Reagan flopped down on the couch, taking a deep, shuddering breath. The start of a vacation from work was supposed to be a relief. Even for a workaholic like her, she'd thought that a vacation would actually feel good after a few months of finally running Cognito.
But now, she didn't feel any better. Her emotional state had been a series of hills and valleys ever since Project Reboot and her dad and… Ron. Right now it was definitely in a valley. Probably the deepest one yet, or at least it felt like it.
She curled up on the couch, not even bothering to change out of her work clothes. She just wanted to lie there and not think anymore. Everything hurt. Her shoulder still ached from banging it into the wall during a faulty experiment, and it added to the near-constant stress headache she'd had for a few days.
But even beyond the physical, her mind just felt raw. Every direction that she tried to point her thoughts led to pain. Work was stressful. After work was lonely. Even contemplating cleaning the house was just a reminder of what a lazy shit she was for letting it get as bad as it was.
The last time she'd actually tried to clean, she'd put on a playlist to listen to, but soon enough there'd been a song that she hadn't heard since one of her dates with Ron. After that she'd gone completely useless, lying in bed and crying until she finally fell asleep from exhaustion. She wasn't crying now. Not because she didn't feel like it, but because she seemed to have finally dried her ducts out.
Goddamn it. She was thinking of Ron again. No matter how much she tried not to, her thoughts went back to him eventually. She groaned and squeezed her eyes tighter shut, but the painful thoughts came regardless. Ron's absence was the worst ache she'd ever felt, but it was made worse by the guilt. He was happy, and free, and she was a monster to be sad about it.
It was for the best. All of it. Watching those simulations of their life together had confirmed what she'd already known deep down: being with her would have ruined him. Everything she touched rotted and died. She sucked the life out of those who got close to her.
That the main reason she'd been trying to hide her pain from her coworkers. She'd grown closer to them than she'd ever expected, but they had their own problems, like everyone. And they'd already done enough for her in the weeks after Project Reboot. There had to be a limit to how much she could ask of them. From here on, better to keep the pain contained to just her, rather than infect her friends with it too.
She was just lying there, painful thought after painful thought cycling through her aching head, when she heard a soft thump somewhere nearby. Her eyes snapped open and she jumped up from the couch. What shit was getting thrown at her now? For an instant she had the wild idea that her dad was still living with her, meaning that the past year hadn't happened at all, and maybe—
But no, Dad wasn't there. Nobody was. Reagan looked around for the source of the noise until she saw the box on the kitchen table. She went over and looked. It was black, and unmarked. Oh god, Reagan remembered! The… stuff.
Reagan carried the box back into the living room. A package from Black Van Deliveries. So secretive and subtle that they had delivered it right into her kitchen without her noticing or alarms going off. Reagan thought they used teleportation, but she wasn't sure. Either way, it was ultimate discretion. Which was exactly what she'd wanted.
She sat it on the living room table, flopped down on the couch, and just stared at it.
For days, she'd been feeling the same pain as today. Go through the motions at work, come home, and wallow in how shit she was. But, knowing that her vacation was coming up, the small part of her that wasn't emotionally shut down had resolved to try and find a way to change something.
During some time alone at work (which she'd had more and more of lately as she brushed the others off) she'd experimented with a program that could surf the internet and deep web with unprecedented specificity. Eventually, she'd been able to anonymously search the web for others whose emotional states were almost like hers. Not exactly, of course; there weren't many other heads of secret companies with parental issues who had to erase themselves from their true love's minds. But close enough.
She'd looked through the results, searching for anything new to try. But almost everything was either inapplicable, or something she'd heard before. But then, she'd found a small forum thread about unusual coping mechanisms. One poster was laying out a specific list of items and tips, and the other posters were enthusiastically backing up how well they worked.
Reagan had heard vaguely about people doing similar things, but she'd never really understood or given it a lot of thought. But the thread had insisted that it helped them feel a lot better, and it wasn't like the other stuff she'd tried had worked.
So she'd copied a list of items, and had them shipped in utter secrecy via Black Van Deliveries. And, just in time for her vacation, here they were.
Before doing anything else, she pulled out her phone and logged into her home security system. In her estimation, it was one of the best home security systems known to man or woman. Because, of course, she had designed it.
Accessing from her phone, she could see the outside of her house from all sides, including the roof. If anything larger than a bird set foot on her property, she would immediately get an alert.
After setting it up, and of course shutting her curtains (can't let the complex measures make you forget the simple ones), she would be absolutely sure that NOBODY would be close enough see her. She'd also combed the house for bugs, but that had already been a weekly routine that Rand had drilled into her since she was five.
She reached out and touched the side of the box. It wasn't made of cardboard, but whatever it was made of, the top opened up at her touch. Fingerprint-ID packaging.
She pulled the box closer and looked down inside it. They'd packed a lot into the box, but it looked like it was all there. She took a deep breath, then opened the table drawer and took out the list of notes she'd taken from the forum.
"Hmm… start with taking out stuffie and snuggling… tactile stimulation very important…"
She reached into the box and pulled out a little stuffed blue T-rex. Everyone on the forum had preferred a different type of animal, but Reagan had always liked dinosaurs (certain traumatic old birthdays notwithstanding). She held it out with both hands and stared at it. It smiled back at her, its little arms stretched out as if going for a hug, which its large head might make difficult. Still, Reagan gingerly held it close and smelled it. It smelled really nice, actually…
To get herself used to it, she tucked it under one arm and looked back in the box. What next? Something to get lost in, the notes said. Something to take you out of your own mind. She saw the package of adult diapers and gulped. Way way too much, too soon… what else was there?
She pulled out the box of crayons and coloring pages. Now there was something she could get into. Lots of adults colored as a stress-reliever, if her research was correct. That wouldn't be too weird, right?
She laid the crayons and paper out on the table, dino still under her arm. She probably should have changed into something more comfortable before doing this, but what the hell. She was already starting now. She glanced back at the next note, which suggested that she play something in the background. Something bright and happy, like a kid's cartoon. Some background noise to help the atmosphere.
She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, alternating between glancing at the screen and looking down at the coloring pages. After finding a reasonably fun-looking show about blue dogs, she looked back down and settled on a page with an octopus. Holding a different object in each tentacle, the picture obviously wasn't meant for adults but was still fairly complex.
With happy background noise and an art project ready, Reagan opened the crayon box and thought about which color would look best on the octopus. This is okay, she thought as she pulled out some experimental colors and carefully arranged them on the table. This could work. Maybe.
As she set about coloring, she only used one hand, the other arm held in place to keep the stuffie close. She'd never colored much when she was a kid, so it was a little stiff and awkward at first. But the longer she did it, the more natural it felt. She sniffed the head of the T-rex again. Mmm, it smelled so good.
As she colored and listened to the cartoon, a gentle calm started to slip over her brain. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time, but she barely even noticed it at first. She was fully focused on the coloring, but it wasn't the laser-pointed frenzy of concentration that she had with work projects. It was the feeling of releasing tension, not building it.
Without even realizing it, she began nibbling on the thumb of her non-coloring hand. As a kid she'd sucked her thumb even less than she'd colored; her dad had given her doses of psycho-chemicals that had suppressed that urge (and made her a little afraid of her thumb until she was seven). But now it seemed the suppressed urges had returned. It took her a minute to even notice, and by the time she did she was so un-bothered by anything that she didn't even make herself stop. It felt a little good.
Just as she was finishing the octopus's left side, she shifted and felt herself sit on something. The cartoon went off, the screen went black. She was confused for a moment before realizing that the remote must have fallen on the couch; that was what she'd sat on. She put down the crayon to reach for it, but then she paused.
Now that the TV was dark, the screen was reflective. Reagan had looked over and seen herself. Caught unawares, it was like a spell was broken. She had seen a grown woman sitting there with a stuffed animal, sucking her thumb and coloring. She cringed. Nobody was around, but she still felt sudden self-consciousness.
Mortified, she put everything down and stood up from the couch. A part of her brain was begging to go on, to try and get back to that peaceful feeling. But she was too embarrassed. She pushed the desire into the furthest back closet of her mind. She was used to doing that.
She went to go take a pill and lie down. The stress headache was back. She'd deal with all the stuff in the living room later. She wasn't going to think about it now.
One day later, Brett stood back and looked around his bedroom in satisfaction. There. He was finished. After getting home from work, he had completely rearranged everything in his house to be the exact reverse of how it had been arranged before. Time well spent. He felt much better.
…nah, you know what? Giving it a second look, he wasn't sure. He figured that he'd probably better go ahead and move it all back. Oh well! The more he did it, the faster he got at it.
He checked his phone and noticed the "Missed Call, Unheard Message" notifications (he'd had it on silent for full furniture-moving concentration). It was from Reagan! He smiled. He'd been missing his best friend, even if this was only her first day on vacation. He eagerly played the message.
"Hey, Brett, it's Reagan, I…I feel weird." (A shuddering breath.) "I think I'm getting… emotionally… compromised… I don't… it's a long story but I'm here alone and I'm scared and… can you please come over? I'm sorry, I just… I'm scared… don't want to be alone…"
The message ended. Brett dropped everything (literally, he had several of his things scooped up in the other arm) and ran to his car.
Beneath the setting sun, Brett raced through the streets toward Reagan's house. His mind was racing, too, with anything and everything that could be wrong. Was she under attack? From what? Rogue reptoids? Terrorists? Dogs with thumbs, rising to overtake humanity? Oh, if it was dogs with thumbs then it would be all his fault and he would never forgive himself—
By the time he got to Reagan's house, it was almost dark. From the outside, everything appeared to be normal, though he didn't see any lights on. Brett jumped out of the car and ran to the front door. He knocked. No answer.
He used the spare key Reagan had given him to get inside. The lights were all off. He crept from the front door into the living room. Seeing nothing at first, he started to make his way to the kitchen. Then he noticed a trembling lump of blankets on the couch. A small whimper was coming from it. Brett stepped towards it. "…Reagan?"
Reagan threw off the blanket she'd been wrapped in and ran over to him, clutching something under one arm. When she reached him she dropped the something on the floor and threw both arms around him. Her cry of "Brett!" came out like a relieved sob.
"Whoa, whoa, hey, hey!" Brett said, but he hugged her back for a second before gently pulling away. "I got your message, Reagan, what's wrong?"
Reagan looked up at him. Her eyes were big and anxious, with the beginnings of tears welling up. "I was here by myself and it got dark and I got scared and it's all dark and I think there might be things and it's dark!" she let out in a rapid-fire wail.
Brett blinked "Uh, okay! What do you think is here?"
Reagan, seeming to suddenly remember that she had dropped something, reached down and picked it up. It looked like a stuffed dinosaur. She clutched it to her chest and said "I don't know… but there's so much dark… it's scary…"
Her voice was soft, and low. Far from her usual assertive tone. Brett really didn't know what was going on, but he did know that Reagan was upset, and that was the first priority. He looked around and said "Well… maybe it would help if we turned on some lights?"
Reagan nodded with an "Mmm-hmm", then lowered her face to nuzzle her mouth and nose against the head of the dinosaur. It was such a childlike motion that it both caught Brett off guard and made him want to give her another hug. Instead, he walked over and flipped the switch. The room flooded with light, and Reagan breathed a sigh of relief.
Brett turned back to her. "That's better, huh? So, did you actually see or hear anything scary?"
Reagan shook her head. "Guess not… it was just dark…"
"Okay. Sooo how about we go around and turn on every light in the house, and then see how we feel?"
For the first time since Brett had gotten there, Reagan smiled a little bit. "Okay. Thanks Brett."
Despite his confusion, Brett smiled back. "Anything for you, bud."
Reagan's eyes went wide. "Oh!" She hurried over to the coffee table and picked up a small piece of paper. She gave it to Brett. "For you!"
Brett unfolded the paper and read it.
Brett-
Something coming over me. Long story. Don't think permanent. Plz stay night. Srry. Thank u
Hmm. So whatever had come over Reagan, she had seen it coming. And it must have been serious, because Reagan never used text speak, especially when writing. And it must have happened even as she wrote the note, because the handwriting got more sloppy and childish with each word.
But now Brett at least knew what his friend needed. He would stay the night, and hopefully be able to figure everything out tomorrow morning.
He looked back up at Reagan, who was petting her dinosaur and staring at him. He folded the note back up and put it in his pocket. "C'mon, let's light this pop stand!"
Reagan gave the tiniest of giggles and followed him as he walked around the house, turning on all the lights. Once they got upstairs to Reagan's bedroom, Brett turned the light on and looked back at her. "There! All the lights are on."
Reagan nodded, but she looked a little nervous again. She glanced around her room. It took Brett a minute to figure out what was on her mind, because it was so unlike anything he would expect from her, but he got there eventually. "Do, uh, you think we might need a little further inspection in here?"
Reagan just stared back at him. Brett walked over and opened the door to her closet. "Anything scary in here?"
After making sure Reagan saw him give it a thorough look-around, he went over and looked under her bed.
"How 'bout under here? Any monster guys?" He used his phone as a flashlight to flash into the dark spot, just in case. Then, with a satisfied nod, he stood up and went back to Reagan.
"Well, this room has officially passed the Brett Hand Safety Inspection! Completely monster-free."
Reagan smiled and whispered "Thanks."
She didn't say anything else. Brett, not sure of where to go from here, cleared his throat. "So, uh… now that that's taken care of, do you still want me to stay, or do you want me to leave—"
"NO!" She threw her arms around him again, holding on for dear life. "Okay, okay, don't worry!" he gasped as her squeezing hindered his breath. "I'm not going anywhere. But I still need to breathe!"
Reagan reluctantly let go of him. Brett thought about how to proceed.
"Well, since I'm staying, do you still feel scared?"
She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Huh-uh."
"Okay, that's good! If you're not feeling scared, how are you feeling?"
Reagan thought again, but before she could answer, her stomach answered for her. They both heard it grumble.
Brett chuckled. "Ok, sounds you're hungry?"
Reagan, blushing a little, smiled and nodded again.
"Okey doke! Let's find you something to eat."
A few minutes later, Reagan was sitting at the table while Brett busied himself by making a dent in the living room's accumulated junk. Thankfully, he had found a package of microwave mac-and-cheese as a quick fix for Reagan's grumbling tummy.
As Brett tossed a couple of empty bottles into the trash, he heard a little "Ow!"
He looked over to see Reagan rubbing her cheek, looking like she'd just poked it with her fork. Apparently, her aim with the fork was currently less than stellar; she also had some cheese sauce smeared around her lips.
"Oop!" Brett hurried over and took a closer look to make sure she wasn't bleeding or anything. "You okay?"
Reagan nodded, and glared at the fork like it had hurt her on purpose. But she didn't seem to have any marks on her cheek or anything, so it must have just been a light poke.
Brett looked down at the bowl. "Well, uh, it looks like you were almost finished anyway. Are you still hungry?"
Reagan shrugged. "Nuh-uh."
"Okay! But it looks like it got a little messy there. Maybe a shower would help?"
A shower would also probably help the BO that Brett had just noticed, but he didn't say that part out loud. Poor thing, cowering under that blanket on such a warm day. He probably wouldn't smell much better after doing that.
He took her hand and guided her from the chair and towards the stairs. She still seemed a little unsure, so he said "How about you go in the bathroom and get ready while I go get some clothes, then I'll slip them in to you?"
"Okay," she said, almost too quietly to hear.
"Great! What drawer do you keep your jammies in?"
She thought for a second as they walked up the stairs. "…I 'unno."
He chuckled. "Okay, no biggie, I'll figure it out."
They got to the bathroom, and Brett let go of Reagan's hand. "Be right back, 'kay?" He ushered her in and shut the door behind her. Then he went to her bedroom.
As he'd suspected, her dresser drawers were a disorganized mess. He had to quickly shuffle through a couple, cringing whenever he saw a bra, until he found a t-shirt and shorts that looked comfortable and pajama-ish. After fumbling around while only looking with one eye, he found some panties, and then took the bundle of clothes to the bathroom.
He knocked on the door. "Reagan, buddy? Can I come in? Or should I slide these under the door?"
The only response was a small whimper. Frowning in worry, Brett said "I'm gonna come in, ok?"
He waited, with no response, so he opened the door. Reagan was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. One of her arms was out of the sleeve of her shirt, but that was as far as she'd gotten. Her pants were bunched up around her legs.
"Oh!" Brett raised his head in an attempt to keep Reagan's face in sight without having to see her in her underwear. It probably looked pretty weird, but Reagan didn't seem to notice.
"Uh… you need some help, Reagan?"
She sniffled and nodded.
"Um… okay… just give me a second to think, bud…"
Brett wasn't sure what to do. On the one hand, his friend was asking for him to help. On the other hand, Reagan was obviously not in a normal state of mind. When she was back to normal, would she remember Brett helping with her clothes as something she didn't really want? Not that he would ever take advantage of her, but right now could she really consent to him helping her in such an intimate way? But what else could he do?
Then he had an idea. It was all he could think of, but he knew he'd have to be delicate.
"Hey, Ray… I have an idea. I think it might make you feel a little better if you have a girl help you with… stuff like this. Like a friend girl. Does that sound right?"
Reagan nodded slowly.
"So, what if I call a friend, and if she wants to, she can come over and help us out? I can get your little dino friend to hang out while you wait."
Reagan looked uncertain. Brett smiled and took a tiny step towards her, losing the sense of awkwardness and lowering his face. "Don't worry, Ray-ray, I'm not going anywhere. We'll all be here together, nice and cozy, and everything will be okay. It'll all be good. I promise."
Wow, he was surprising himself. He wasn't sure where this skill at reassurance was coming from, but it seemed to be working. Reagan was already looking less worried.
"Okay," he said, giving her a thumbs up. "I'm gonna go get your buddy, and then I'm gonna make a call. Sit tight!"
He ran down to get the stuff dinosaur from where Reagan had left it in the living room. After bringing it up to her, he got out his cell phone.
A little while later, Brett heard a knock on the front door and ran down from his spot outside the bathroom.
He threw the door open. "Hi! Boy, am I glad to see you."
Gigi narrowed her eyes at him. "Brett. You said this was an emergency. Said to hurry. So I rush over here, like this, and the house does NOT look like it's on fire. You had better have a REALLY good reason."
By "like this", she presumably meant the very fashionable and expensive-looking robe and nightgown she was wearing.
"Oh, I have a great reason… it's just a little hard to explain." Brett let her in. Gigi came in and immediately sat on the couch. "You're damn lucky you're so pretty, boy."
Brett laughed nervously. "Uh, yep. Anyway! I got this voicemail earlier…"
He told Gigi the whole story, and showed her the note Reagan had left. Her eyes got wider and wider as he went. When he finished, she said "…And you're completely serious with all this, honey?"
"Yes," said Brett. He looked Gigi straight in the eyes, and his tone was a seriousness that was very rare to see in him. "Gigi, I don't know exactly what's going on, but I know that Reagan is really delicate right now. So you're either in this, or you're not, but you can't do ANYTHING to make her feel bad. Okay?"
Gigi was stunned. She nodded, eyes still wide. "Yeah, I get you. I promise."
"Whew! Alright, good." Brett's face relaxed in relief, the sternness disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
"So… Reagan's up there right now, and I was hoping you might be okay with going up and giving her a hand? Since you're a girl and all, she might be more comfortable."
Gigi took a slow breath, and then said "Okay Brett, if you SWEAR you're not pulling one on me, I'll do my best."
"Great!" Brett was looking more relieved by the second. He and Gigi went upstairs to the closed bathroom door.
Brett knocked on it. "Reagan? Gigi dropped by, you good if she comes in?"
There was a moment of silence, and then a small "Uh-huh."
Brett looked at Gigi. "Okay, soooo I will be right out here if you need anything."
Gigi opened the door and poked her head in. She saw Reagan sitting on the toilet, clothes half off, holding a little stuffed T-rex to her chest and nibbling the tips of her fingers. Their eyes met.
Of all things, it was the eyes that took Gigi by surprise the most. The unfortunate dark circles were still there, of course, but the eyes themselves… they were so open and vulnerable. So different from the calculating and aggressive look that Gigi was used to seeing on her girl.
In the awkwardness, it occurred to Gigi that she should probably smile. So she did, flashing Reagan her patented billion-watt-grin. "Hey, girl! Brett said you weren't feeling like yourself tonight."
Reagan shrugged and hugged her dino tighter.
Gigi stepped fully into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. "Well, hon, you know what always makes me feel better? A nice long bubble soak. You got anything for that?"
Reagan still looked shy, so Gigi stepped to the tub and peeked into it. Good, there was some bubble bath next to the shampoo. Reagan wasn't COMPLETELY neglecting herself. Of course, Reagan's tub wasn't as big or elegant as Gigi's, but it would do.
Gigi turned back to Reagan and said "How about I get it running, then we get you into the tub and you'll be soaking like a queen."
Reagan, for the first time that Gigi had seen tonight, gave a little smile. "Okay."
Something about it made Gigi's own smile feel less fake than it had a moment ago. "You got it, hun."
She started to run the water and add the bubble formula. As the tub filled, she walked back over to stand by Reagan, who was finally loosening her grip on the dinosaur. Gigi reached out her hand. "Okay, baby, if you want a bath then you gotta get your clothes off and put up your little friend there. Don't worry, he'll be safe until you're done."
Reagan reluctantly handed her dinosaur to Gigi, who set him on the sink counter.
Damn, she was really impressed with herself. Well, that wasn't too unusual, but this time she had no idea where it was coming from. She did NOT consider herself maternal in any way, but seeing Reagan like this had awakened some kind of caring instinct that she hadn't been aware of.
"Now, honey, you want me to help you get those clothes off, or you want me to look away?"
Reagan looked down at her clothes, and then back at Gigi. "Help?" she said, in the smallest of voices.
Gigi took a hold of the arm that was still in the sleeve, guiding it out. With both arms free, she gently pulled the shirt off over Reagan's head. Then she unstrapped Reagan's bra and delicately pulled it off.
As she tossed the shirt and bra into the hamper, Reagan looked down at her chest and blushed. Some part of her seemed to still remember that it was embarrassing to be uncovered.
Gigi smiled and patted her shoulder. "It's alright, honey. It's just us girls." She knelt down and pulled the fallen pants from around Reagan's feet. Then—
"Good if I get rid of these panties, too?"
Reagan, still blushing, nodded. Gigi said "Okay, baby, you gotta stand up though."
Looking uncertain, Reagan wobbled to her feet even before Gigi had a chance to help her up. "That's my girl," Gigi murmured before pulling down Reagan's underwear and gently lifting her feet out of the holes.
Now that Reagan was fully naked, she shivered. Gigi stood back up and said "Ooh, girl, time to get you in the tub!" She took Reagan's hand and walked her over to the tub. Reagan tenderly stuck a toe in the water. Seeming to find it comfortable, she put the full foot in and staggered herself down into the water with Gigi's help.
Reagan sank into the bubbles up to her neck as Gigi turned the faucet off. She closed her eyes and sighed. Gigi grinned and shook her head. "What'd I tell you? Nothing like a bubble bath."
Reagan looked over at her and smiled. She sunk into the water up to her nose, covering her chin and mouth with bubbles. Gigi smiled and shook her head. As Reagan's hair soaked in the water, Gigi had to fight the urge to grab it and brush the ever-living hell out of it. There were so many tangles, it was like if Tim Burton and Johnny Depp had gone into wig design together. But she resisted. Didn't want to push too far.
There were a couple minutes of silence as Reagan made little splashes and pushed the bubbles around. Gigi had left her phone downstairs, but oddly enough she didn't mind. There was something soothing about just watching Reagan play in the water. She seemed so carefree, the total opposite of her usual demeanor.
The truth was, Gigi worried about Reagan more than she would ever voice. She wasn't like Brett. She wasn't comfortable expressing how much she really cared. But seeing Reagan so relaxed and happy was a relief that she didn't even know she'd needed.
After a few more minutes, Reagan looked at her hand in the water and giggled. Gigi had never heard that sound from Reagan before, but it was weirdly wholesome. Reagan held up her fingers and grinned at Gigi. "Look!"
Each finger was prune-like from the water. Nothing unusual, but Reagan's gleeful fascination was infectious. Gigi chuckled too. "You know, usually I am NOT fan of wrinkles. But ones like these can be pretty fun."
Reagan, still smiling, had another shy spell and submerged herself up to her nose again.
Gigi gave it another minute and then said "Okay, honey, we better get you out of there you turn into a giant raisin."
Reagan whined in protest, but still grinned from the mental image. Gigi stood up and grabbed a towel. She helped Reagan out of the tub and wrapped her up.
Reagan shivered, and the sight was so pitiful that Gigi grabbed the nightwear Brett had left and helped Reagan into it as fast as she could. Reagan fidgeted impatiently throughout the process, and as soon as she was dressed she darted over and snatched up her little dino friend again. Cradling it with one arm, she surprised Gigi by hugging her tight with the other arm. "Thanks Gigi," she whispered, shyly looking at the floor.
Gigi felt her heart melt a little. "My pleasure, girl." Without thinking, she gave Reagan an instinctive kiss on the forehead. Jesus, she was getting really deep into this.
After Gigi let the tub drain, she escorted Reagan out into the hallway. There they found Brett leaning against the wall and playing around on his phone. He looked up and grinned. "Hey, there are my gal pals! Feeling better, Reags?"
Reagan nodded. "Yeah!" It was the most energetic she'd sounded all evening. Gigi and Brett shared secret looks of relief. Things seemed like they were okay.
Brett glanced at his phone again. "Looks like it's getting pretty late. Maybe it's time to get some sleep?"
Reagan's smile fell and she started pouting. The sight broke Brett's heart. "Aw, buddy, you gotta sleep! You've had a taxing day. Uh— uh—"
He glanced at Gigi for help. She just shrugged. His thoughts raced.
"Oh, I know! What if we read a story before bed? Something nice and lulling!"
Reagan looked hesitant, then she smiled. Brett sighed in relief. "Great! You go get snuggled up in bed and I'll go find a book. You've gotta have a nice bedtime book SOMEWHERE in the house."
He started to head down the stairs. Gigi called after him "You know you can just find something on your phone?"
Not looking back, he waved his hand dismissively. "All my research into happy childhoods has taught me that actual books are the best thing."
Downstairs, he scanned Reagan's bookshelf. "Hmm, not much here that seems very good for sweet dreams." It was mostly books about technology and science-y stuff. Hmm, there was a guide to 1980s pop culture… a couple cookbooks that were so untouched they still had the price stickers on them… some stuff by Carl Sagan… there were a few books that were turned around to hide their spines, but they were just steamy-looking romance novels.
A few books on the shelf below caught his eye. "Comics! Might be something there." He started to look through them. But they were less "superheroes and funny animals" and more "artistic graphic novels with dark abstract covers".
But wait, one cover had animals! He pulled it out and looked at it. "Maus". He wasn't sure about the spelling, but it looked like it was full of cute mice! He opened it and flipped through the pages.
"Wow, that's upsetting."
He gulped, shut the book and put it back on the shelf. Not what he was looking for after all.
But then, something else caught his eye. He pulled it off the shelf. Yes, he could work with this!
Upstairs, he found Reagan and Gigi in the bedroom. Reagan was lying in the bed, snuggling the dino and covered in blankets up to her chest, while Gigi leaned against the wall. Reagan saw Brett come in and sat up in excitement.
Brett came and sat down on the bed, book under his arm. "Sorry it took me so long, but I think I found a good bedtime story!"
He held up the book. It was titled Big Bricks: A History of Large-Scale Adult Lego Projects.
"It's a story about Legos! We like Legos… right?"
Reagan beamed and nodded. "Yeah!"
Gigi cleared her throat. "Uh, Brett, that's not—"
"Shhh! Just go with it."
Gigi shrugged and piped down.
Brett opened the book. Reagan scooted over so she could look over his shoulder.
Brett flipped through the first couple pages until he came to the first illustration, a picture of several collectible minifigures.
"Okay, so, this is a story about some Lego guys! They were all friends, and one day they—"
He frantically flipped to the next picture.
"—went to explore the Lego Empire State Building! 'Oh gee, this sure is fun!' they all said."
He made sure to do a funny high-pitched voice for when the Lego guys were talking. He found the next illustration.
"But then, they saw that one of those big walking tanks from Star Wars was stomping all over the city! They knew they had to stop it!"
And so it continued, with Brett incorporating every build the book showed into the "story". It was nonsensical and random, but Reagan seemed to find it engrossing enough. Eventually, they got to the last page.
"And so, now that they'd saved the day, the Lego guys and zoo animals and former presidents all went and had a big party at the scale model Palace of Versailles! And they lived happily ever after. The end."
Brett closed the book. "Phew! That was quite a story. But they lived happily ever after, and that's what it's all about, right?"
Reagan smiled and started to agree, but it was interrupted by a big yawn. Brett and Gigi, who had sat down on the other side of the bed, chuckled. Brett said "Looks like the story did its job. You ready for some shuteye, Reags?"
Reagan shrugged. "Okay." Even her little voice was drowsy. She lay down as Brett pulled the covers up to her chin.
"There we go, snug as a bug in a rug! You warm enough?"
She yawned again. "Uh-huh."
"Great," Brett said as he and Gigi started to head towards the door. "You want us to leave the hallway light on and the door open?"
Reagan pulled the sheets higher, up over her nose. "Mm-hmm."
"Okey-dokey." Brett flipped the bedroom light off. "Goodnight, bud."
As he and Gigi were about to leave the room, Reagan mumbled something from under the sheets.
They looked back at her. "What was that, hon?" Gigi asked.
Reagan pushed the sheets off her face and repeated it. "Love you Brett. Love you Gigi."
They both glanced at each other and turned a little red, but Brett hardly missed a beat. "We love you too, Rey-rey."
She sighed and closed her eyes. Brett and Gigi crept out of the room and downstairs. They both flopped down on the couch. For a moment, they didn't say anything; they just sat and thought. Eventually Brett said "Well, this sure is something."
Gigi nodded. "You said it, baby."
Brett sat up and cracked his knuckles. "Well, hopefully she'll be okay after a good night's rest. I promised I'd stay the night, just in case, but you can go ahead. I'm sure you're ready to get back home."
Gigi shrugged. "That does sound nice. Tonight has been ten straight kinds of wild. But… I don't know. I'm actually worried about her, and even stronger than the normal 'Girl, you're a hot mess' kind of way."
She leaned a little closer to Brett. "Now don't you tell anyone, but it's like my caring gene is starting to show signs of life."
Brett chuckled. "So you're staying?"
Gigi glanced around. "I guess so. At least totally redesigning this whole place in my head will pass the time while I'm here."
"Right." Brett stood up. "So…"
Gigi stood up too. "Let me guess, baby, you were just about to be a gentleman and let me sleep on the couch while you take the floor?"
"Uh, actually yes. I like sleeping on wood floors, they just feel more dependable than a mattress sometimes. Like they've… ha ha, like they've got my back. Pun ABSOLUTELY intended."
Gigi rolled her eyes. "Maybe I will leave."
Brett yawned. "I don't know about you, but this whole thing has got me worn out too. I'm turning in. 'Night, Jeej!" And he immediately flopped down onto the carpet and closed his eyes.
Gigi took the blanket off the back of the couch and curled up under it. And soon everyone in the house was asleep.
Reagan was floating in the blurry limbo halfway between dream and waking. She could feel her mind drifting, able to go down one murky path or another, and she pushed her mind one way even if she couldn't fully form reasoning for her choice—
Reagan opened her eyes. She was lying in bed. She could see sunlight coming from her window, so she must have woken later than usual. She began to panic about work, until she remembered that she was on vacation. Right, her vacation had started yesterday.
Yesterday… what had happened yesterday?
She remembered the morning pretty well, but past noon things got blurrier and blurrier. Like she had gotten really drunk, though she was pretty sure she hadn't. She didn't feel hungover, anyway.
Actually, she felt really nice. Really relaxed and well-rested. She must have gotten a good night's sleep for the first time in forever.
But what HAD happened yesterday? She lay there, thinking it through. She had gotten up later, and then found stuff for a makeshift brunch, and then… then…
Suddenly she remembered the box that had arrived the day before yesterday. The regression stuff. When it had arrived, it had started to work, but then she'd psyched herself out.
And then the rest started to come back, because yesterday she had felt herself starting to regress again, deeper, and involuntarily. She had felt it happening, and she'd called Brett, and written the note.
And Brett had come. She didn't remember the details, but she remembered his presence. Him and someone else. Gigi? Gigi!
Reagan felt her heart drop to her stomach. She still couldn't recall the exact events, but images were flashing in her mind. She got a strong one of lying in bed while Brett and Gigi sat there and read something to her. Oh god, what kind of twisted mommy-daddy-issues shit had she sucked them into? Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuckfuckfuckshit—!
She took a deep breath and sat up. There was a sudden cold at her waist. She threw off the covers. God fucking damnit. As if things weren't bad enough, as if she didn't want to shrivel up and die enough, she had wet the bed in her sleep. Had she even done that when she was little? She couldn't remember.
She got up and grabbed some clothes out of her dresser for a quick change. As she did so she noticed the blue dinosaur from the box on the floor; it looked like it had rolled off the bed. Had she been sleeping with it? What the hell was wrong with her?
She was about to grab the sheets, when she heard something. Voices from downstairs. Oh god! Brett and Gigi were still here.
Reagan's stomach tied itself into knots. How could she face them? What could she possibly say? But what else could she do, just hide up here? She took a few deep breaths, then headed out of her room and down the stairs.
She found them in the kitchen, chatting and sipping from Styrofoam cups. It looked like one of them had just gotten back from a coffee run.
Reagan had approached so quietly that they didn't notice her until she cleared her throat. Then they both looked at her. Brett jumped up so fast that he almost spilled his coffee. "Reagan! Hey! How are you feeling?"
She took a breath. "Uh... normal. I'm back to normal, I think."
Brett's eyes widened. "Oh!" He walked up to her and caught her off guard with a big hug. Before she could think of what to say, he withdrew. "Sorry, I know hugs are still tricky. I'm just glad you're feeling okay."
Gigi came forward and gingerly patted Reagan on the shoulder. "Me too, girl. You gave us a hell of a surprise last night."
Reagan glanced back and forth between her friends before looking at the floor. "Guys, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen, I don't know—"
"Hey hey," said Brett gently. "You don't need to tell us sorry. But if you could tell us what was going on, that'd be pretty cool."
While Reagan paused, trying to figure out where to start, Brett grabbed another cup of coffee and gave it to her. "Here. I got it just in case you'd want one."
Reagan took it and sipped, grateful to have something physical to focus on. After the drink she said "Well, the truth is… there was all this shit going on in my head, and I wanted to try this regression thing, because I'd seen some people online talk about it. And at first it didn't work, but—"
She stopped, and corrected herself. "No, it WAS working… but I freaked and pulled myself out. But then I started to sink into it again, and I didn't mean to. And well… I guess you saw the rest."
She took another sip. "I don't know, I think my brain is already different. Like all that shit my dad did to my head, and all the mental tech in Cognito. So I guess when I tried the regression, the mental combination did something I couldn't predict. Like a chemical reaction, but in my subconscious? God, I don't know, it's all so shitty…"
"Hey," Brett said, "trying to do something to take care of yourself is not shitty, even if it doesn't go like you planned. Last night, when you were regressed, did that feel bad, or did it still feel good?"
Reagan thought. "You know? Actually, last night, it DID feel good. With you guys there, I just remember being relaxed, and happy." She looked sheepish as she admitted this.
Brett smiled. "Well, we enjoyed taking care of our friend. So if you felt good, then no harm, no foul! Right, Gigi?"
Gigi smiled too. "He's right, Reagan. You trying something to help yourself is better than you just suffering, honey."
"I guess." Reagan allowed herself a small smile at their reassurance. "My only worry now is that it will happen again."
"Well…" Brett looked thoughtful. "You think it happened when you didn't expect it because you took yourself out of it the first time. So maybe if you just choose it and let it run its course, then it won't surprise you again?"
Reagan thought too. "I guess that could work, but I don't know if I can."
Brett cleared his throat. "What if you had a friend to help you when you did?"
"Or two?" Gigi added.
Reagan looked at them both again. She could hardly believe they were being so kind.
"I'm not gonna say that doesn't sound good, but guys, listen. I barely understand this, I don't know how long it's going to take to figure out, I don't know all this stuff…"
Brett said "Hey Reags."
He looked her deep in the eyes.
"I can't speak for Gigi, but as your friend I can say that I will be here to figure it out with you as long as you need."
Gigi stepped closer, so the three of them were a tight triangle. "He doesn't need to speak for me, because I'll say it myself. I'll be here for you too, baby."
Reagan tried to keep a solid expression, but inside she just repeated don't cry don't cry don't you goddamn cry. "Guys, I don't know what to say."
Brett chuckled. "Just tell us what we need to do to help you with this."
Reagan took a breath and released a knot of tension that she hadn't even realized she was holding. "I suppose first we should figure out what to do about work."
Gigi waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, girl, we're both due for a vacation too. We'll just go ahead and take it."
"Yeah," said Brett, "I mean, who's going to have a problem with it? The CEO of Cognito?"
At this point Reagan couldn't take it any more, and she grabbed them both and pulled them into a hug and wouldn't let go.
She had plenty to figure out, but she wouldn't have to do it alone. And right now, she wouldn't ask for anything else.