She stared aimlessly at the ceiling: plain like guest rooms were without a permanent residence to leave any residue of individuality behind. She drifted off at times, fell into the realm of sleep and dreams and woke again to resume a silent vigil.

But what was she watching, waiting for? An unfamiliar ceiling that could have been her home if only she'd been born into this life – or if it really existed at all. Too many theories had rolled around in her head. Too many possibilities, all unlikely if she hadn't seen other worlds and strange happenings herself. And as she slept and woke, new ideas came and they all lost or gained favour, fluctuated until she couldn't decide which scenario seemed most likely after all.

And her situation was bizarre – but it also hurt, being so close to her father but him being so different – because he had a human body and could talk but was something she couldn't seem to adjust to. The fact that he had gone back in time and watched his future diverge along a new path was just as strange – because where did that leave her and the world they'd spent so many winters in together, waiting for the everlasting snow to melt?

The Two Bays
Chapter 6

Night came slowly, like the final bell on a day he couldn't wait to leave. Except his school years were far behind him and his happy life was something he never wanted to lose, or leave behind. But the Ushio from the other world plagued his mind even as she slept behind that door, and not even the bubbly energy from the Ushio of this world or Nagisa's sweet smile and gentle touch were enough to drive away the fear that crept back.

How long had he spent, those first few years, afraid the dream he lived would vanish into smoke before his eyes? And now, lying on his bed beside his sleeping wife, those fears returned stronger than ever. Nagisa was curled up beside him: his grounding force, even now. For ever and ever – and not for the first time he thought about how different his life was now, with the only difference being her by his side.

No, that wasn't right. Last Christmas Ushio had outlived her first self, showing no signs of the sickness that had claimed her in that other world. Their happy family had lasted beyond its predestined time, and he'd relaxed a little once winter ended and spring's bud came into bloom. He'd relaxed…only for the girl from the other world to suddenly appear before him and shake him to his core.

He'd done a good job pretending for those past five years. He'd been able to fool everyone around him – even himself, and even Nagisa. Both of them knew there was something there, behind his eyes as he looked at them and his life. Sometimes he commented, or Nagisa asked – and then he called it a nightmare, or a dream…and, at some point, he'd convinced himself that past life of his really had been a dream.

Most of him wished he could have continued living in those delusions forever, but what that time had also taught him was that it was impossible. He'd spent almost five years drowning himself: five years with Ushio staying with Sanae and Akio and himself with alcohol and cigarettes and gambling and work – anything that could pass the time in a mindless haze. But no matter how hard he'd tried, that stabbing cold pain couldn't be drowned out of his heart nor his memories. They faded somewhat, with time: dulled like how he'd tried to drown them before, but only with their presence and love.

Now he lay in bed waiting for those nightmares to begin again. He kept his eyes open; part of him remembered the taste of alcohol on his tongue and wished he could buy a bottle to drown himself in – but it wasn't worth leaving Nagisa's company to do, and that had been in another time. Instead he just stared at the ceiling, feeling his eyes burn and his thoughts swirl in a confused jumble. The ceiling darkened above him. Nagisa's soft breathing faded away, and the sound of wind howling, snow falling and people screaming and crying replaced them.

At some point in the night, he jerked himself up and out of that dream, breathing hard. Nagisa was the first thing he looked for, and found: curled under the blankets, his right hand between both of hers. He held her as close as he dared without waking her, feeling the goosebumps on his cold skin and the warm smooth texture of hers.

And when his hammering heart was a little quieter and his skin had pushed away the feeling of a snow-clad prison, he slipped out of bed. His daughter's room right next to theirs: it was something they'd both agreed on, both being paranoid about. Too many people had told them, back then when Nagisa was pregnant, that she wouldn't carry the baby to term: that Ushio wouldn't survive. But she'd done it, in both worlds.

He stood outside her room, pretending he could hear the sound of her breathing through the door. That she would not be there was completely irrational: he knew that, especially since Nagisa's presence proved which world was the nightmare he'd woken from. But it was the same every time he dreamt about the other world: about that cold and lonely snow-drift that had buried his wife and only child.

And even in this world, where Nagisa had lived through the birth and their daughter had been a healthy bundle of joy, they had no other children.

If Ushio had been younger still: the baby he'd carried against his chest for so long, he'd have opened the door and peeked in. But Ushio was growing up, and even with uncertainly behind his eyes he could see she needed room to continue growing. No matter how he clung to his own fears, he couldn't let that hold her back – hold her back from what she hadn't been able to achieve in that first world.

He couldn't hear a thing through the door. Maybe if Ushio had been a snorer like Sunohara, he'd have managed it, or young enough to need the door open and a lamp on in the hall if she needed to go to the bathroom and was scared of the dark – but even when she'd had the night-light she hadn't needed it for very long. She was the sort who was going to be strong and independent and move away from home before he'd had enough time with her.

He hadn't even started to prepare himself for the day he'd lose her all over again.

He shook his head: if he started crying there, he'd wake Ushio and perhaps Nagisa and the Ushio from the other world as well. And it would be just that much harder to wake with a smile on his face and go on with things like last time. He rested a hand on the door and leaned in to it; it had barely been a few hours since he'd seen the Ushio from the other world, but already he was falling apart. He should have been happy she'd survived, and escaped that horrible world. He should have been ecstatic, because she was his daughter.

But family, blood – all of that faded into confusion in the face of reality and the worlds from dreams, and this happy life he lived now – even after the five years he'd had he didn't want it to evaporate. He never wanted it to evaporate.

A few tears slipped down his cheeks. He couldn't stop them; instead he just let them fall, then rubbed them away. A door creaked behind him, and he held his breath. Was it Nagisa, opening her eyes to find he wasn't in bed? Or was it the girl from the other world?

He turned, slowly, when no footsteps approached. The doors of both the bedroom he shared with Nagisa and the guest bedroom were closed, and even as he waited with baited breath none of them opened up. He sighed; he'd been paranoid since long ago, when his father would come home drunk, but it was worse when he couldn't convince himself that other world had been a dream, that he hadn't lost his wife and daughter to the same, unnamed, sickness.

He sighed again, then went to the kitchen for some coffee. With a reminder sleeping far too close, he needed something to keep him awake. And it didn't take long for him to make. While Nagisa did almost all the cooking, he was a good cook himself. He had to be, to have something home made to eat through high school, and to feed Ushio in that first world. It was less practical now: very rarely did Nagisa leave the pair of them alone and when she did, it was usually to visit the Furukawa bakery and they'd always send bread to compensate. Still, Tomoya liked to cool occasionally: to give his wife a break, to do something romantic once in a while, because they were having a lot of guests over and even Nagisa, who could own her own restaurant if she wanted, couldn't handle all that in a reasonable amount of time.

Kyou was probably the only one who joked about his inability to cook – regardless of whether he could or not. But the coffee was fine, and he pulled a few biscuits from one of the cupboards to dip in the cup as well. He left the lights off; the moonlight seeping through the windows was fine. It had been fine for most days he had his little midnight snack like a child. They were a rare occurrence after the childbirth Nagisa survived.

And, most times, without meaning to he'd wake Nagisa in the process and she'd be beside him before he finished. He never made coffee for her; she didn't drink it. He'd started taking spare biscuits though. Even if Nagisa didn't drink coffee in itself, she linked dunking biscuits in to his cup.

And, sure enough, she came in her white nightgown falling just past her knees and accepted the biscuit he offered her. She didn't ask; she waited for him instead, offering a hand and an ear…and really, that was all he needed.

But he'd also known that, one day, she'd need her explanation.

'You're acting different today,' she said quietly. 'Why has Ushio's new friend unsettled you so much? It's not the first time she's brought a stranger home.'

Which was true; Ushio had failed to inherit Tomoya's cynical nature. But the reason was something he'd dwelled on far too much and yet still couldn't quite believe. His last biscuit broke and half fell into the coffee. 'I'm a failure – ' he began, and just like that all his shortcomings, past and present, tumbled past his lips.

Nagisa listened, somewhat puzzled but worried and caring all the same. Then she smiled, tenderly, and leaned over to wipe the tears that had started to flow. 'You're not a failure,' she said gently. 'Remember when we got married? The both of us are weak-hearted fools, but neither of us are failures? We have this wonderful life together, don't we? And Ushio: dear darling Ushio…'

But Nagisa didn't know that the girl in the guest bedroom was another Ushio, an Ushio that he had failed – and even now, was running away from, because he didn't know how to face her.