I didn't exactly plan to write a second Vivace fic, but the process of writing that left me with a lot of ideas about character dynamics and stuff that I didn't end up using and I guess I just needed somewhere to put some of those. I mean, this fic didn't use up all of those ideas, but I am going to try and not go completely crazy with that. Anyway, even though I'm linking the two stories as a series on AO3, this one isn't so much the follow-up to Foolish Harpists as it is a possible follow-up. I suppose you could say it's a 'bad end'. Though in all fairness I feel like all possible endings have a degree of bad to them. In any case, though this is a 'bad end', I'm not being too specific about the chain of events that lead to it happening. In some ways this story is more about the impact of the events than the events themselves, if that makes any sense.

In any case I hope you enjoy it!

Ah, it's you.

No, I'm not surprised. I had a feeling you'd show up eventually. You never could leave well enough alone, but it comes with the territory, right, Detective?

If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not. Vesen had it exactly right, calling you 'Xayr' makes you sound like one of us. There is little I have control over now, but that much I can decide. Presumptuous of you, isn't it, to try and come across as a friend? Mind you, I am curious. What brings you here? I don't really get visitors. Only the one, apart from you.

Alistair Cox. Yes, that's right, one and the same. He's really cashing in on all this, you know. I suppose you are, too, aren't you? Solving a murder on the high seas and capturing international fugitives to boot. Doesn't it make you feel important? Well, apart from the matter of the necklace, I suppose. Still, that's such a small thing, really. But if you're looking for an answer to that then I've already told you. It's in the sea, and unless you're really going to get your superiors to waste time and budget on diving out into the middle of the ocean for a necklace that nobody's left to inherit then what's the point? What, exactly, is the point? As I said, you must be cashing in on this anyway, right? Those clothes of yours look particularly new. If I had to guess, I would say that you treated yourself after you got a pay rise, or a promotion, or whatever it is INTERPAL does to reward star workers like you.

So, what are you here for? To gloat?

What do you mean, to understand?

Well, that's…you sound sincere. Is this a trick, Detective? Are you looking for something else to charge me with? No, really? Well. Well then. Alright. Here's the thing. I have told Alistair this too: not everything is for you. Just because I am captured and caught, just because I am defeated, that does not mean everything is yours for the taking. Some of it will always be mine, despite the fact I'm confined to these four walls and the bars in the window. I won't let you take it away from me.

I don't think you realise, do you, just what you've taken?

I see, that's something you want to understand. Sometimes, I want to make you understand that too. So perhaps this could be…mutually beneficial, shall we say?

Oh, looks like our time is up. I suppose I'll be seeing you later, then?

…

No, don't call me that. That's what the papers say, yes. Some of them are kind enough to say 'birth name' instead, which is a little better, but not by much. It is the name I wasn't, that I never was. Well, I suppose you could use Ramyeun, but….

Yes, I suppose that will do. Wild. Like Wynter and Wild. That's what Alistair is thinking about naming his new article, about us. I'm not sure if it's because he's using what happened on Cruise X as a starting point or if he thinks it has a 'Bonnie and Clyde' ring to it. Personally, I don't see the parallels, but apparently the rest of the world does. But they're the ones that will be buying and reading the article so. You know. Whatever. But perhaps I could send him to you, once you are done with me. I'm sure he'd sell more copies with a few quotes from the hero of the moment. No, I don't care particularly about his fame, or mine. I suppose it's more that it amuses me, really. Besides, if you pass all this along then it saves me from having to say the same thing twice.

Then again, who else would I speak of these things to? I cannot talk to myself, see the words hanging in the air around me with nowhere to go. Somehow, that seems lonelier than silence.

Anyway, using Wynter and Wild is fitting, whatever reason Alistair is using it. Why? Well, because that's where it begins really. Before there was Vivace it was just the two of us. Vesen and I, we set out on the path that led us here together. It has always been that way, and I thought it always would be. I like to think that someday, somehow, that normal rhythm will resume.

Hmmm? Don't be so irritating, just spit it out. Didn't you and your colleagues ask me this, hundreds and hundreds of times? Were we lovers? Did we 'engage in a sexual relationship'? And on and on, and on. The way your faces all twisted while asking the question, as if you were repulsed by wanting to ask but also wishing you could have watched the action yourselves…alright, I'm being unfair. You weren't quite that bad. Still, I know you wondered.

And I said no more than I had to in those interrogations but now…

Since you're after genuine answers now, I'll put it this way: There was a reason we could pose as newlyweds or engaged on our earliest heists and have it be convincing. But at the same time, once upon a time, we were children together. And when we were those children, and I woke up scared, I used to slip out of my room and sneak down the corridor to his room. I wouldn't go in straight away. I'd stand in the doorway just a moment, to be sure that he was still breathing and only then, only then would I go in and I'd climb into the bed next to him. There wasn't really any space, but just about enough for me to curl up on my side and reach out to put my hand on his chest, over where his heart would be before falling asleep. I'd fall asleep with the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingers and then, when I woke up, his hand would be over mine, every time. No more touching than that, no less. Even if we did make a very, very good married couple too, in truth being side by side with hands over heartbeat was more than enough.

I don't imagine the world will be particularly interested in that, though. Not salacious enough, is it? Not exactly the fuel for twisted, sexy fantasies. But this is what I want you to picture instead of whatever you imagined before and that everyone else will imagine afterwards. Picture us as the children we were, once and always, beneath the polished adult surface and all its want and need and greed. Picture us as children, nothing more and nothing less.

Perhaps the next time you come to visit, I'll tell you about the day we met.

…

Hello, Detective. You got caught in the rain, I see. Oh, look at it coming down! It looks like sheets of glass from these windows. It's not quite the same from the cell windows, though the view from the infirmary's alright, if you can get away with climbing up on the cabinet to have a look. I wish I could smell it, you know, I would not want to go outside in it, just open a window and lean out for a moment, take in the smell. Vesen liked-likes-to go out in the rain, though not for very long. To spin around in it and look at the raindrops up close. He would say that the colours of the world looked different when seen through the rain and they are, aren't they? With the amount of rain out there, everything looks silvery.

Oh, yes, I did say that, didn't I? Well, it wasn't raining that day. In fact, it had been snowing for a while. It had been snowing the day they found Vesen, too. No, I didn't meet him the day he was found. I didn't even see him. Most of the other children at the orphanage had been taken out on a trip, to an ice-rink or something, I think. I wasn't on the trip, as punishment for getting into a fight. It was a common occurrence, back then. I'd been in the orphanage two, maybe three years. I have to think. I was almost ten when I met Vesen, and I'd come to the orphanage just after I'd turned seven so…yeah, almost three years by then.

Come to think of it, if I remember correctly then my arrival at the orphanage would have been around the same time your Gabriel disappeared, yes? Meaning that, if Vesen was really your Gabriel, that he had clearly been somewhere else for a long time. In any case, the director found him while bringing the rest of the children back. He was barefoot, not dressed for the cold at all, and apparently he was in a trance. When the other workers came back with the rest of the children, while the director had rushed the boy off to hospital-because at that stage, he was 'the boy'-they said that he was like a zombie. Not speaking or anything. In any case, time went by, he came back from the hospital but they kept him in the orphanage's infirmary for a while, while they arranged a room. Two of the littler, sweeter kids were in the last stages of getting adopted, and I suppose they were waiting for that to be sorted before they moved this kid into the room. That, and apparently he was still strange and silent.

I still hadn't seen him at this point, but some other children had, and had gotten into some trouble for it. The adults were worried because he was 'delicate' and didn't want any of us harassing him. Obviously, that just made the rest of the kids curious. I wasn't any more or any less curious than them, but what I was instead was a child who got into fights. Who had a rage bigger than her body with no way of containing it, because that rage was actually fear and loneliness that hadn't been soothed and instead became something sharper. Something that built up pressure under the skin, that cut at the mind. And being an aggressive child, a trouble-maker, disturbed-well now, those were the only ways to release that pressure, to move the blades away for just a moment.

I won't go into the hows and whys of ending up in the orphanage, but I suppose my early childhood was ordinary as far as tragic childhoods go, really. Ordinary enough that really, adults should have realised what was happening with me and yet, instead of that, they expected me to be grateful. They wanted all my problems to have been erased the moment that I was scooped out of squalor, because that was how that was supposed to work. If I had been shy, and sweet, and far too eager to please then they'd have seen that I was reeling and unmoored, feeling lost and needing to be assured that I was loved and worthy. They couldn't see that the same longing existed under food-hoarding and snarling and bad language.

I am going off-track, a little. I should say that they were not bad people. They were not evil abusers or anything like that. With age and distance, I can say that the orphanage workers mostly did their best. But if I hadn't been so determined to show I wasn't weak, then my unrecognised desperation and desolation would have had me walking hunched over, arms wrapped around my body in an effort to keep it in. And as I said, the only way to keep upright was to be the aggressive child, the trouble-maker, the disturbed one. So the day I did actually meet Vesen, I was being kept back from yet another treat because of a fight. But since there wasn't anyone else for me to pick a new fight with, I was mostly left to my own devices. I got bored at one point in the day, and wandered around the orphanage for a bit, eventually ending up at the infirmary. The nurse had left for a moment, I'm not sure why, but whatever the reason, I saw my opportunity and decided to strike.

So I tip-toed in, having the sense to not startle the boy, though I'd heard that he hadn't spoken yet either. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't scream, right? So I padded in carefully and waited by the foot of his bed, and looked at him. His bed was by the window, so he was looking out there at the snow and the people rushing around but it was clear that he wasn't seeing them. Even from where I was standing, his eyes were the emptiest things I had ever seen and something about them chilled me. I think I actually shivered and tried to avoid looking at them. So I looked at how pale he was, how skinny, and I noted the black of his hair and wondered who on earth dyed a little kid's hair. Because the children my age and under were the 'little ones' and even though he was long-legged I could tell he could only be a little older than me, and one of the workers had once freaked out when the teenagers had let some of the seven year olds use their leftover hair-dye. Yeah, I could tell. Even then, it was obvious. It wasn't a good dye job, for one thing. The colour was as flat and lifeless as the look on his face.

In the end, it was his pyjamas that gave me something to talk about. They looked brand-new, which made me a little jealous, but they had penguins all over them. I just so happened to be carrying a toy penguin. It wasn't mine, as such, or particularly precious. Just something that I'd picked up and had been playing with but hadn't yet discarded. But I had that penguin in my hands, and he had penguins on his pyjamas so I said:

"Hey, we match!"

He didn't react to that, of course, so I marched up closer and said:

"Hey, look! Look over here!"

And he did. Well, to be more accurate, he turned his face towards me but his eyes were still glassy. I wasn't about to let that deter me, so I held the penguin out, using it to point to his pyjamas as I then said:

"We match, see! You have penguins and I have penguins. Well, one penguin. Hey, can I sit here?"

I wasn't so polite as to wait for him to say yes, so I just sat down on the side of the bed anyway. He kept staring right through me, and I kept sitting there practically shoving the penguin in his face, suddenly struck dumb. But then, very slowly, I could see something changing. I didn't quite realise it, but when he lifted up a hand and poked the penguin, that's when I realised it. That glassy look in his eyes, it was melting away.

"You can have it, if you want!"

That was pretty much the only thing I could think of saying when I saw his expression was clearing, and when he blinked I shoved it into his hands. It slipped away onto the bed, but then he grabbed it, holding it up in both hands and frowning at it as though he'd never seen a toy penguin before. He sort of turned it around in his hands, but then turned to tuck it in next to him before looking at me. It was like he was studying me, trying to figure me out, because after a few moments of staring he tilted his head slightly, frowning. It was clear he was asking me a question, even though I couldn't figure out what it was.

"What?" I asked. "Can't you talk?"

He tilted his head again and frowned, and then reached out towards my face. Before I could even react, he'd poked my face slightly. It hurt, but that was because there was a bruise there from the fight that I'd been in. And he realised this because he tilted his head again, and his mouth downturned. It was a kind of exaggerated expression, the way you'd pout at a toddler so they understand what a sad face is. But I could tell that he was trying to ask what had happened and if I was alright. I'm not sure how I knew that, mind you, but I knew. I don't remember what I said about it, but no doubt I tried to scoff, act as if it was not a big deal but he just gave that worried look to me, and then patted my hand.

I then told him the name that I wasn't, because after all, at that time it was the only name I had. When I asked for his, though, he just looked at me. He was so still for a moment, that I thought he was going back to being strange and see-through and even though I had literally just met him I couldn't bear the thought of that happening to him and I think I got snappy, because the next thing I knew the nurse had come in, yelling at me. Except then she stopped mid-sentence, because he had grabbed onto my arm tightly, pressing himself up against me as though he was trying to hide behind me. He was biting his fingernails of the hand he wasn't using to hold onto me and properly cowering, but it wasn't so strange that he'd be afraid of the nurse's voice. I mean, I was a kid, it wasn't as if I understood what trauma was. But I knew that people found yelling scary sometimes, and I also knew that he was strange. But what was truly strange was that he'd turned to me to soothe that fear, and suddenly I felt…weighted down, but not in a bad way. In fact, it was good. Even now, I don't really know how to explain that feeling. But nobody had ever turned to me like that before, and my instinct was to do what he needed and soothe that fear.

"It's alright," I told him. "Nurse isn't mad at you, she's mad at me. I wasn't supposed to be here."

I tried to pull away from him, but although he straightened he didn't let go. If anything, his grip tightened and he shook his head, looking scared again.

"Okay, I'll stay, but only if I'm allowed. I'm already in buckets of trouble. Hey, Nurse, can I stay?"

And when I looked back at Nurse, she was staring at the two of us as if we'd grown two heads. Of course, now I can see that it was because she'd been dealing with an unresponsive, uncommunicative child for days before I'd sauntered in and done whatever I'd done. But I had no idea of that, of course, so I just stared back at her.

"Why, that's…he's communicating with you?" the nurse asked.

I shrugged, because I was still confused. The nurse didn't seem much clearer, as she sighed and scratched her head and then said:

"Alright, you can stay for a while. But don't cause too much of a racket."

The nurse went off to do something else, and I looked at him, noticing how bright and alert he seemed now, practically brimming with questions. He was still a little fearful, and again there was that instinct to soothe it.

"It's okay, I can stay!" I told him.

He tilted his head for a moment as he considered this, and then, quite suddenly, he smiled. And then the weighted feeling made sense. I'd done something right. Nine years old, and sitting on that infirmary bed with a strange boy looking at me as though I was the world, that was the first time in my life that I'd felt like I'd done something right. Do you know what that's like? I was nine. Nine years old, almost ten and up until that moment I had felt like I was made of one disaster piled upon another, stitched together with mistakes and regrets.

Yet it was me, the mess that I was, that had been able to get him to look at things and actually see. I had had a conversation with him, of sorts and most importantly I'd made him smile. Me, of all people. Yes, I suppose that did make me feel rather powerful but more than that it was…how do I put this? Well, people say that with great power comes great responsibility, right? It was the responsibility that I felt, more than anything. I wanted to live up to it, more than anything.

Here, a better way of putting it: the story I've just told you, it's not just the story of the day I met Vesen. It's the story of how he saved me.

It's that time already? Well, looks as if you'll just get caught up in that rain again. Look at it going. I can almost see him in it, you know. Vesen. I can see him spinning around in it with arms flung wide the way he's done so many times. If he were actually here, any moment now he'd turn and look at me and persuade me to come out too. I have so many memories of moments like that, that seeing him now, a compilation of all those memories, I keep expecting him to turn but he won't. He's just spinning and spinning and he looks so happy but…I want him to stop, and turn, and smile at me. It's just my imagination, I know. It's all in my head but…it's not moving forward and I want it to move forward, this imagining. I want him to stop and to look at me and beckon me out into this silver-hazy world that the rain had created. I want to see his face again. I need to see his smile again.

But I can't. I just can't.

…

I have a question for you today, actually. I assume that I'm allowed to ask questions too. So, here's mine: were you good to her?

What do you mean, who? I'm talking about Camellia, of course. Yes, I know what you were, and I'm not just talking about her being your mole. I'm guessing that nobody else knows, then? Clever of you, managing to keep a lid on it. If they catch her, I don't imagine she'd keep it a secret. Truth be told, I'm surprised. If I had a suspicion, then surely someone else must have. Mind you, it is of no consequence to me. But back to my actual question-were you good to her?

I don't need to know the details. I know full well this wasn't anything near to a romance, not even a holiday fling. Just a satisfaction of needs but I saw it, you know. The way she looked at you, sometimes. The hunger in her, it had fangs and it had claws. Deadlier than an addiction, more than an infatuation. Don't let it get to your head, but you do justify that type of hunger and as for her…well, she's always been beautiful, Cam has. I wonder how much resistance you put up, because you must have, someone as unbearably upright as you. Though I guess not that upright, since I saw you looking at her in much the same way, later on. But I don't need the prurient details. I have no interest in blabbing on you. Just tell me, were you good to her? Even accounting for what you were and what you had, did you treat her well? I know you'd see her as you'd see me, just a criminal, but she was a person too, wild and beautiful and hungry for you and you better have recognised that.

Well, of course I'm fucking angry. Idiot. I didn't like that she was interested in you even before I knew that she had been selling us out all along. It's a pretty bad idea to get involved with a detective, and Euphoria kept making us think he'd been as well and near enough giving me a heart attack every time… god, that man, he could be so frustrating.

But we're talking about Cam and yes, of course I was furious when I realised the betrayal. I almost wanted to claw her eyes out for it. But she was still one of mine, because she was part of Vivace and Vivace was mine. And yes, Vesen was first and always in everything, the one I'd choose to rescue from a burning building above anyone else but as I said, she was one of mine. I loved her still, just as I loved the others. Love them, still. So I am still glad that she escaped, that she's more than likely halfway to the island she probably wanted to retire to. But I still need to know that she was alright when all of this happened.

So, tell me, just bloody well tell me.

Were you good to her?

Alright. I'll believe you. If I ever get to see her again though, I will ask her the same thing, just to be sure. Deep down, I know that I won't get that chance, just as I won't see Krau and Euphoria. I'm not allowed to, after all, as you very well know. It being part of our sentences and all. And then there's Vesen. I still hope that someday, I'll get to see him again. One way or another.

Do you know what I wished for, for once our heist life was done? Not a tropical island, like the others wanted, but a house somewhere in softer weather. Gentle spring sunlight, and a big house. Near to the city, because the two of us have the city in our blood, but with gardens so large it could almost be the countryside. Green, as far as can be seen, flowers everywhere. Space enough for an outbuilding that would become a workshop for Vesen to make things. Any things that he'd want to make, of course. That has always been what he likes doing best, building things and taking them apart and building them again, all sorts of things. How else do you think he was able to become our technician in the first place, hmm? Gardening would count, as something to make and remake, so I'd leave him to that, too. The cooking would either have to be done by me, or we'd have to employ someone and pay them extra for discretion, because Vesen never li-doesn't like cooking. You can't uncook something, so he's never wanted anything to do with cooking. It never mattered with us, because he never minded cleaning. If anything, he can-could-can be annoyingly tidy. So in this house, the gardening and the cleaning would be his to do, and the rest I'd figure out.

And I like to think that in that garden there'd be a tree, a big tree, sturdy enough to hold a swing. I've always wanted to have a tree swing. I've also always wanted a walk-in wardrobe, so one room of this house would be just that. A walk-in wardrobe. Though if I was to walk out of here now and find that house I would have to build up its contents from scratch, wouldn't I? I rather hope my dresses aren't rotting away in an evidence cabinet some place. I'd much rather they be used to make some other girl feel beautiful instead. That's neither here nor there, though, I suppose.

But this house. It would be big, with enough room for the others to stay, if they ever felt like leaving their tropical islands, and a bedroom for the each of us. Next to each other, of course, so I'd never have far to go if I ever woke up scared in the night. Big, beautiful windows to let in the light and to better see the silver-haze rain, framed with velvet curtains. A living room with a fireplace, and a high ceiling, with enough room for the largest Christmas tree possible. Roses growing in an arch around the front door. Chandeliers in some rooms, but not all of them, because that would just be ostentatious. Mmm, yes, I suppose it does sound rather like a stately home but it wouldn't be that at all, it would just be our home. A little world for the two of us. Perhaps I'd name it like a stately home, though.

Well now, let's see. Since Cruise X ended up being our last heist anyway, let's imagine that that was how it was meant to be all along. Clara Wild and James Wynter, that's who we'd be walking away from it as, and of course we'd be discarding those names but…it was being James Wynter and Clara Wild that would have gotten us to our new little world in the first place. And rich, important men name their houses and lands and legacies after themselves and their achievements all the time. So, why not name this place, our house, the same way? Wynter and Wild. Wynterwild.

Yes, I think that sounds good. Our big house, with gardens and wide windows and velvet curtains, with roses around the door and chandeliers in some rooms, with space for a Christmas tree and a walk-in wardrobe and workshops. Our little world, just for the two of us.

It will be called Wynterwild.

…

No, Cruise X wasn't meant to be the last heist at all. We were young, still, why would it have been? Part of me wishes that it had been, then maybe I would have planned things differently. Then we could have had Wynterwild after all, and Vesen would be safe. And you would still be searching for us and wondering if he really was your Gabriel or not. Certainly though, that necklace would have been a real breakthrough for us. I don't suppose octopuses and sharks have much use for valuable jewellery, but let them enjoy it anyway. I'd rather that than anyone else having it. Where is the rest of the Holmes-Wright fortune going anyway? There really isn't anyone left to inherit, is there? Except maybe Krau's family, I suppose. Oh, no matter. I can try and just find out myself anyway.

Yes, that's right. I did have my eyes on the rest of the late Lachlan Holmes' fortune, amongst other things. That necklace was meant to be the start of it all. It was not my only option, though, because I always made sure to have a list of possible targets. I liked to keep my options open. Yes, going on a cruise was not perhaps the best way to go for keeping options open but please, it's not as if Delilah Wright was the only wealthy person aboard that ship. She may have been the most important and one of the wealthiest of those wealthy people, but that was all.

Huh? First ever heist? Why would you want to know about that? I promise you, it's not something that would interest you. In any case, I've always been a thief. Before the orphanage, it was one of the only ways I survived. In the orphanage, older kids sometimes stole younger ones' possessions, and stealing was the only way to get them back. I myself did not steal from younger ones as I got older, but that didn't mean I didn't steal from others in general. I have always coveted pretty things. But asides from that, I was also one of many who'd steal food when they first arrived, who didn't realise that food, at least, was something that would be a certainty there.

But the first heist, if it can even be called that, was something completely different. Vesen and I, we stole our records at the orphanage. I'd been in the orphanage director's office plenty of times being told off for one infraction or another, so I knew where our records were kept. I knew that room inside out, and the director was predictable in his routines. As for why, well, we were seventeen, close to eighteen, and we'd soon be leaving. We wanted to know what, exactly, the adults who had been in our lives thought of us. Neither of us were particularly destined for great things. Oh, Vesen was clever, sharper than your entire INTERPAL department or whatever put together, I'd bet. But that's not the same as being good at school. I, on the other hand, just wasn't either of those things. Make no mistake, I'm not stupid, but my early life meant I fell behind at school which meant I didn't understand, and that contributed to my rage, which then made me fall behind…you see, don't you, what a vicious cycle it is.

But that's besides the point really, isn't it? We wanted to know what was said of us, the definitive judgement of us before we cast it all behind. We'd decided, the two of us, to go down underground, so to speak. We had…well, not friends, exactly. It was too spiky and complicated to call it friendship, but there were others who had been in the orphanage with us, whose prospects hadn't been great either. They'd made a name for themselves in crime, one way or another. Yes, these would be my earlier underground contacts. But on top of that, there was a code between all of us at the orphanage that no matter how much we really hated each other, we helped each other out. The only ones who never stuck to it were the rare, miraculous ones to manage to 'rise above' their origins and become successful in conventional ways. Vesen and I, we weren't ever going to be those successes but neither did we want a life of drudgery. So we were always going to be lawbreakers, one way or another. But together. Before that, though, we wanted to know what our records said about us.

Before Cruise X, it was the only heist I ever regretted.

No, it didn't go wrong at all. If anything, it went perfectly. But you have to remember, Vesen's background was a mystery to everyone. In all those years he never remembered where he came from or how he ended up in the snow, and he never has since. But whatever happened left its marks on him. On his body, on his mind. You could say that even the erasure of his memory counts as a mark. Any fool can see it, even if you had no idea what his history-or lack of it-was. But the records…the medical records, listing signs of injuries and the horrific theories over what could have caused them. Records of his behaviour, and what they could be signs of. The things in there, they were crimes, pure and simple. And because I thought it was a good idea for us to read our records, he found out he was a victim of those crimes. It was bad enough that he's had to live with the effects of them but to actually see it, in that stark black and white. It was somehow worse, seeing it like that. The language was cold and academic, too lofty, almost as if they'd forgotten he was a person and just saw him as an unusual case study. But if anything, that made it worse. Made the violence starker. And it was me who inflicted that on him. If I hadn't insisted he'd never have seen it, never would have known. But that day, he read it and it was like he was retreating back into himself, to become the glassy-eyed silent boy he'd been when I'd first met him and I'd never been so scared for him. Every night for a week, I'd go to his room just to make sure he hadn't slipped away. Everywhere we went, we held hands, the way we had done in the first weeks of our friendship. Until Cruise X, I had never been more terrified for his sake.

I was meant to protect him, and that day I failed. He'd saved me, that day when I was nine and then I had done this and it was unforgivable. I vowed to myself that I would never fail again and for years, I managed to live up to that. And then Cruise X happened and well…you and I both know how that turned out. I failed again. I guess you'll never know now, will you, if he ever was your Gabriel but what does it matter? Did you know, Alistair's done with his article? I think he'll be publishing it soon, and that will be that, I suppose. Time for him to move on to whatever the next scandal is. He gets to move on, while I cannot. I wonder, to you, is that justice served?

Forget it. Don't answer that. It looks like time's up, anyway.

…

It's been a while. I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me, or that you decided that you were done with me as well. Oh, you have news for me? About what? No, wait, really, Euphoria escaped? When was this? Was he hurt, as far as you know? That's good. I'm sure you'll understand when I say that I hope you don't find him. He'll be perfectly fine, out in the world. He's too slippery for his own good, most of the time, but in this type of situation he'll be alright. I'm sure of it. Nonetheless, I'll pray for him, but what of Krau?

He…he told you that? You're allowed to pass on messages on my behalf? Of course not, silly of me to hope. But surely if you can tell me that he said that then you can tell him something from me. Just one thing. Good. Then, tell him…tell him that I understand. I'm still pissed off that he hid that he was actually Erickson Keller-Holmes, but I do understand and that I'm sorry. Tell him I miss him too. Tell him…tell him thank you, for being a good friend to Vesen.

There are things I wish I could say to Euphoria and Camellia, too. Things I wish I could have done differently, with both of them. I mean, Euphoria's mischievousness could be such a pain, and even if it was never for long I'd find myself frequently annoyed by him. But he's so funny, so sparkly and witty. If I had spent more time enjoying that instead, oh if only. As for Cam, I look back and wonder, what could I have done differently? I always thought we had each other's backs, not just the two of us but all five of us, but by Cruise X we were all separating, were we. No longer side by side or back to back, but going on separate paths? Krau had his revenge, Camellia had already thrown her lot in with you. Euphoria was just Euphoria.

And then there's Vesen. Even if what happened with the others completely blindsided me, I still knew they had their own goals or whatever. But Vesen was always mine. I was always his. I had thought that would be constant. I was supposed to take care of him, and then Cruise X happened. If I had any idea that any of it was going to happen I'd never have planned that heist. Never. I'd have chosen something else and maybe…just maybe…

Ah, you know, don't you, that it's him I miss the most. It's the worst thing about being here. Not the fact that I'm stuck in what is a soulless place, not the loss of the many little freedoms that other people miss like choosing clothes and food and not being at the mercy of someone else's routine. But him, just the absence of him. Even when I'm free from here, I still may as well be imprisoned because he's not here anymore. There will never be any Wynterwild for me, not really.

Still, despite that, I'm going to find him after this. When I am let out, I'm going to find him one way or another, so that I can apologise. I need to apologise. I don't imagine that I'd earn his forgiveness, I don't think I deserve it but all the same I need to apologi-

What? What are you looking at me like that for?

Yes, I am aware of what happened! I was there, wasn't I? I watched it all happen and could do nothing, nothing because you were the one who had clapped handcuffs around my wrists! You were the one pulling me away even as I tried to do something! It was you who couldn't leave well enough alone. You were the one who made such a fuss about Vesen resembling your Gabriel and how much you claimed to love him before turning around and ruining everything! I'm perfectly fucking aware of what happened and what that actually means for Vesen but there's so much I don't actually know. Whether it's because you don't know or you just don't want to tell me, there's uncertainty. I don't even know where he is. There is no final, single place I can go to give my apologies and to cry for him, the only person I'd ever cry for. All of this, it's as much your fault as it is mine, so how dare you? You really don't know, do you, just what you've taken?! You don't know and yet you just want to keep taking, don't you? As if you have any right to tell me what I should think and feel about all this!

Go, just go. I can't even look at you.

…

I didn't expect to see you again, especially not so soon. Well, yes, but I get so many letters it sort of makes up for it. Oh, you know, the usual. Preachy types who think I'm going to hell for being attractive and knowing it. Fan clubs of people who think I'm so glamorous, fans asking me for fashion tips, fans asking for interviews even though I made it clear the one with Alistair was the one and only. Then there are the marriage proposals. Those ones are funny, actually. I read some of them out to the others on my cell block and we all go into hysterics. Honestly, being a sad creep is something that crosses boundaries-gender, race, class, everything you can think of. But anyway, what they also show is that for all these letters claim that I'm their soulmate or whatever, they don't know that I'm basically already married anyway. Not properly, of course. Why the hell would I have wanted to leave more of a paper trail than needed? That and it's all outdated and sexist anyway, the only good thing about it is the pretty dresses at weddings. But in the most important sense, of pledging an entire life to a single person, in the sense of loving forever and always and endlessly-well, I am already married.

Or, I guess you could say widowed, instead. There, is that 'aware' enough for you?

Let me tell you about a time when we were eighteen. This was very soon after we'd left the orphanage together. We lived in a rather stuffy little apartment, only one bedroom. That could be quite challenging, quite frankly. Vesen has always had an extreme clean streak and while I'm no slob I am…not quite that tidy. We lived on baked beans half the time, and we each held down multiple part-time jobs. On the surface, it seemed like the kind of dead-end life that we wanted to escape, but both of us knew it wasn't forever. Already, we were making our mark in the underground world. The apartment we lived in was over a casino, and Vesen would fix their machines. As time went by, he'd fix patrons' personal devices or gadgets too. I'd run errands for the casino owner, mostly passing on messages he didn't want a trace of. Sometimes, I'd get dressed up and serve drinks. Nothing more, nothing less. I hadn't quite grown into my rage yet, and most who knew me knew not to push me. Any new customers would soon learn.

Despite that, we were really happy. Not just because we knew it wasn't forever but because first and foremost, we had each other. More than that- we were free. We'd have leftover takeaway pizza for breakfast the next morning-when we were able to even get takeaway that was. During our free-time, we explored the city. Even though most of it came from charity shops and the like, I had much greater freedom in building up my collection of outfits to be the exact way I wanted it instead of whatever was donated to the orphanage in my size. We decorated our crappy apartment with lights. Pretty lamps, battery powered fairy-lights, solar-powered garden ornaments we'd leave by the window all day to soak up the sun before relocating them around the room to light up our nights.

When we'd been working at the casino together one day, we decided to go shopping afterwards. Mostly for groceries, and I needed shampoo too, but then Vesen spotted some solar powered light-bulb things. They were bright colours-blue and yellow and magenta and green- and the glass had a crackled pattern. They were reduced to clear, presumably because the little handles they were meant to hang from were broken. So of course, we bought the lot. It had been a night shift, and it was the middle of the morning by the time we actually returned to our apartment. But rather than go to bed the moment we'd packed everything away, we climbed out onto the roof. Vesen hauled up the bag of light bulbs with him, and arranged them out in front of us, the solar panel bits facing the sunlight. He handed two to me, and I didn't quite understand why, but then he took the final two and held them up. Because it was sunny, they obviously didn't actually light up, but the sun reflected off the glass. He would swing them from side to side, and the reflections made patterns on his hands. It was easy to imagine what they'd look like later on, in the dark, when they made use of all that absorbed sunlight. So I held my two up as well, and we just sat there for a little while.

Then, Vesen turned his head to look at me, and said the name that I wasn't. We had not decided on the aliases we would use, so the names we weren't were all we had. But he said the name that I wasn't, and then said:

"I don't want to forget this."

I turned to look at him.

"Why would you forget it?"

"The light-bulbs are still hungry!" he protested, instead of answering.

It took me a moment to realise that I'd put the light bulbs down, and since he wasn't going to answer me until I picked them up, I did that and then asked again:

"Why would you forget it? What do you mean?"

"I worry sometimes, that something else will happen and that I'll forget everything all over again."

"It won't."

That was my immediate reaction, to glare and bark that out. Over the years, that had been my fear. More so than the possibility of his memory returning and his family coming to take him away from me forever. He has been…no, no, was, he always was so vulnerable. Not weak, never weak. But I was always on the lookout for a sign he was slipping back to the glassy-eyed boy I'd first met. Just like with the records, like I told you before. I didn't want him to slip back to that place, which I knew for sure was very empty and very dark. All that fear seemed to bubble up when Vesen made that confession up there on the rooftop, I couldn't keep it from spilling out. But then he tilted his head at me, and it reminded me of when we first met, but in a different way. It reminded me of how it had felt to have finally done something right, and how I'd always been trying to live up to that.

"It won't." I said empathetically after taking a breath. "I won't let it. I will always, always keep you safe. No harm will ever come to you, I will never let you down. I promise."

Vesen looked at me thoughtfully for a moment more, then turned to look back at the sky, swinging his light bulbs. A few moments passed before he then said:

"Then I'll promise to not forget you."

I opened my mouth to say something else, but he hadn't finished.

"I might forget the day we went to buy all the light bulbs and spent the morning feeding them the sun, and I might forget that we lived here and everything else. But I won't forget that you've always been by my side, and I won't forget you. Somehow, even if I forget our names and faces, I'll still remember you."

And whatever I had been going to say, it completely left my head. He said it so straightforwardly, but still looking at the sky and 'feeding' the light bulbs. In the end, all I could do was just lean my head against his shoulder.

We sat like that for a little while, until our arms grew tired. Then we climbed back in, and arranged the light bulbs with our other decorations on the windowsill. The rest of the day unfolded like most of our days did, and then as the sun started to set we put them out as we usually did. That night, we didn't even bother turning the main lights on when we had our dinner or when we cleaned up and undressed for bed. It was as if we'd lit the entire night up, not just our little apartment. Even when we moved onto bigger and better, I made sure we had the lights with us. I imagined that we'd have them with us when we had our Wynterwild, too, so that we could light up our nights for eternity, however long that would be for us.

Vesen's beyond memory now, isn't he? Even so, in the end he's still the one who turned out to be better at promises than I was. After all, would either of us be here if I had been able to keep mine?

Somehow, I don't think so.

…

Wow, you haven't changed at all. After all this time, I would have expected something to be different about you, but you look exactly the same. I suppose I do, too. They allow me some more personal possessions now, including a few of the things I had when I came here, so I can put a little more effort into my appearance. I've made myself a little shrine in my cell. My scarf, from the masquerade night's outfit. A pair of Camellia's sunglasses, blue-black feather things that decorated a lot of Krau's accessories, one of Euphoria's cowboy hats. I'm not sure how I even ended up having those things, but nonetheless, they're part of my shrine now. I also have a few photographs of me and Vesen, and a little mouse he made me while on Cruise X. An intricate clockwork thing, made from bits of broken watches and jewellery, with a clasp to attach it to a necklace or a headpiece. I wore it on the cruise, the night before that final night. Do you remember?

Oh. Oh well. I suppose I should thank you for the letters. I wasn't expecting you to write to me, but they were nice, those letters. They were like little moments of calm amongst the sea of the creepy stuff and the preaching. I mean, I get less of those now, but I do still get them. It was quite funny to see you address me as 'Miss Wild' on paper, though. Every time I read it I always imagined your voice the way it was on that day on Cruise X, when I cornered you in the empty dining hall and tried to warn you off of Vesen. That polite manner, the voice that made me think of clean folds in pure-white paper, giving no hint that you knew who I really was. You didn't miss a beat, you really acted as if you thought I was nothing more than a rich girl making a fuss over her 'Jamie'. It was quite impressive. Your letters, they read almost as if you're writing to an ordinary person, it makes me feel strange. I did like them though, so thank you.

Speaking of that day, though. At the beginning of all this, Detective, you came here saying you wanted to understand everything that happened. I wanted to be understood, so I have talked myself hoarse every time you came. Given voice to thoughts and feelings that I didn't think could ever be voiced. Yet I still think that you look back to that confrontation and only think of that conversation as a strategy. There is a part of you that thinks that it was nothing more than an effort to make sure you didn't dig deeper into us. Isn't there?

Di you still think that now? After all this, do you still think that? Let me tell you what I thought of you. Not that you were a threat to our plans, though that was a consideration. I thought of you as a threat to him. I told you that Vesen was 'built differently', and that's still the best way to describe it. When we were at the orphanage, they tried to diagnose him as a bunch of different things, but none of them quite stuck. But I also understood that you really did believe that he could possibly be your Gabriel, even though you'd thought him dead all this time. I knew that you were telling me the truth about that, at least and that terrified me too. Whether it was true or not, part of me wondered if you'd take him away from me anyway.

Don't lie. You would have, I'm sure. You're only saying that now because you've listened to me baring my soul, but I didn't back then. Even telling you about the masquerade masks was difficult, a story carefully chosen because it wasn't too personal and because I knew it'd make you understand. Funny, that. It seems like all our interactions have been about understanding each other. But that's beside the point. Back then, I think you would have taken him away if you decided that he was actually your Gabriel. You'd have seen it as 'rescuing' him, especially if you found out we were criminals. Remember, I didn't know that you knew, back then. You held all the power back then, and I tried so hard to claw some of it back. If Vesen was gone then I may as well have been dead myself, really. Before Vesen, the only thing I wanted was to not die, and let me tell you that is not the same as living.

In that confrontation, you told me I was selfless. You were wrong about that, too. I was selfish, selfish right down to the core. Still, like I said to you back then-what did selflessness have to do with anything? What did Vesen's being 'built differently' being hard to manage have to do with anything? He was mine, first and always. Even if he was your Gabriel, to me he was my Vesen. I think, for all I was trying to keep up the façade and make sure you did not get suspicious of us, I had to make you understand just what Vesen was to me, so that he'd be safe and I wouldn't be torn apart. It didn't work though, did it?

…

We did get cut short last time, didn't we? It can't be helped, though. So, what did you want to ask?

Hate you? Detective, I'm far too tired for that. I am in a mourning period that will never end. Besides, you really are muddying the waters with your letter writing and your patience. I'm starting to think you're looking for forgiveness. I don't think you'll find it here, though. Actually, I know you won't find it. Like I said, it is your fault too, after all.

Hmm? You did believe me? Sorry, about what? Oh, that day. So, you're telling me that you could tell that Vesen was important to me. Why, then, did you proceed how you did? Why? You could have chosen differently, too. There are worse crimes that are committed every day, plenty of them by people like the ones Vivace stole from. Most likely, some crimes were committed by the people we actually stole from. Yet you expended so much time and energy on pursuing us. Mind you, it's not as if I'm a particularly moral person myself, so even though I know the justice system frankly needs to be burnt to the ground and rebuilt, I don't actually care about that. It's just, the way you went on, your Gabriel was clearly your most precious person. You'd spent all this time grieving, and then you saw Vesen and that gave you hope so I don't get why you didn't prioritise that instead. You could have found out for sure, if he was your Gabriel, and inst-

What? What is it?

You've found out? When? How? Wait…is that…is that his hair? I'm not even going to ask how you got that. Still, I'm guessing you tested it, to find out. Tell me, was Vesen your Gabriel, or not?

Ah. Well. There it is then.

I mean, either way the end result is the same, isn't it? We're both still bereft.

I guess that's why you're really here, huh?

This gives you a reason to…to find him, I'm guessing. After all, you might be able to retrace our steps backwards and perhaps even find out where he was before he ended up in the snow that day. You could find out what happened between him being your Gabriel and becoming my Vesen. Surely your justice system wouldn't deprive him of that, despite what he became.

Oh, you have to go soon? Well, maybe next time you could tell me about your Gabriel, and what he was like when he was little. Bring me some photographs. If I can get permission to take the photographs out of my cell, I'll do that too. Before you do go though, let me share a memory of that camera. It was an old Polaroid one, someone donated it with a bunch of other things when we were both about eleven. It was battered, so the older kids weren't interested, and it wasn't colourful enough for the littler ones, but Vesen was fascinated. He was finally talking regularly, and he never stopped expressing his curiosity about literally everything. In some ways, I guess he was like a little kid in that way, always asking questions and trying to figure things out. The camera was no different, and together we had a lot of fun with it. Once we'd run out of camera roll, Vesen took it apart, rebuilt it, then took it apart again and used the pieces to make all sorts of random things. One of our smaller tool cases that we bought onto Cruise X was actually made up from the casing of that old camera.

There is not a single aspect of my life that he did not make better, just for existing. Everything good in my world, I owe it to him, really. Strangely enough, that seems to include you now.

But that doesn't mean you're forgiven.

…

I have been thinking I want to sing again. I'm surprised nobody ever asked about our music, considering what an integral part of our cover it was. It wasn't that way before we formed Vivace, but we all enjoyed music in some way. Vesen and I, we learnt it as adults. Vesen managed it almost entirely from fixing instruments, which just goes to show, how clever he was. Anyway, we only learnt as adults because the music lessons in school weren't really up to much, and it's not as if we could go to fancy music classes. I think Krau and Camellia both had those fancy classes-I sensed that they had the types of families that practically shoved music on their children as nothing more than an advantageous extracurricular, but they still left behind those lives carrying some actual passion and talent. With Euphoria, I always got the sense music was a true passion. Not quite as much as making trouble, but a passion all the same. If it was his family that got him music lessons, it was because they saw he loved it and wanted him to do well and be happy. It's not as if I really know, after all. We did not share those types of things, though things were often alluded to. Even with Vesen and I, though they knew that we were together at the orphanage they didn't know the half of it. I sometimes wonder if we should have confided more in each other. Then again, all of us were master thieves with our own issues. It was not as if our relationship was perfect.

Even so, it was a relationship full of perfections. Perfect moments, like when we would complete a heist and scramble off into the sunset, laughing and knowing that our targets would be flailing. Like when we had good-luck drinks before setting out on a new heist, or when we celebrated birthdays. We always celebrated birthdays, one way or another. And then there was the music. Our band. One of the pieces of advice I always gave was to always insert a little truth into the lies, to make them stick better, and in a way our cover as a band was that truth stuck in a lie. We were all good at music, and we all made good music together. So many of my warmer memories of Vivace are all tied up in the music.

I often think, sometimes, of long days spent practicing in one of our hideouts. How, in the breaks Euphoria would have us all playing card games until Vesen got bored and started trying to make houses out of his cards. Then, Euphoria would perform little magic tricks, while Cam would tell us the most outrageous stories and Krau and I would listen and laugh, and perhaps interject with some of our own.

I think of how sometimes, while I was cooking, Krau would play a few random chords on his guitar and Euphoria would persuade Vesen to provide an accompaniment by clattering together cutlery. Cam would groan at us and complain about how chaotic it sounded, and while she was right at the same time it was also hilarious. I'd always be laughing all the way through it, even if they persuaded me to try and sing something along with these made-up tunes.

I think of how we'd get up on the stage to perform, and each time, whether it was a legitimate performance or just a cover, I'd look at all of us in the moments before the curtains rose and just feel so proud. I could feel all the work we'd put in come together in that moment, and I just knew that we would be brilliant and we were, every time.

No, I can see that our relationship wasn't perfect at all, but like I said, it was still full of perfections. And I want to sing again, but I know it won't be the same without them. It wouldn't feel like music without them, not really. Just like how I could perhaps make a Wynterwild for myself, somewhere small and safe in the countryside, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be a Wynterwild at all.

…

A transfer? Where to? That's the other side of the country! I am guessing then, that you have come to tell me that you won't be coming to visit me anymore. In truth, it still surprises me that you have endured all this time. That you started to write me letters when your visits became less frequent, and sent me those photographs. I feel like I should have sent some back, but I don't have that many. That's…pictures from Cruise X? From who, Alistair? Oh, someone else, right. Yeah, publicity pictures from the specific cruise a murder occurred on isn't really the best look, is it? Even if that murder also got solved on the cruise. But having those pictures would… would be nice.

I cannot consider you a friend, before you ask. I still cannot call you Xayr. This, whatever it is, is a lot like my relationship with the other children at the orphanage and even with the others on my cell block here. It is far too spiky and complicated to be anything like a friendship, but all the same we are bound together. We may be on opposite sides of the law, the door, everything, but where Vesen and Gabriel are concerned we are side-by-side. Whether either of us likes it or not.

I wondered if this would be mutually beneficial when you first started coming. I guess it has been, more than expected. Though I rather suspect that you did not get the answers you were expecting. Still, let us exchange one last set of answers before you leave here for the last time. I'll ask you something, and then you can ask me one more thing. Hah, it's funny to be called a lady, but I'll take it. My question is this: Will you find him? Or, to be more specific, will you look for him and build that final place, so that when I'm finally free I can go and give my apologies?

Good, I'm glad. Okay, your question now.

Didn't we cover that already? Oh, you mean what I was ultimately looking for. It's quite funny that you ask that, because even after all this you're still stuck in the media-frenzy mindset. All those rumours that there was some specific piece or artefact I was searching for during all these heists. Of course, the rarer the better, the more worth it had but what I was ultimately looking for? You should know this by now, Detective. Think about it. Of course, I only named it once I was stuck here, but it was something I had in my mind all of this time. I've given you this answer already.

Go on, Detective. I'll give you a moment to think.

Yes, that's right. Nothing more and nothing less than that. Just:

Wynterwild.