that, despite her strong narcissistic streak, ruling an empire was never her dream. It was too much effort. Terri originally wanted only enough love to keep her nourished- the love of a small family. Even one companion would do.
But no one had tolerated her for longer than a few weeks...until now. She was motivated to try again, not merely perform. The witch found herself mulling over a thought she'd barely entertained before meeting Alastor- could she escape being a parasite? Could she be a good guardian, who provided? Would she like that?
The beldam considered this after their hunt, when Alastor remarked gently that hunting was the only activity they enjoyed together outside the den. The pathologically vain part of her was miffed that he felt the need to go out for any reason other than hunt and avoid deterioration. She could build most things he might want inside her home. Still, Terese didn't want him growing bored of her already. What else could they do outside? Terri's brain sailed past every normal bonding activity the mortal world had to offer and landed on something she assumed was more his speed.
The next morning, Alastor awoke to the usual scent of breakfast cooking but found an odd sight in the kitchen. Independently-working utensils magically prepared the food for Terri as she stood, back turned to the stove, focusing on a different task- determining the fate of the stack of crucifixes she'd piled on the dining table. "Oh, hello, Button!" she greeted him at the sound of his footsteps, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "I'm going to use these crosses for the fireplace. Have any requests for what I should make with the metal when I melt it down?"
"Aunt Terri…" Alastor chose his words carefully. "It's not what you're doing that worries me...It's whatever you're about to do that requires this as the first step."
"These needed to come down at some point," she remarked of the excessive crucifixes Camille had hung throughout the home. "They don't hurt me." She lifted one and tapped her other hand with it. "I just find them offensive."
Huh. This again. The woman who insisted she was a goddess must envy widely-celebrated deities, as every so often she'd raise a similar sentiment. Last time, it entailed dumping a cup of olive oil on his head from behind and, as he spluttered and flailed, gleefully declaring him 'un-baptized' and 'officially all hers.'
("I-! Wha-? Why?! ...Is it because oil and water don't mix?!"
"Best I could do."
"I do not think that's how it works!"
"It works because I say so! I always know best, don't I, Button?")
Terri interrupted his memory of her shenanigan, explaining the house's de-crucifix-ation: "I hoped we'd embark on a fun outing later, and these might make it harder to open the portal."
As Terri pointed downward, Alastor cocked one eyebrow and barely stifled a snort. No way. "Are you serious?"
"I know you want to see if Hell really exists, and I'd like you to see I haven't promised you a crock. But it's also very entertaining! Now, could you help me with these?"
As they carried the crosses through the hallway to dump them on her side, Al had to ask, "Why not just open the portal from your end?"
"There isn't as direct of a connection on that side," she explained vaguely, dumping the icons near her basement doorway and rummaging through boxes for some chalk.
Al's curiosity was seriously piqued now. One possibility: the Other World was more isolated from the mortal world than he'd thought if, of the two, Hell more closely connected to Earth. Another hilarious- yet somehow not unbelievable- possibility: Aunt Terri's passage to Hell was actively discouraged. Would the citizens of Hell collectively place a low-key restraining order on Terri McGyver? By the time they'd returned to his side of the house, Alastor's facial expression must have been shouting a very amused 'maybe' because Terri was asking, "Chiiild, why are you looking at me like there's something silly on my head that I don't know about?"
"I'm not!" he denied, poorly taming the facial tick that bubbled over at the mental image of Lucifer shaking his fist at McGyver to stay out, the same way Terri did at Pluto. Al replaced it with serious thoughts to avoid laughing. Visiting Hell now could forewarn him of later challenges, but he had reasonable concerns.
Al was one of few who'd lasted long enough to notice: concealed beneath the veneer of Terri's perfect mother charade was a reckless woman-child whose eagerness to entertain sometimes came at the expense of bare minimum, common-sense safety or child-appropriateness. For every few 'normal' motherly acts she performed robotically, as if reading from a script, she'd perform a few completely outrageous ones, especially now that she thought she was dealing with a 'special' (read as: 'not lame') child. So Al thought it wise to check: "Are you certain Hell is hospitable to the living?"
"I had not considered that." Untrue, but she enjoyed keeping him on his toes. "But today is as good as any to test it. Feeling courageous, my little lab rat? Aww, have I found your line?" Terri chuckled at his nose wrinkling. "I've never seen you disinterested in adventure. Don't worry, I'm doing you a big favor- once we visit Hell a few times, nothing here will intimidate you anymore! Now eat up. But not too much. We have a long rabbit hole to jump through, and the temperature shock might make you nauseous," she warned, handing him some neatly-folded summer clothes from storage. "It won't feel like winter there."
The image Alastor had conjured paled to the reality he faced when they prepared to leave. Terri opened the most pitch black tunnel he'd ever seen, no end in sight, not even one with stars to indicate how far down they were. Perhaps because he was looking down, not up? "That is a very deep rabbit hole, Aunt Terri."
"The deepest! It'll be so fun, Button!" He didn't want to look cowardly, but this was a rather extreme unknown. Keeping a close eye on Terri, Al backed away before she could push him. "I wasn't going to push you. Why would you think such a thing?"
"Yes, and the sky is green."
Terri pursed her lips in silent laughter, then immaturely "Bawwwk, bawkbawkbawk!"ed, using her chicken mitt like a hand puppet. Terri knew Alastor couldn't tolerate being called chicken for long.
"Aren't you meant to be the adult here? You can stop that, I'll-" As Al stepped forward, Terri tripped him, caught his hand as he fell mid-sentence, and quickly wrapped all six arms wrapped around him like a skydiving chaperone before gravity ripped him away.
Adult Alastor would be an unshakeable thrill seeker, but this was child Alastor's first experience with something so batshit insane. It felt more disconcerting to be sucked down rather than yanked up, and as they plummeted through the tunnel, the echo created the illusion that he was screaming louder than it should be possible to scream. When a circle of light finally appeared and they were ejected, Al wondered why he was still hearing echoes until he realized it was others' terrified screeching somewhere nearby.
"So? Did you enjoy skydiving, darling? I believe this makes you one of the first civilians to do it! Proud?" Al was still catching his breath, but he'd taken it in stride better than the average child. "Was that scary?" Terri asked. He thought she'd mock him, but she patted his cheek and told him warmly, "You did very well."
Al half wheezed, half laughed as the corner of his smile returned. It was incredible, in retrospect. Now that he knew it wasn't fatal, he'd be up for it again.
"I know how to get the rest of that smile baaaack," Terri sang, gesturing ahead. "LooLoo Land!"
Although it had only copied the name of more recently-opened LuLu World within the last decade, early proto-LooLoo Land had been operating as a carnival since the mid-1800s- just long enough to have started growing into a (pseudo)serious enterprise, and more than enough time to become infamous for its off-the-wall, blatant disregard for safety (even before more complex, motorized rides were available). Luckily for the Greed Ring's Prince Mammon, the citizens of Hell couldn't turn down a dare. Al observed as, in the distance, patrons met horrifying injury, dismemberment, and psychological trauma at the hands of brightly-colored death traps.
"Oh, no!" Terri laughed, inferring Al's thoughts. "We won't ride most of those things. I'm not an insane person." Insert laugh track here. "We came here to watch." Watching would be a blast even now, but, she thought with her future-sense prickling, she couldn't wait to see what the place would be like if Mulvihill ever got involved!
Alastor broke into an evil little giggle. "Oh! That could be fun!"
"The thing is...you're not supposed to beee here," Terri hissed through closed teeth. "Soooo you wouldn't mind if I slipped a little glamour on you?" Before he could respond, she illusioned an imp child's appearance over his human one and immediately dissolved into overwhelmed cooing. "Sun and moon, that's the sweetest thing I've ever seen! Wait. Wait." The little bowtie was now green with the pattern of Greed Ring currency on it. "Perfect!" In order to not be flagged as human contraband herself, Terese left all of her spider arms visible and button eyes unobscured. "Now, one moment. Don't run off!" she said, and Al suddenly found himself with...a leash?
"Absolutely not!"
"It's just so you don't get lost," she assured him. "It may look like a circus, but Hell is a dangerous place, and I know how curious you are. You're not going in there without it." Al's grimace did nothing to dissuade her. "You're even adorable when you make that face," Terri gushed.
"Do you see anyone else putting children on leashes?" Alastor asked, prompting Terri to gesture at several cases. Crap! It appeared culturally acceptable to leash children here! Too bad. He narrowed his eyes. "Respectfully, no, ma'am."
Terri raised a finger and pursed her lips. Moment of truth... She sighed. "Fine. I expect you will behave." The 'respectfully' helped, but she still shocked herself by conceding to the child. She couldn't afford to spoil him- the human had to remain well-trained and obedient. But seconds later, she was relieved she hadn't lost her temper, as Alastor took her hand to illustrate he wouldn't wander off. Precious thing!
At the entrance was a marionette predecessor to Robo-Fizzarolli. Disconcertingly, the enchanted puppet's strings seemed to end in thin air above him, jerked around by an invisible force. "Well, well, if it isn't 'Terri McGyver' with two 'R's and no 'A's to avoid lawsuits!" Fizz joked, brazenly breaking the fourth wall.
When he requested the admission fee, Terri sidled up to the puppet and whispered, "Friend, you know I said I'd only invest in this questionable establishment for a discount."
"I don't believe that's in writing anywhere," Fizz retorted, eliciting a smug 'Told you it's a good idea' look from Alastor. "F*** off, McGyver," the marionette added.
The child was now completely taken aback. Where he came from, this language was not yet used so casually out loud with women. The boy magically exploded the calliope playing behind Fizz, and a few stray sparks set the wooden puppet aflame. Terri cackled as Fizz helplessly stopped, dropped, and rolled. "Free admission! Thanks, sweetie!" she praised as they walked through the gate unimpeded. "I should tell you, though, people say that the same way they say 'hello' here."
"...Oops." The mischievous child looked grateful that he'd made this fun mistake. She was rubbing off on him! Unexpected joys of parenthood- molding the children into your image! That was what it was all about, right?
They spent a solid hour wandering around howling with laughter at others who limped off rides looking singed or bent, or had their wallets cleaned at game tents. Alastor's moral compass wouldn't spring into action to defend someone fool enough to hop on a jerky wooden rollercoaster with almost completely open-front cars and only a loosely-tied jump-rope for a seatbelt, or, literally, a large tire being shot into the air by a rubber band sling. The tire seemed intended to clear- but probably didn't always- a filthy-looking man-made pond with small boats from which children shot paintball cannons at each other. Some of the children devilishly sparked matches under the guns, setting the balls alight as they flew from the barrel. While Alastor and Terri watched, one flaming ball landed in the oily run-off from the boats, circling an entire boat in flame while the merciless implings in the other boat pelted their screaming competitors with paintballs.
Terri encouraged Alastor to ride an unholy combination of tilt-a-whirl and bumper cars, insisting he could trust her. The ride was not meant to be similar to bumper cars. The tracks were just shoddily-assembled enough to allow for the occasional crash, instead of the deliberate near-miss familiar to carnival-goers. It would be nerve-wracking if not accompanied by someone who seemed able to predict and steer away from every collision, causing others in turn. When they emerged, the child wore an ear-to-ear devilish smile that comes from the specific joy of experiencing good luck where others have experienced bad. "Can you...do that...again, please?!"
An early photo booth with backdrops allowing patrons to mock religious iconography created a treasure of a memento. A grainy sepia Brownie print-out now existed of Al and Terri positioned under painted halo-crowns. Terri, as the Virgin Mary, mimed adjusting her crown with one hand- which subtly flipped off the sky- as Alastor laid across three of her other strong arms, grinning like a ham and finger-gunning under the baby Jesus halo.
"Pssst," Terri whispered, pointing at a traditional 'shoot the target' game. "We won't win, but their boss will make them put up with anything. And you can't permanently maim them. He'll heal right up!"
"Honest?" asked a wide-eyed Alastor.
"Honest!" Terri intertwined her pinky finger with his. "This is Hell, so you know they deserve to take at least a little guff," she fibbed, omitting that Greed Ring citizens weren't human sinners. They shot him twelve times, pinning him to the target, where other carnival-goers quickly took bloodthirsty aim as Terri and Alastor stole their corn dogs while they weren't looking.
Alastor eventually caught on to Terri's fibbing, having overheard conversations in which carnival-goers referenced 'human souls' in a manner suggesting they'd never been human themselves. "So these are all dead humans?" he probed.
"Yyyyeeeess." The child knowingly glared her down. "Oh, alright. This is the Greed Ring. The dead humans are in the Pride Ring."
"So that man back there wasn't in Hell because he was a sinner?"
Grinning sheepishly, Terri argued, "Don't worry, they're all sinners. The natives are raised that way!"
Al hummed in displeasure but shook it off and asked, "Can we see the Pride Ring? I want to know where I'm going to 'live' one day."
(Canned record screech.) "Of course! But it's challenging to move between rings with contraband, and I'm tired. Would you like to go another time?" Alastor activated wide-eyed puppy dog mode. With the impsona, it was nearly unbearable, but Terri was firm. "Next week, perhaps?" The little boy acquiesced; he was tired and overheated, too.
Terese joyfully soaked in the child's appreciation, but her good mood was interrupted shortly. Miffed about being set on fire earlier and still looking crispy, Fizz taunted her as they passed back through the gate, "I don't know what stuns me more- that you got one to set foot in here, or that you left with him still breathing."
"Jimmy enjoyed it," Terri reminded the jester smugly.
"Oh, yeah," Fizz murmured. "I'll be sure to keep a fire extinguisher on hand, assuming I'll see this one more than once."
Terri soured immediately and brushed Alastor aside to whisper something vulgar in Fizz's ear without the boy overhearing. (The beldam tried to keep up appearances as a well-mannered, respectable lady for the children, if only so they'd practice good manners for her, but Terri had been socialized by both Earth's and Hell's cultures and could switch gears in milliseconds.) "I don't have to take this from a shitty, overly-elaborate painted dildo whose cheap hooker cousin I f***ed in the Lust Ring last week. Sorry you couldn't keep a job there. Can't imagine what prevents a wooden dick from working. What a failure."
"Sorry to hear you have to pay for sex, McGyver," Fizz shot back. "Do fewer people have a mommy fetish than you thought?" To be fair, she'd walked right into that one, but Terri nearly strangled Fizz with his own strings. "Don't make a joke if you can't take a joke!" the puppet chided in response to her expression.
Alastor wondered what the puppet could've said to make the normally poker-faced woman so flushed. "Shall I light him up again, Aunt Terri?" he vaguely threatened Fizz.
"Come, Spiderling." Terri disregarded his offer and tugged him forward. "Let's go home and eat something that hasn't been fried three times."
"Good luck with parenting!" Fizz called after them.
"I don't need luck, clown!" Terri yelled back.
"I wasn't talking to you!" Fizz clarified, gesturing at Alastor with a wink of his glass eye.
Terri growled low in her throat as the marionette's cackling echoed in her mind. She clutched Alastor extra closely as they flew back up the rabbit hole and focused on his now excited, fearless whooping all the way home. Sure sounded like he'd be back more than once!
[X]
Prince Mammon remotely inspected the damaged marionette, mentally calculating whether it was cheaper to build a new one. (In the old days, before hiring the now-famous imp clown, he'd enjoyed heckling patrons himself, using the jester persona.) At least he'd gotten that gem of a jab in- small comforts. It burned his ass (no pun intended), tolerating such shenanigans from McGyver and her ilk, but she had invested in the park. (Sparing no opportunity to show off, she'd performed her diamond trick on a much grander scale. "You're not going to wipe down your vomit rocks?" Mammon had complained, earning the death glare to end all death glares. "What I meant to say was, 'Thank you, ma'am.'") Even though it had technically cost her nothing, it was best to keep Terese placated.
Wasn't quite safe to show ingratitude after accepting a gift from a Thing like that.
[X]
Later, Alastor mused that his observations raised more questions than they answered. The marionette knew Terri by name and deduced that she brought living children there, despite that this seemed either impossible or not allowed. When provoked, the puppet only picked fights when he could have reported her. So... Terese was not high-ranking enough to break rules brazenly, but intimidating enough to silence those who noticed; menacing enough to keep out and for anyone who saw her break in to stay mum; frightening enough to explain the latter, yet ridiculous enough to be jeered at; unknown to an everyday citizen, but recognizable to a few. How did it all add up?
They retired to the Other House, where they normally ate dinner together. Al didn't seem too annoyed about his sunburn- maybe because he hadn't yet seen how ridiculous he looked. He chattered excitedly, reclining on the couch with a cold towel on his forehead as dinner cooked. Terri was in her element, inhaling the praise she received for the fun outing, and then for dinner, which seemed better than usual compared to carnival food. Yes, yes, she was an excellent caretaker. Fun, cooked well, "And much prettier than Billy's mom," she boasted, fishing for a compliment under the pretense of a joke after Fizz's taunting.
Al wisely interrupted his reflex to say 'Huh?' with the correct answer: "Obviously, madam."
Terri ruffled his hair. Perfect. Favorite child! So why did she still feel...off?
Al rarely nodded off in the Other House, or fell asleep at a normal time at all, but the unexpected winter sunburn had kicked his ass. Once he collapsed into exhausted slumber on Terri's couch, leaving her no one to entertain, the beldam found herself aimlessly wandering her own home. Viewing its contents, she suddenly recognized precisely how dull and sad things had become, before Alastor.
In her bedroom, she sifted through piles of elaborate nightwear she'd crafted despite rarely going out, unless it was to perform in a tiny personal theater for an audience of insects. (Many clothes received more use as costumes for the puppet actresses.) Or, when she went to the Lust Ring. Blast that insolent marionette! He must have detected that her 'joke' wasn't 100% fictional. She could certainly attract partners, but cleaning up the gore afterward was a chore. If she didn't kill them, there'd be a person person-ing in her bed later- how awful! People were intolerable when not serving or praising her, and they usually stopped shortly after sex ended, so the heads came off. Unlike most of her puppets, the Lust Ring dolls were interactive, so- Ugh, why was she mentally justifying herself?!
She gravitated toward her workroom next. More half-finished clothes. Spreadsheets of breeders and notebooks full of scribbles calculating genetic probabilities. Spools upon spools of yarn and thread, countless pairs of buttons, sack cloth of all shades, prepared to create hundreds of unique, personalized dolls that would probably never be made. A bottom drawer with a false floor hid a handful of dolls she couldn't bring herself to take apart, yet also couldn't bear to look at- the preferred ones who'd escaped. Unlike the dolls in the trophy room, these represented losses, not victories, so they were painful, had to be locked away. On autopilot, she opened the drawer, and before she could scold herself out of lifting the false bottom, another forgotten item in the top half jarringly distracted her.
The wedding dress. It had been a trap like any other; she hadn't truly loved the mortal she'd proposed to. But she could have learned...right? Just as she was learning now? Maybe...but Terri was rarely motivated by such things. Like any positive regard, romantic love provided nutrients, but it tasted wrong to her, unpleasantly sweet. And it was too fickle, didn't last. She was wise to seek something purer with the children, she told herself. Was it really purer, though, if even they didn't stay?
Terri huffed softly. She shut the drawer, banishing the unworn white dress from her view. She would not lift that lid just to look one particular doll in the eyes and feel a dagger in her heart again. She wouldn't make advances on Echo and receive the usual tired, deadpan expression that said 'I'm not that kind of doll' or embarrass herself by showing her face in the Lust Ring immediately after the exchange with Fizz. She wouldn't go upstairs to the perpetually-empty bedroom meant for a child, or hover beside sleeping Alastor (as she often did with children) on the couch. And she would not do anything with the pile of religious iconography in her basement tonight, lest she work herself into a rage. (How was it fair for Him to have so many children when she couldn't even keep one?)
No. Like a sensible person, she would go to the theater and watch something funny to drown out the acknowledgment that she was an aging, barren woman with no family, no partner, and no friends, who played with dolls (in more ways than one); who used to be powerful and was left with nothing; who had an unprecedented chance right now, in her grasp, that she would probably ruin. Turn. It. Off.
Well into the night, Alastor awakened and noticed, out the window, the lights in the theater were on. Curious enough to check in, he found her sitting in the otherwise-empty theater alone, watching a puppet show. After a minute or two of observation, he recognized it as a heavily comedy-infused version of...'A Christmas Carol?' In February?
"Aunt Terri?" Alastor interrupted.
The puppets onstage fell slack-jawed to the ground as Terri whipped around, seeming as if snapped out of a hypnotic trance. "Hello, Button! What are you up to? I thought you were sound asleep."
"I was thinking about earlier. ...You know I really did have fun today, right?"
"I'm so glad, darling." Terri masked her mild unease with a wide, warm smile.
"Was that marionette bothering you?" A clear pattern was emerging for Alastor, although he lacked the language to describe it. Like many narcissists, Terri was using her grandiosity to compensate for deeply buried, crippling insecurity. Greg Sigfried and Fizz had effectively unearthed some by challenging her in front of Alastor, whose respect the beldam craved desperately.
Terri waved a hand dismissively. "He heckles everyone. A clown has to learn to heckle the audience back. I don't take it seriously."
"…Who was Jimmy?" Alastor tried more straightforwardly.
Terri huffed softly through her nose and complained, "Child. You are interrupting my happy thoughts."
Alastor nodded his head sideways at the stage. For all the added slapstick and dark humor, it was the same isolation-themed story.
Terri read his insinuation loud and clear. "Oh, it's comedy, silly," she insisted, employing her sweetsie 'everything is perfect' voice as a shield. Anyway, the story helped her cope via schadenfreude as well as vent negativity. A character whose life was as shitty as hers? That was always good for a laugh! She could watch people clap and cheer the curmudgeon's death all night! In fact, she'd been on her third re-play of the scene (supplemented by a jeering laugh track from nowhere) as Al walked in.
"It is funny," Al acknowledged, implying that it could also be other things. He normally wouldn't encourage talk of negativity, but he cared about Terri's feelings and wouldn't overlook them like he would someone else's, or his own. Unfortunately, Terri was one of few people more averse to expressing emotions than Alastor. Pretty self-defeating, since she was the more emotional of the two. Alastor would learn later that her bottling had dangerous consequences.
The witch sighed and patted the seat next to her, inviting him to sit down. "He was my special little friend, like you. But he decided we...weren't compatible."
It didn't escape Al that 'he' instead of 'we' made this final decision.
"So we... fought," she said, implying with her tone that this dramatically under-represented an aggressive confrontation. "And he...left me." (Read as: 'escaped.') It sounded like she had to choke the last words out. This had only happened a few decades ago, so, for Terese, the wound was fresh. Jimmy had been one of her very favorites amongst the human children. Finally, Terri sprung back with, "But the joke's on him, because now I can do this!" Her special Swiss army hand made an appearance, unscrewed itself, and did an energetic little dance on its fingertips on a theater seat armrest. "Fun little trick, isn't it?"
The joke was on her, of course. All she'd gleaned from the experience was the idea for the novelty hand. (She didn't need a prosthetic, of course; she easily regenerated. But she'd immediately seen uses for it and elected to keep it. It was intimidating, a handy tool, and it was a gas betting on a right hand that was detachable!) Meanwhile, Sir Jimmy the 'Ethically Superior' had an award-winning play inspired by their interactions (clearly she wasn't the only rip-off artist) and three loving (hack-hem, stolen) children of his own. But to Hell with that brat. This new one, the Star of her Show, was a great improvement over her Second Star. The other child, not Terri, was clearly the problem, if Alastor respected her and wanted to stay...so far. Her foot taptaptapped.
Alastor did not press further and decided to let her continue coping as needed. It was what he'd want her to let him do. "Lucky you found someone more compatible with you." He 'shook' her hand's 'hand' (ie, index finger) by intertwining his own finger around it. "Resume your happy thoughts, ma'am."
"I will," she assured him, gratefully. "Please join me." She put an arm on his shoulder, cleared the stage, and commenced with a more genuinely light-hearted comedy show.
During the performance, Terese decided to reward the darling boy's sweetness by showing him the Pride Ring after all, instead of weaseling out of it. Sure it wasn't the best idea ever, but what were the chances of being noticed in a place so wildly overpopulated? They'd be fine.
[X]
"I'm curious. Why don't you hunt there?" Alastor asked as she prepared the portal a few days later. "You wouldn't have to rely on any doors, would you?"
"I only get some of the nutrients I need." A lie with a kernel of truth.
Alastor's suspicion that something didn't want McGyver in Hell intensified, but he didn't ask any more questions before they plummeted down the tunnel. Feeling a bit too secure now, Al broke free of Terri's grip so he could cannon-ball and back-flip through the dark. Terese freestyle-stroked through the air to keep up with him, bellowing, "Tiny fool! Slow down!" She tumbled forward and snatched him out of the air long enough ahead of the exit to prevent a disaster. "You delightful idiot gremlin- behave," Terri instructed, tugging his ear reprimandingly, "or the leash comes back!" Alastor deflated and hissed, "Sorry, sorry," until she stopped. He may have been parentified some of the time, but they did alternate, and when Terri entered actual 'mom' mode, he fell into line quickly. He was bold, but he had common sense.
They were distracted from this authentic mother-son interaction, noticing the famously overpopulated city was...strikingly quiet. Alastor looked side to side. "Where is everyone?" If Terri's eyes hadn't been buttons, her pupils would've shrunk to dots in realization even before the warning siren blasted at them, causing them to jump. She clapped the hand that had been on Alastor's ear over his mouth and whispered, "We're going to re-enter very quietly," tugging him toward the portal that hadn't quite closed. How had she forgotten that Extermination Day occurred around this time?! For many years she'd come here regularly to feast on the one day no one would bat an eyelash. This child distracted her to the point that she forgot all sorts of-
Something tackled Terese from the side mid-thought, and she acted quickly at the sound of the child's yelp. With one hand, she sent a blast of air pressure that sent him tumbling down an alleyway, where he was wise enough to huddle in an alcove. With the other hand, she pushed the Exterminator up the rabbit hole. Sounds like an awful idea, but as it emerged on the Earthly side, she mimed yanking a string and it fell back in, plummeting back to Hell at an insane velocity and cracking the concrete upon landing, fated to bleed out on the ground. Gravity alone was a hell of a weapon.
Terri reappeared in front of Alastor down the alley, whispering, "We've come at a bad time." She wrapped her arms around him, face to the wall and back to the alley, shielding him. 'Stay very still,' she mouthed down at him. 'Don't make a sound.' Alastor obeyed but couldn't help but watch- through the gap in her arm- the carnage visible in the sliver of light at the end of the alley. A fleeing demon was attacked by a second Exterminator. As it finished ripping out its victim's throat, Al could see the horned, winged predator whip its head to the side, war mask smiling jaggedly through the bloody mist that sprayed around it.
Terri gritted her teeth as the creature approached. Then, shocking Alastor, she separated from him and re-manifested directly in front of the executioner. Al scrambled back, hid behind a dumpster, and peered around the corner. The creature cocked its head in confusion as Terese held one hand to her hip impatiently, as though awaiting a particular reaction. The Exterminator raised its spear. Alastor winced hard, but Terri anticlimactically grunted in annoyance and transformed into xxXxxxxXXXXXxxxx
Alastor marveled for a split second, then tumbled further behind the dumpster with an arm draped over his eyes. He'd heard the descriptions of 'angels' or 'gods' presenting as something too intense to look at. This was similar. He knew instinctively if he continued to look he could go blind. Unable to watch, he listened closely and heard only an unsettling yawning...and then ripping sound, and an abruptly-quieted shriek, followed by dead silence, not even the clatter of a spear against the ground.
Terese reappeared in humanoid form on the other side of the dumpster, peering around the corner playfully. "Coast is clear, Spiderling!" Far from exhausted, Terri felt energetic and refreshed. Those things were a delicacy. On previous Extermination Day adventures, she'd often eaten one, briefly basked in the nutritious gratitude of the human soul she'd 'rescued,' and then eaten it as well. Combo move!
Heart thudding, Alastor was abuzz with simultaneous excitement, relief, and terror. He wasn't as confounded as he would be one day, when he had the appropriate context, but he still understood that that thing was an extreme threat, and she'd neutralized it in seconds. "How did you-?"
"Shhh!" It wasn't important right now. They wouldn't have a clear path for long, so she steered the child back under the portal and they re-entered.
[X]
'I can't believe you almost got him killed again,' said the more responsible voice in Terri's head, as they rested quietly on the couch, recovering.
'They don't do it on the same day every year!' another childish voice whined in her defense.
'They reliably do it during the same week, though, you nitwit! And you brought him there twice!'
It didn't matter if Alastor tolerated her depraved ethics and mood swings. Constant reckless endangerment would piss anyone off. She was bound to lose his love, too. Then the best case scenario became...buttons? Terri didn't know which option she liked less- committing that atrocity after they'd bonded, or debasing herself by letting him escape, knowing he was still out there hating her. Behind her inscrutable face, Terri's thoughts whirred like a broken cassette tape. They were mercifully interrupted by Alastor asking something. "What's that, darling?"
"Do those things...destroy the wicked?" The child gazed at her with wide eyes that conveyed no outrage or disappointment. In fact, he looked enthralled.
"That's their function, yes. Heaven sends them because Hell is overpopulated," Terri explained, trying to understand how he wasn't ! Of course! He had no reason to know the Extermination was scheduled around the same time every year. In fact, she bet the child assumed it wasn't to allow for the element of surprise, instead of assuming it was to maximize the element of dread. Relieved, Terri allowed the misunderstanding to continue. Meanwhile, she noticed Alastor looked as though he was having a spiritual experience. "Child, what are you thinking right now?" Terri asked.
"...It was...amazing. That's exactly what I want to do," the child said, his cute little face beaming with ecstatic bloodlust.
"...I see some logistical issues, darling. But we can get you close!"
Even more enthused than usual by the prospect of punishing the wicked, Alastor asked, "Should we go hunting again tomorrow?"
"Iiiii think we should," Terri sing-songed, booping his nose. She saw the wheels in his head spinning and prepared herself for the famous Alastor rapid-fire question gauntlet.
"Didn't that take energy from you?" He knew this was usually a big concern for Aunt Terri, but she didn't seem tired.
"Not at all," she answered, confirming his perception.
"But how did you do that?" he demanded. His eyes were wider with wonder and awe than they'd been while watching her cough up diamonds.
"I told you, I can consume anything," Terri bragged. "But that type of thing is unusually compatible with me. So don't worry, I didn't struggle. In fact, it was a treat."
"They can destroy souls? Completely?"
"Yes. They're pure negators. Well...they're not. It's the weapons they use. Their technology."
Alastor squinted. "And you ate it armaments and all, didn't you?"
"That's correct."
Alastor tried to do the math. "Were you one of them?" Would that be cool or terrifying? No, Alastor realized, wrong conjunction. Cool and terrifying!
"No, I was not."
"Do you function like them?" Alastor remembered when it had first occurred to him that nothing Terri ate came back, that she could extinguish souls. That joke she'd made at his dead father's expense: 'Don't worry, his soul's already gone, he'll still suffer in Hell!'
"We are similar." Al finally accepted he wouldn't receive a clear answer, but it sounded like Terri was more unusual than he'd thought. "Does that frighten you?" Terri asked in response to Alastor's silence.
It was unsettling, but he smiled, assuring her, "Not if you're on my side!" before wrapping her in a rare hug, catching Terri by (pleasant) surprise.
She patted his back. "What did I do to earn this, love?"
"You would have benefitted from eating more of those, but you spent energy on keeping me away from them anyway."
"Of course I did, silly, why wouldn't I? I said I'd protect you."
"I think maybe you like me, just a little," he teased.
"So presumptuous. I also have to be very careful not to break your rules, you sleazy little dealmaker," she teased back, pinching his cheek playfully.
Alastor couldn't contain one last burning question. "Why...don't you do more with your magic?"
He'd wondered before, but until now hadn't encountered an example too weird to explain away. Questions like 'Why does she scry if she can absorb any data she wants?' weren't too difficult to parse. If you could access the information you sought by using a shortcut easy enough for a talented mortal witch to practice, instead of using an ability that fatigued you, why wouldn't you? But this was in a different ballpark. If she could easily overpower a formidable heavenly warrior (or, as he'd wonder in the future, if only a percentage of her power could level city blocks), why did she use her abilities so sparingly? Something limited her, but how did the mysterious limitation work, and why didn't it prevent her from doing that?
Terri hummed and said cryptically, "It's complicated."
Al tolerated the non-answer, but offered the look of admiration Terri loved and said the wonderful words: "You're incredibly strong. I'm proud to have you as my m- aunt."
Terri wouldn't see how furiously Alastor blushed at the near slip; she yanked him into a hug too quickly. It was the most flattering compliment he could give her. "You make me so proud, too, Button!" Every star in the sky! Perfect child! Releasing him, she hack hemmed. "Pardon me, dear, I know you dislike being squeezed like that." She touched his cheek and confessed, "Wish I hadn't caught you at the tail end of the cuddle-ability period." Relative to total lifespan, she'd experienced affectionate touch even less than he had. She wished for more opportunities to be held like a rag doll.
"I hadn't noticed," Alastor teased, thinking of how he'd occasionally wake in the morning, creak his eyes open, and find her hovering over him with the exact expression a small child wears while stifling the urge to scoop up a peacefully sleeping dog or cat. "If you asked for a hug nicely, I would give you one."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Calling back to her remark about skydiving, Alastor asked about her fleeting display of vulnerability, "Was that scary?" She was silent. "You did well."
Terri bit her lip and then, with mock sternness, murmured, "Wise-acre."
The heart-melting interaction left the witch elated, but Terese was...Terese. Her brain wouldn't cooperate for long. Soon, nagging distrust intruded, devouring her joy. He'd said and done every conceivable right thing, yet something was missing. That word. 'You're incredibly strong, mom. I'm proud to have you as my mother.' That would be perfect. Her heart ached for it. Her stomach ached for it. How, after receiving so much affection, did this simple thought make her hungrier than before?
She should have known to be patient. Growing closer organically took time. But Alastor's reasonable hesitation, which may have extended the Hallway by inches, was nothing compared to Terri's severe fear of abandonment, which grew the Hallway by yards. As ominous as the Thing's soft growling were the thoughts replaying in her head as she lied awake that night: He had almost said it. Why had he hesitated? How long before he left?
[X]
After a pleasant start, the next few months were marred by serious trials. Even a mental admission by Terri herself- a woman famously impossible to please- that the child was an excellent match couldn't override her toxic insecurity over not being addressed as 'mother.' It burst out of her in waves, fits of hunger culminating in aggressive rages.
The first few times were disappointing but tolerable to a child who'd experienced similar outbursts by a birth parent. It helped that he'd been warned this could happen and advised not to try snapping her out of it with humor, to 'yes, ma'am' and 'no, ma'am' as needed, and especially keep smiling and pretend not to be afraid. But Alastor thought she was no scarier than Bert had been during regular, non-murderous drunk outbursts. So she yelled, threw things- whatever. This was what she'd been worried about?
She'd shriek for an hour about his perceived ingratitude and emotional coldness and make what sounded like empty threats. Other times she'd complain about some seemingly inconsequential thing he'd done days ago, nearly making him laugh (he later realized this could have been fatal had he not stifled it). Still other times, an unknown factor would set her off, and she'd monologue in outrage about having 'no worshippers.' (This tangentially related to the 'mother' label, it appeared.) Her behavior was no worse than that of 'other gods,' she argued, yet people judged her as deplorable while selectively remembering only the good things their deity did.
Once she worked herself into a frenzy, Terri would leave the house to hunt- partly to feed her need for fear or respect, and partly to redirect aggression that might otherwise befall Alastor. She'd come back after having had her fill, clean herself off, and collapse on the couch. This, too, wasn't much different from having his father around. Alastor would climb onto the opposite end of the couch, regarding the look of weary, agitated shame on her face, and slowly inch closer until she no longer tensed up. Then she'd let him not so much hug her as lean up against her, as if she were a couch cushion, before melting into a real hug, seeming relieved.
Alastor had grown wise to the fact that she was the monster from her story, or else yoked to it somehow. Still, he conceptualized the woman, Terri McGyver, and the vicious Hungry Thing as distinct entities, as though she were at times possessed. When she returned, looking forlorn, he wanted to comfort her; comforting her made him feel strong. Eventually, she'd fall asleep beside him, soothed into slumber by his body heat and heartbeat. He'd watch the sleeping, deceptively humanoid-looking creature with awe. Despite her adorable doll-like appearance, and although she considered herself 'weak,' this was a powerful supernatural entity letting down its guard. This was like an entire den of lions rolling over, showing him their bellies, and purring. It felt flattering and sweet, so he'd shrug off her silly outburst.
One such occasion, however, was traumatizing. It escalated so quickly his head spun. Alastor couldn't remember what started it and, frankly, it didn't matter- this would have clawed its way out of Terri eventually, no matter what he did. It seemed she'd kill him, as she dragged him toward the room that contained the others' remains. Before he realized shock had wiped the smile clean off his face, the damage was done. "I can't tell you how many times I tell them to smile and they scream! They always scream!" she roared. Al was temporarily relieved that she'd stopped directly in front of the mirrored door, rather than tossing him behind it, but then she shook him roughly, face to face with his reflection. "I give you everything you could possibly want, and you can't even smile about it?! Fix your face right now, or I'll fix it for you!"
For Alastor, at that moment and years later in memory, no additional audio played over this scene, just white noise, increasing in volume until it overwhelmed the universe. Even the visuals pixelated and fell like snowflakes until the only remaining sensation was the searing pain of his shoulders being gripped in impossibly strong, sharp claws, shaking him violently like a rag doll. Finally a crack and a hard, crushing blow of cold glass against his face. Then nothing. Black. Until he found himself in a kitchen cabinet under the Other Kitchen's sink an indeterminable amount of time later. He hugged his knees and stared at the wood back of the woefully unlockable cabinet door, studying the visible crack of light for signs of movement. It was tough to do with his glasses shattered, but he was just grateful no glass had made it into his eyes.
Alastor came to terms with the fact that he'd managed to 'upgrade' from an angry, violent drunk to an angrier, more violent eldritch horror. (Canned harsh, jeering laughter.) He'd probably die, and his last thought would be that he was a complete imbecile. Sure, he was angry and afraid, but primarily, Alastor felt hot, stinging embarrassment. He'd been foolish to believe all those hours left alone with nothing but fairy tales, wishing to recover memories of his mother, hadn't impaired his judgement. He'd begun entertaining puerile notions of 'happy endings' and 'true love.' Sadly, these things were not like fairies, which existed as long as you believed in them. Dragons, though- apparently that shit was legit.
Al willed himself to find humor in his own stupidity; he couldn't wallow in self pity because he had an unexplained hunch that it was critically important for him to smile when she returned. No other mode of defense was available. Actually…there was some bleach under here. Could he throw it in her face? Sudden footsteps approached. Time to pick a plan- bleach or smile. Alastor twisted the top off the bottle, but stopped, set it down, gritted his teeth and suppressed his rage. It disgusted him to regress back to huddling like a mouse, as he'd done for Bert, but smiling was the safer bet.
The door opened.
Usually, after one of these killing/murder-f***ing sprees, Terese cleaned up when she returned home, too proud to be seen by the boy in such a state. This time, she wore the uncensored gore of her recent kills because she'd stopped for nothing until she found him. She could barely remember what happened (The Hunger was so overwhelming she was losing time now?!) but she knew it was devastating and she had to make sure he was still alive, or still there at all.
Assuming he'd fled to his side of the house, Terri first opened the door to the Hallway and received a jarring shock as a veritable fun-house maze appeared. She let out a tiny shriek, stepped back, then rocked forward again and- No! She wasn't quite sure which of them it was directed at, but this was trickery by the newly-uncooperative Thing! She didn't have to use the Hallway to cross sides herself; she'd go in only if she found him nowhere else.
Finding him in the cabinet, alive, was relieving at first. Then the visual sunk in: the shattered glasses, bloody nose, a few tiny gashes on his face, and one baby canine tooth missing from his desperate smile. Terri didn't overlook that the bleach had its seal broken. Ah. Taking precautions. Good boy. He trembled and seemed about to say something once or twice before deciding against it. She couldn't blame him; she didn't know what to say either. Terri backed away so he'd feel more secure. "It's safe now. I promise." She slowly reached out her hand as she would to let a suspicious animal sniff it. "I'll shake on it."
Al knew he had to respond or he'd offend her again, but he was frozen, heart pounding. He hated that he was cowering like this, but his body wouldn't cooperate.
Terri kept her hand stretched out and knelt down so she wouldn't have to stay bent over. (Al noted fleetingly that it was one of the only times he'd seen her kneel on the ground. She always had the puppet servants clean for her, for instance.) In her softest, gentlest voice, she whispered, "Come out, darling. I'll fix your glasses." No response. "Hand them to me?" He obeyed. Unlike biomatter, this was something she could easily magic together again. Maybe he'd be less skittish if he could see properly.
"Th-thank you, ma'am," the boy stammered, still smiling rigidly, as she handed them back mended.
A short, panicked giggle ripped its way out of Terri's throat. "No trouble, Button. I want to make it all better. That was…" A long, long pause. "Come on, let's make cocoa. We'll read the horror pulps you like." Maybe that wasn't such a good idea right now, and probably neither was joking, "I'm dressed for it!" She made a dusting motion, then looked down and realized how dreadful the mess was. Comically uncomical, in its desperation, she tongued her hand and scrubbed furiously at a bloodstain murmuring, "Out…damned…spot…" Not the best time to reference the villainess who was willing to kill babies. Why was she making everything worse?!
Now that he could see properly, Alastor's heartbeat slowed. Watching her awkward attempts to diffuse the situation reduced his fear because, despite looking terrifying drenched in blood, she also looked frustrated, tired, ashamed. It was her again, he concluded. Al reached out his hand. "Oh!" Terri murmured and shook it. Defying her wildest expectations, the child launched himself from the cabinet and clung to her like a life preserver.
The dichotomy between Terri and the Hungry Thing seemed more extreme than ever. Alastor was so relieved to have her back that leaping into the arms of the thing that tried to kill him made all the sense in the world. The Thing would hunt him, but Terri would always return in time to protect him. This idea erased the looming despair Al had felt in the cabinet as he came precariously close to deciding his only meaningful relationship was a lost cause. Those thoughts couldn't be tolerated; if they were true, it would kill him. His birth parents had shown him what despair could do. He'd take any way out. Physical head trauma hardly helped, but this was the moment when Alastor's psyche itself finally cr-ACKED.
"I thought that Thing took you from me," Al murmured in Terri's ear.
It was the first time he'd implied, out loud, that he understood Terese and her natural predator were linked enough for it to steer her behavior, but not perfectly overlapping in their goals. He wasn't wrong, per se, but the degree of separation Alastor ascribed to them was too forgiving, as he'd apparently absolved Terese of any blame.
"Never, my love," Terri whispered, steering into his warped coping mechanism with abandon. "You know your auntie always escapes." She wanted to continue leaning into his hug, but somehow it made her feel guiltier. "Sweetheart, you'll get all...gunk-covered," was the excuse she came up with to gently push him away. She tried to retrace her steps before she blacked out and concluded, softly, "I hurt you."
Al shook his head and said, "No, not really."
She wasn't convinced, especially because shaking his head seemed to throw him off balance. Terri inspected him. His face was a wreck, but aside from that she found no bruises until she touched one of his shoulders and he winced. A peek under his collar revealed bruises on each side, forming claw-like shapes, speckled with nicks and cuts. Needles. "I shook you," she said. Hard, and planted his face into the mirror, hard enough to crack the mirror. Her voice was steady, but she felt numb. "You should lie down."
"I'm okay," Al tried to insist again, breath still hitching a bit.
"No you're not," Terri said. "Do you remember what happened after?" He slowly shook his head 'no.' "Neither do I," she reported, truthful for once. (Echo, on the other hand, couldn't forget wrestling its master away from the child before Terese could perform the specific, smile-cementing mutilation she intended with her needle and thread. It had never done anything so brave, but Echo had grown invested in Terri and Alastor's relationship and wanted to protect it.)
Terri took his chin, looked in his eyes, tried accessing the memory and- NO, too awful. She touched her forehead to his. She had to try to correct this. Terri guided him to the couch and sat him down, ordering, "You are going to rest." Fewer lacerations than you'd expect and none severe, she observed, as she cleaned his face and produced some ice in towels for his shoulders. It must not have been pressed against the glass for very long...so he'd freed himself quickly. Good boy. Pride in Alastor was the only positive emotion Terri could summon right now. Seemed the only serious injury was the hit to the head, but that was potentially...a big problem...
'You did this to your baby,' a voice in her head hissed as she worked.
'It's just food,' another voice argued.
'He's not like the others. He's supposed to be yours,' the first voice insisted. 'You said you'd protect him.' She had said that, and she expected another soft lime green light to overtake the child soon, with the reward he deserved for suffering over her broken promise. Terri hoped it would help him heal him faster. Or would it be less intuitive if the power couldn't coordinate ideally with a central nervous system that was in a fog? The strong little one could shake it off, she told herself desperately, with only minor side effects, as long as...it didn't happen again. How could she prevent this from happening again?
There was a way she could help. Terri knew what she had to do.
Al kept his eyes mostly averted, shooting furtive glances as she triaged. She assumed he was still afraid, so was surprised when he grasped her hand after she said, "I'm going to get something. I'll be back soon." Too ashamed to accept affection, she wriggled out of it.
She'd declined his hug and wouldn't let him hold her hand. Petrified of offending her again, Al asked, "What's wrong?" through the lump in his throat.
"I'm frightened," she admitted.
Alastor grabbed her hand again. "Don't be upset. I'll be fine," he insisted, smile forming instinctively. This event had powerfully reinforced Alastor's terror of negative emotions, his own or others'.
He was croaking out only a few simple words at a time, sounding much more like a normal, frightened child than usual. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and thrust it into his hands, encouraging him to hug that instead. "Rest. But don't go to sleep right now," she advised. Terese returned about 10 minutes later holding something behind her back. "I have a very special gift for you," she said softly, presenting him with the same Terri doll she'd confiscated months earlier.
This wasn't a foolish impulse; Terri knew exactly what she was doing. When she'd confiscated it, any power the crude voodoo doll held was negligible; she'd taken it out of pride alone. By returning it, willingly, she bestowed upon it new meaning and power. To magnify it further, she'd sewn her triple-amber-encased, spell-protected eyes into the left and right arms of the doll (literally, something up her sleeves). Whether he understood or not, she feared hurting him so much that she was granting him dominion over her. She'd protected the eyes so heavily because she hoped, if he had to, he'd destroy the poppet savagely. She was in this for the long game, and for that to work, she had to ensure he felt safe and cared for. Love required risks.
"I don't understand," Alastor said. "I thought you said it was harmless."
"It was," Terri explained. "But I fixed it. If anything like this happens again, I want you to take the doll, cover its eyes, and do your best to hide. But if it comes down to it," she said, looking at him very seriously, "you light this thing up like a Christmas tree. This can't happen again. Promise me." Alastor stared in bafflement, and she nervously snorted. "Oh dear. That made me sound like a crazy person." (Canned uneasy laughter.) "Not that you had any control over- I just mean you have to promise to use this if it happens again. Not that it- It won't." Al's expression switched to concern. "It couldn't kill me," she reassured, "but it would hurt like hell. I'd be impaired enough for you to run as far away as possible," she emphasized. "Understand?"
Alastor nodded but remarked, "I don't think I could kill you."
"I don't think so either, but I strongly encourage you to try if it gets that dire."
"No… I mean I don't think I could convince myself to kill you."
Deliberately contrary, Terri dismissively hand-waved. "Phht. Of course you could, I've seen you in action. Come now, what did you make the doll for?" He awkwardly glanced aside. "Aha! See! Don't admit to making empty threats." Her smile waned and she resumed seriously, encouragingly patting his cheek, "You could do it if you had to. Just remember, behind this thing-" She pointed at her face. "-that you humans need to look at to feel like you're talking to a person...there's nothing but blank space. Like a deep, dark well. Just think of that, and you'll be able to do it. Promise." She weaved her little finger around his and enclosed it.
Alastor's eyes crinkled as he struggled to imagine what she described. He couldn't. She was a person. His favorite person. Even now.
"Truly, I'm nothing, darling. Nothing at all," Terri assured him with a profoundly sad smile.
Al looked her up and down and privately came to a decision. "You're not nothing," he insisted. "You're my mother."
Terri was stunned speechless. In the incalculable time she had existed, these words had never been said to her. She thought, 'I love you so much,' while another insidious voice in her head interrupted the sentiment with, 'That's it. Check mate. You win!' But she was too taken aback by the absurdity of the situation to respond to either thought. Why now of all times was he saying this? He normally disliked being touched- why choose now to be touchy-feely? There were two possibilities, both bad: (1) He believed- consciously or otherwise- this was the only way to keep himself safe, and/or (2) she had f***ed his head up good. 'Whatever works,' said the coarser voice in her head, celebrating that she'd conveniently injured him in a way that rendered him disoriented and emotional. She felt a rare emotion: shame.
"My Spiderling..." Terese wrapped him in the hug she'd denied him earlier, wishing there was something she could say in response to such a loving gesture made after she'd done something so cruel, but no such social script existed. Both of them felt on edge, sick. An exchange that should have been warm and tender had been rendered unnervingly surreal by the surrounding context. It was like being the subjects of their own Salvador Dahli painting; everything was beautiful, but uncanny and wrong.
"We should go to your side of the house, Button," Terri suggested, in case this environment hindered the healing process. "You may feel better faster out there."
"I'm fine," Al objected as she lifted him. "I'm not five." But Terri wouldn't bring him into the maze unless he was joined to her at the hip. Astonishingly, the door opened to reveal Alastor had accomplished something even she could not- compress the Hallway. Not to its previous length, but shorter. Despite her relief, this signaled that he was not fine. Something was very, very wrong with the boy.
"You're not too dizzy?" she asked as she set him down, pretending this was why she'd lifted him.
"I'll be alright, Mother."
They spent an hour and a half pretending it was a normal evening- reading, playing cards, drinking cocoa. When Terri decided it was safe for him to sleep, she encouraged him to do so. Al was concerned to see wouldn't stay on his side of the house with him, and Terri could tell. She held his hands and assured, "You haven't done anything wrong, dear. In fact, you've done very well. You've made me proud. I'm only worried about the..." She didn't need to finish. Alastor understood she wanted to separate him from the Thing, in case it still felt combative. "You sleep here," she insisted, pressing the doll into his hands, "and I'll watch over you."
"You'll take mine, right?" he offered, nodding across the room at the Alastor poppet.
"Sounds like a fair trade. You want to watch over me, too, little one?" Why did he seem afraid for her and not of her?
"Mother," he begged, "don't let that Thing kill you. Please? Keep fighting it." Alastor was not completely mired in delusion, but even when he fleetingly acknowledged his circumstances, he resolved to stay, at all costs, to protect Terri. He'd already lost two parents to this horrible despair monster. He would not lose a third.
"I would never let it kill you-"
"Or you," he interjected insistently. "We'll protect ourselves, and we'll protect each other."
"Yes. Of course." She considered what it might mean to 'protect' him from this horrible event and came up with: "Would you like to forget?" He looked confused. "I know how it frightens you to be sad. Once your head is all better, would you like to forget?"
Al realized she was offering to alter his memory, an ability he hadn't known she had. Anxiety prickled down his spine. "No, please don't do that. Have you done that before?"
Terri shook her head. "No, Button. I swear." She crossed her heart.
Looking uneasy, Alastor reached out his hand. "Promise you'll never do it."
"Do you still think I want to trick you? I wouldn't give you that doll if I didn't want to play fair, love." But she couldn't afford to look untrustworthy now. Terri shook Alastor's hand without further resistance. Placated, the child crawled into bed. She accepted the doll depicting him, tucked him in, turned around...then turned around again and laid beside him. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep," she acquiesced, wrapping her arms around him.
"...Do you love me?" the child whispered. He'd have never been vulnerable enough to ask out loud if he weren't feeling so woozy.
Through prickling, numb, mortification, Terri answered, "Of course. Of course I love you, I'm your mother. Button, I didn't mean it. It will never happen again." She rubbed his shoulder and kissed his hair until he nodded off.
Terri watched long after his muscle twitches ended and his breathing slowed and evened out. It was a precious sight, but she couldn't bask in it, nervously scrutinizing his sleeping form for signs of some concussion-related ailment. Finally, she rose, placed the Terri doll in his arms, and left for her side of the house, feeling certain he'd be safer.
Perhaps Alastor would be. While Terri didn't need to use the hallway, she wanted to examine it for signs of more misbehavior. (She couldn't assume it would stay compressed. The boy was emotional after that hit to the head- what if he tried seeking her out in the middle of the night?) All seemed benign at first- no stretching, no warping, no additional doors- but as Terri reached the halfway point of the accordioned hallway, she heard a creak and groan behind her. Dazed and preoccupied, she foolishly turned to look. The hallway had elongated behind her, and she wanted to kick herself, knowing milliseconds before it happened that the other side would stretch before she could bolt. (She'd fallen for the same trick as the drunk? Humiliating!)
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, then half-laughed, "You're threatening me?"
Was it responding to her own feelings of isolation and entrapment in a vicious cycle, or some deeply-buried desire to punish herself? Rebelling against her as she tried to defy its animalistic instinct to devour? Could it even be that the child's hypothesis from earlier had merit? (The Thing's actions were growing unsettlingly consistent with a goal of isolating and reincorporating Terri to obtain full autonomy...) Regardless of which explanation was correct, clearly she was playing a hell of a game against herself. 'I certainly am interesting,' Terri thought, narcissism forming a wall against her skyrocketing anxiety.
"You're not going to have him," she said firmly, "but auto-cannibalism isn't the answer, bright eyes. Quit this nonsense." Terese's tone was even, but she gripped the Alastor doll tightly as she tried teleporting from the hallway...and failed. She'd not encountered a situation like this in a long time and hadn't expected to.
Before she could panic, she 'saw' in her mind's eye that Alastor had woken and pulled the Terri doll close. He knew she was watching; he wanted her to see he still wanted to hug her. He may also have hoped she could feel it, and she could. She could feel him holding the doll so her face was pressed into his shoulder as he stroked her hair and whispered, "Don't be sad, mom," over and over like a protection spell. Terese felt the brightest, warmest flash of joy through her fear. Her son...
And then the hallway compressed again. Crunched like an aluminum can.
Terri dove for her door and slammed it shut, leaning against it as she gratefully held the Alastor doll close and ruffled his hair, kissed his head, patted his back. There. She 'saw' that he felt that, smiled, and descended again into twitchy half sleep, innocently unaware of how helpful he'd been. Terri suspected the Alastor doll's presence in the Hallway had allowed him an indirect effect on it. The child's gut instincts were spot-on yet again! So, the hallway's sensitivity to its prey's emotions had backfired! It was helpful for trapping the lonely, isolated, and directionless. But it was futile when faced with a child who, through brute force of will, created short, straight lines between any discordant points for the sake of happiness, and who brought Terri herself her first feelings of true joy and connection in a short eternity.
Terese's gratitude and pride only accentuated her guilt for breaking her promise. Ready to capitalize on this, the cat waited on her windowsill with its normally smug facial expression exchanged for a disgusted one. "I stand corrected. You really did him in. I would not have bet on that."
"Get out," Terri spat.
"You sound surprisingly human this evening. Almost like you have feelings." Terri didn't have the energy for witty retorts today. She threw a teacup at the animal. Pluto yowled and dove from the sill into the bushes below. "You could give him up," he continued, voice already casting from a different undetected location. "It's the only way to keep him safe. But you won't. You need him. You've finally found the only person deranged enough to love you."
"He takes care of you! Don't talk about him like that!" Terri snapped. "Aren't you supposed to be the good guy?" She couldn't hear any soft pitter pattering footsteps or the swishing of a tail. Pluto had left, clearly satisfied with his guilt-tripping for the night.
Terri melted into her armchair. She'd seized her prize. Alastor's ability to brainwash himself in service of remaining positive was exactly what had flagged him as good prey months ago, and better still, it had protective qualities against the mutinous Thing. If this were any other child, she'd have celebrated that his emotional instability lost him the game. But this wasn't any other child, and neither was it the typical game she played, in which she was the only one aware she was playing. Both had gone into it aware and fully prepared to 'Other Mother/Other Son' each other into a bear trap, only to fall into the trap together. Now neither could escape without losing a limb. A rare, genuine maternal instinct flickered inside Terri's brain as she worried that something was terribly wrong with her baby.
[X]
Terese hadn't lied when she swore she'd never altered his memory. She hadn't evaporated Alastor's memory of his birth mother- that really was a trauma reaction. She was…pretty sure she hadn't helped it along… Mere months after the incident, Alastor had constructed a memory of his father putting his head through a mirror instead of her, but she was sure that wasn't her doing. He'd altered the memory himself! Alastor's capacity for crushing unhappiness in cognitively creative ways was incredible. Her only role in the deception was concealing the truth. Why wouldn't she? Since he'd accepted her as his mother, she rarely felt random pangs of hunger. The same child who'd once retracted from, merely tolerated, and rarely initiated touch now hung off her like a koala. Soon, he signed those adoption papers, happily. Terri would take no risks with this.
That said, there were things he didn't remember because they'd technically never happened to him. Times in the beginning when she'd exploded in rage at his perceived rejection. Times, before she understood him well, when a well-meaning jab was mistaken for genuine disrespect. Other times when he was just too much, kept talking and talking and TALKING and TALKING.
Reversing even seconds to minutes was a herculean task. The fact that she could do it at all painted a picture of the god-like power Terese once commanded. But it was both draining and mechanically risky (creating a tiny bubble of entropy reversal had unpredictable entropy-enhancing effects on the surrounding area, and who knew how it would all add up?), so she rarely performed the feat and was limited to one re-do at a time. Terese had trained herself to act reflexively if she had to undo something, knowing she may have mere moments, and to focus from the first milliseconds of the replay. She'd hear the crack of bone or splatter of blood and kick right into gear. She always kept herself in check the second time. If she needed a third time, that would make her a scumbag, but did needing one do-over make her the worst parent ever? Alastor was the first one she'd brought back repeatedly, because she knew she couldn't live without him. He would understand, Terri thought, if he found out, because it would be so clear that he was her special one. Right? Well, it was moot, because he wouldn't find out, and what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. In fact, he benefited from these stress-venting exercises more than she did because he'd usually get an unexplained present out of it.
She benefited from it at the time- that moment when she savored the well-deserved terror and respect for her power, frozen forever on the victim's face, knowing that she, the apex predator, had won. But when she revisited the incidents later, she laser-focused on how remarkably long it took for the expression to cross his face or, too late, for him to physically react. Every replicated data point suggested the unfathomable- he didn't believe she would kill him, up to within seconds of his demise. This normally mistrusting, reserved child loved her so much he refused to believe her capable. A terrible, acidic flood of horror bubbled up, spilling over the sides of that deep pit inside her, as she realized he needed the doll back. But she'd hesitated, settling for practicing little 'training' exercises with him to improve his reflexes, until finally the time came when she failed to snap out of her rage quickly enough to rewind, completely caught in a riptide. It made her feel deathly cold to consider how costly this mistake could have been.
It bothered Terri that no one would ever know, every time a child disappeared behind that mirrored door, the first image she saw was of herself, alone again. She saw it while reassembling the glass, on the evening of the incident. Terrifying, because the cat was right- she couldn't allow herself to kill him, but she could also never, ever give him up.
She had learned to love him. Why wasn't the spell broken?! Why wasn't she finally fixed inside? Wasn't that how it worked? Wasn't it supposed to be that easy? Mere seconds after reassembling it, the glass was in pieces again. She smashed it herself the second time, overtaken by rage because she didn't want to be in this story or play this character anymore. Why didn't it ever change?! Distressed, numb, she didn't hear herself yelling out loud.
Pluto watched covertly, more interested in the internal workings of Terri McGyver than he'd ever been. Echo similarly marveled, as it guided its master to bed, encouraging her to rest, and swept up the glass itself for Terri to reassemble when she was calm. Was this the barest hint of...self-awareness...and change?
[X]
Note: Now you know how he was able to use the doll to trap her- sorry if that seemed internally inconsistent for a while. And we've reached the advent of the less inhibited, more theatrical lunatic Alastor we know and love! Terri's rearing would've done it eventually, but the head injury speeds up the process.
Cameos/refs: (1) TeRi Hatcher = Other Mother voice actress, MAcGyver = character who builds anything with scraps. (2) Terri's so immature, Peter Pan couldn't tolerate her. (Can't help inserting refs as long as they double as world-building or characterization devices.) Her myths come from real escapees, so technically it would've been JM Barry. RE the 'stolen' comment- allegedly, Barry altered his late friend's will so he'd be named guardian of her children.