…she will likely shatter it to pieces…
She'd definitely done that, even though she was as solid and gritty as Zakera Ward itself. Mother hadn't been so different; Father had been the one who seemed to float above everyone on some ethereal plane. Well, solid and gritty for the most part, aside from her weird human prayer, and her ability to understand what Father talked about. Mother hadn't been so different that way, either. She'd been a rock when Father had left him drifting in a sea of grief every time he'd left. And she sank that way too, into Kahje's endless ocean, nothing more than a heavy dinner for the fish, before he left for good. He rubbed his eyes as they burned and hoped he could shove yet another endless torrent of tears back in before they escaped.
He caught Ellen's sneaky tracery as he looked up; she pulled her hand away from Father's chest when she noticed him watching.
"You don't have to stop doing that, you know."
"This whole thing's got to be weird for you. I didn't want to push…"
"It's better Father has someone who loves him, right?"
"You ok?"
Was he? He wasn't dying, even if his head reeled with everything. Mother was a goddess. A real, solid, goddess brought to the galaxy. Except he knew she wasn't, even if his memories told him otherwise.
"I don't know. Memories…"
She nodded and shot a look at Father. I bet he remembered things, all right.
"Tell me something— what's it like to forget?"
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes boring into his soul. "It's not like you think. The stuff you want to forget, you usually don't, but it's hard to hold onto the things you want to remember."
"That… sucks."
"Pretty much. You know what I wish I could remember? Dad's bedtime stories, Mom's 'good morning' song. All the crazy toasts Mr. Hernandez came up with when we'd celebrate Nan's anniversary. You know what I actually remember? The damned gun going off in Dad's hand, Mr. and Mrs. Hernandez mauled by bullets, Sil falling in front of me… Mom's last scream as the rocks fell on her."
"I take it back. That really sucks."
She grinned. "I remember one of my teachers talking about why humans remember the way we do. Supposedly, we evolved to remember all the shitty stuff because it helped us survive being hunted by saber tooth tigers or something."
"Perhaps perfect memory is a gift, then," Father said. "I've wondered otherwise many times."
"Not for me," Ellen muttered.
Father raised an eyebrow, but she gave him a saccharine and sarcastic smile. She stroked Father's hand, letting her fingers play over his. Exploring them with almost every bit of her attention.
"Sidonis," Father said with a small chuckle.
"Dee-yos mee-yo," she said, but still smiled. "Surprised you didn't mention the rachni instead."
Damn inside jokes!
"Father?"
"Ellen refers to a few of my inquiries as 'interrogations.' I'll speak to you of them later, if you don't mind, Siha."
Her smile widened.
Father's interrogations—how he remembered them. Mother had called them "lectures," but he never thought that word quite fit. Lectures involved scolding, not endless questions to ferret out hidden motives. Mother had been the lecturer, especially when he'd moan about Father's disquiet ruining the peace of their home.
"More like torture," Ellen said. "I think even the most ruthless questioner stops to take a break after an hour or two."
"Some things never change," he said. "Why do you put up with it?"
She winked at Father. "Because, hidden in the barrage is love."
"What?"
"You think he'd waste his time if he didn't give a damn? I always get the feeling that he's trying to spare me the same kind of pain he's suffered by trying to make me understand what he's learned."
"Pretty hypocritical, if you ask me."
She shook her head.
"What does a hero have to learn from him?"
"A lot."
"Sure you do."
"Yeah, I do, even if you don't believe me."
"Like what?"
"Like how to release practicality every once in a while to do what's actually right. How to face your demons and win. How to keep hoping when it seems like the entire galaxy is falling apart around you. How to look at your own people with fresh eyes, rather than taking them for granted."
"Face your demons? Father's just great at that, isn't he?"
"Better than I am. He's here, right? You're not so bad at it either. Me, I suck. And I mean, really suck."
"Kolyat," Father said. "Why did you seek to follow my path?"
Why had he? He still didn't know. The documents had called to the gaping hole inside him that too much memory had suck out. He went off chasing evil, he'd thought as he'd shuffled through endless messages, endless notes of Father's. Maybe I can have him back, just a little. He hadn't thought of much else as he'd blackmailed Mouse into finding a contract, aside from a sneaking suspicion that Father's only motives in leaving hadn't been to save the galaxy from evil after all. No, it had been something completely ignoble, even if killing people like Talid might have done some good.
"Not now, Father. Can't we talk about something else?"
"This pains you. I have nothing to offer but an ear if you should wish it, Kolyat."
"I said, I'm sick of it. All of it. The pain, everything."
"Another wheel," Ellen said. "Time to break it."
Father's smile at her inane—or was it insane?— comment took him aback. "You speak Arashu's wisdom, Siha, with Amonkira's insight."
"You're going to explain that. Right?" He really didn't want to hear more of Father's pontification on the "Wheel of Fire" nonsense, but it was better than not knowing what the hell they were talking about.
"Life moves in cycles, Kolyat, as does the galaxy. Seasons change as planets rotate about the stars. Life rises and falls in an endless chain of birth and death…"
"Can it, Father!"
Father's amused smile made his stomach twist and he clenched a fist behind his pillow where he hoped Father couldn't see it. He glared at Ellen, also, who seemed to struggle to contain her smile. Great, she understands his sense of humor, and shares it. Wonderful.
"All I'm saying is that you hurt, Thane hurts, and what you've both suffered just keeps repeating and building on itself."
"A wheel, Kolyat. Ellen has spoken of the human wheel of suffering that hearkens much to the Wheel of Fire. It must be possible to break the cycle somehow, though I have as of yet to figure out how."
She shrugged. "Don't ask me. My own wheel fucked up the galaxy pretty good, didn't it?"
"Maybe."
Apologies for the references to the "Wheels" chapter of