Arc 2 - Chapter 26 - Attaching the Umbilical Cord
White noise. That was the world for a moment. Fizzing, hissing, scratching. Heavy rains on concrete, going on and on until the end of time. A single tone of harmonic discord. The screen flickered, a slit of reality, then static again. It seizured in and out of focus, it struggled for clarity, it fought for something to make sense of. Eventually, it was found.
Someone smacked the box and the noise vanished in an instant. The scene settled.
Night was dark as a closed coffin, and still as the corpse rotting inside. The chirping crickets, the hooting owls, the hiss of passing cars, these things did not pacify the great silence, but rather enhanced it, as if the existence of the moving world and its eager inhabitants were mere ignorances to the unknowable machinations of the cosmos.
In the unremarkable home of an unremarkable family, a little boy shifted in bed and turned on his side, mumbling something in his sleep. He could not have known that he was not alone. That Jaune Arc was standing over his bed, watching him with burning, unblinking eyes.
The voices of the Shards scraped at the inside of Jaune's skull like a rat desperate to escape a cage much too small for it. He stared at the sleeping child, laying on his big bed with the crooked leg, which he somehow knew was caused by someone jumping way too many times on it. Curled under his blanket, the one designed with the Super Warriors yellow ranger, and had an old hot chocolate stain from that really good Christmas. Bare feet poked out the other end, curling and uncurling without pattern, and nothing but the sound of his gentle breathing. That and the Shards' song, of course.
Jaune looked upon the boy with envy - envy of that warmth, that security, that safety. Looked at him with strange hatred - for his naivety, his innocence, his ignorance. This little shit had no idea how the real world worked. He didn't know about pain, or guilt, or loss. He didn't know what it was to sin. But he'd learn one day that no one gets away from reality. That no longer one gets to walk away with clean hands. That no one gets to forget.
Ever.
Beside him, the Eyeless Child stood and watched the boy too, his small hand cold in Jaune's despite how tightly they held each other. The empty pits in the Child's head were like bullet wounds that hadn't healed, the inside flesh melted away, leaving only cold dark tunnels where only the wind whistled through. If it did at all. It was a little confusing that the Child was looking toward anything at all, on account of not being able to see. It kind of didn't make sense, once you gave it some thought. Made Jaune wonder why he needed eyes at all. Oh, but thinking was hard lately. Thinking was hard all the time. Better to stop. Better overall.
There was something off about this situation, though . A couple of things actually. In the first place, he couldn't recall how he'd even gotten here, and that was mightily concerning. Then there was the case of this room, all littered with toys and clothes, trinkets and posters, and all kinds of other things which made him do all this accursed thinking. This place was familiar, and that felt wrong. But why? He had never been to this place before. Or if he had, then it had been a long time since, at least.
The silence was broken suddenly by a crash of thunder and a flickering flash of lightning, luring Jaune to the window. Rain pelted the old glass like a hammer to nails, fogging the glass, washing away the mold and mildew build up in the panes, slipping through the sill as if locking the damn thing wasn't enough to keep it out. Still, rain couldn't hurt you as far as Jaune knew, so the little boy had nothing to fear from it. He was safe. From the rain. There were plenty of other things, much scarier things that he was not safe from.
"Why are we here?" whispered Jaune, talking to no one in particular.
"Waiting," said the Eyeless Child, his only companion, and therefore the only one who could answer him.
"Waiting for what?"
"For [ data not found] to get up, so we can go to the [ data not found ] place."
Jaune pouted. "I'll take you. Just tell me where -"
"You can't. [ data not found ] has to do it."
The Eyeless boy did not say it with anger or command. He said it like it was a simple fact of life. A natura; law which no one could defy even if they wanted to. Jaune certainly wouldn't try with his head as scrambled as it was. Damn but he needed a nap. He joined the Eyeless Boy back beside the bed, and they watched the sleeping boy in silence.
Another crash of thunder, another burst of light, another pattering of the rain. They brought on a question Jaune hadn't thought to ask until now. "Why do you need your eyes?"
The Eyeless Child responded right away. "So that I can see."
"But like, can't you see without them already?"
"No."
"Then how do you know where things are?"
"My big brother says I'm super smart."
What smartness had to do with eyesight Jaune had no idea, but it was still an answer of a kind. "Your big brother?"
"Yup. He's kinda mean. And kinda nice, too."
Jaune had no idea how someone could be both mean and nice, at least not at the same time. "Where is he, then?"
"Somewhere. I dunno. He'll be back, though. He always comes back."
"Can he help us find your eyes?"
The Child adopted a put out face, as if he'd been given a homework assignment he'd been hoping to avoid. "Big brother says I'm not allowed. He says I'm not strong enough to see yet. But I'm super, super tough! I can handle it!"
Jaune felt a strong kinship with that. He liked to think he was pretty tough too. So strong that nothing could bother him or upset him. That's why he pretended as hard as he could that he didn't care about anything. That he needed nothing and no one. But that's the thing about playing pretend. It's just a game. And all games end eventually. "Sounds like he just wants to protect you. Keep you from getting hurt, you know?"
"Why would seeing something hurt me?"
"Maybe it won't hurt you like a papercut or stubbing your toe. You can just put a band-aid on those. Maybe what you see, it hurts you up here," Jaune tapped his forehead, "and in here," then tapped his heart. "Here especially. It's hard to put band-aids on your insides."
"Unless you pull your skin open." said the Eyeless Child optimistically, before thinking a moment and scratching his head, "But then, I guess you hafta put more band-aids on. If there's enough left.."
"We don't have any band-aids, though," said Jaune.
"Then, when we get to the [ data blocked ] place, I'll close one eye so I can only see half way, then I'll only get half hurt."
"You can still see everything with one eye."
The boy's eye sockets narrowed to dark empty slots. "Then, I'll squint!"
Jaune realized then that it was totally pointless to debate with a little kid. He'd promised to help, and he was all about his promises. They sat in silence for a little while longer and it was looking like very little was about to change in their current situation. Then, the door to the sleeping boy's room creaked open, and The Shards voices took on a shrill, high note as if they were welcoming a much anticipated guest.
It was an adult that walked in, a woman. Carrying a flickering candle that cast a pathetically weak light, as if the flame itself was nervous around so much dark. The woman stepped fully inside, wearing little more than a long black gown, half her face hidden in shadows, the other half set alight by the candle flame. She'd looked toward the sleeping boy, at first. Then twitched like she heard something and turned her head to look Jaune right in the face.
She was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And not specifically because of how she looked. Staring at her, it… it gave him a distinct and familiar feeling that he couldn't quite put to words. The Woman wore an expression of restlessness, as she'd been up all night worrying about something terrible, expecting it, even. Her eyes darted about, nervous and twitchy, as if there were enemies all around her at all times, hidden in the shadows, ready to jump out at her at any moment.
Even still, she had that kind of face which made him feel safe and warm. It would all be alright, that was what this woman embodied. And Jaune wanted nothing more than for her to keep looking at him.
But the woman either did not see him there or did see him and did not care. She turned to the sleeping boy, set the candle on the table, then kneeled on the floor to lean over him. The woman touched his cheek, caressed him with her palm like he was her most valued treasure. Jaune had no idea what this woman could want with that stupid little kid. He wasn't worth such love and attention, just sleeping through life without a care, having other people provide for him, ruining the lives of everyone around him with his foolish actions. It took a good deal of strength not to pull them apart.
Regardless of his opinion, The Woman stayed kneeled by the boy's bedside for a while as the rain and thunder went on, as Jaune and the Eyeless Child watched, as the Shards sang over and over. Eventually, she began stirring the boy awake, whispering, "Jaune? Wake up, honey."
The boy shifted, mumbled, but eventually opened his eyes, blinking at the woman with confusion. "[ data unavailable ]?"
The woman put a finger to her lip, looked around for a moment, then whispered in the boy's ear. "Get dressed, alright? Wear that new shirt I got you. "
The boy's confusion had not faded, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere fun, I promise."
"Is dad coming?"
The Woman paused for a long moment. "Daddy's asleep. He's got a long day of work in the morning. Let's not bother him." She gently eased him out of bed, then ushered him toward his dresser. "Hurry, baby. We have to get going."
The boy looked back at her, looking worried, but the woman smiled reassuringly. Wordless, he ambled off to do as he was told.
It was only after he was done, and the woman took his hand and led him out, that the Eyeless Child made haste to follow. "Come on, we're going too!"
Jaune did not bother to argue and went after him. It was dark out in the hall, and the weak candlelight helped little in that regard. He could still make out the wooden walls of the hallway, though. All coated in old paint of a thousand colors, dashed and splotched at random, pocked with footprints and handprints, bad drawings and good. A few doors were there too, and Jaune read the name on one at the far end just before the stairs, painted dark blue. Reading 'Saphron.'
They followed the Woman and the Boy downstairs, the latter asking some questions and the woman answering or whispering for him to keep quiet so no one would wake. They were at another door before long and there was a pause, the woman had turned to look behind her, directly at Jaune again. Her face the picture of cold-sweated worry, uncertain fear, quite as if there was a monster following them. Surely, it couldn't be him. Jaune liked to think he was pretty nice most of the time. It was that boy holding her hand that was the real monster, even if he wasn't sure why.
The boy tugged at her dress. "What's wrong, Mommy?"
A section of Jaune's brain swelled and thumped against the inside of his skull, like the lurch of a startled heart. He heard the bone crack. Mommy? No, that… that didn't sound right. This woman couldn't possibly be this child's Woman. It didn't make any sense. No, she had to be someone else's Woman. Someone who deserved her. Like Jaune himself. He needed a mom. He needed his mom. He had one, right? Jaune began to breathe fast, his skin was cold yet clammy, his mind was overloading. Where was she? Where was his Mom?
Jaune's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he opened his mouth, a scream awaiting freedom at the back of his throat.
Someone pressed STOP on the video player, putting the sequence in temporary suspension, static hissing at the fringes. They pressed REWIND, and the world obeyed without question. Back, back, back it went, until the world was settled with a rattling click, and a whirring hum. Time resumed. The world corrected its mistake.
The boy tugged at her dress. "What's wrong, [ data missing ]?"
The Woman pulled the front door open and pulled him along. "Nothing, baby. Nothing."
They stepped out into the rain and Jaune followed. Hurried on toward a car in a long driveway, the Eyeless Child made haste getting to it, the rain battering them all. The woman pulled the backseat door open and ushered her boy inside., giving the Eyeless Child the chance to crawl in after. She scrambled off to the driver's seat, and Jaune took that chance to situate himself in the passenger's seat, a spot that, like that room, was oddly familiar.
The woman had grown a little more panicked, her shaky hands fumbling with the keys like she was in a hurry to get somewhere, or to get away from somewhere. Jaune looked into the back seats, where the two children sat in quiet anticipation. The Boy watched the Woman with unmistakable concern, but seemed too confused to say anything. Jaune couldn't help but pity him a little. The Eyeless Child did not look surprised by any of this, just empty and attentive like this was a movie he'd seen play out a hundred times. Or well, maybe not seen exactly. Was strangely intuitive to, he supposed. As if he'd been through it all himself before.
Finally, the Woman got her car on and running, and it sputtered like it was several years past usefulness and only had so much struggle left in it. Jaune recognized the sound. It was like his Dad's car back home, and every time he and his sisters took a ride in it, they'd wager when the car would break down, much to their dad's chagrin. Happy memories.
"Ready to go, sweetie?" said the Woman.
The Boy swallowed. "Maybe, we should wake up Dad."
The Woman shook her head. "No, this is you and me time, okay? Only you and me. Don't you want to have fun?"
The boy looked conflicted, like he did want to, but was scared of what this fun thing might be. Jaune somehow felt like he did, understood his hesitance. Wanting to say something, knowing you had to say so,etching, but not knowing the right words, or the best way to put the few words you had. Fearing getting yelled out or hurt, or hurting someone else, fearing being wrong. A thousand reasons and more, all culminating into the easiest conclusion to reach in times of indecision. Which, of course, was indecision itself. Saying nothing.
The Woman gave a watery smile, if she knew all of this and had reached the same endpoint. Utter disagreement on both ends, but complete surrender to the course which was fated to take place. She offered no words of consolation, no assurances, and began to pull the car out of the driveway and onto the long black road. Before them, the rain obscured the world in a veil of heavy gray fog, but that did not seem to dissuade the woman at all. She drove on regardless, maybe even in spite of it.
Jaune's attention was drawn to his window, where he looked out and up into the dark sky as the rains fell on them with the same Uncaring dedication as always. No stars tonight, not with all the clouds. Very little light too, even from the moon. It was full and gray, its pathetic glow barely piercing the shielding clouds. Scared, perhaps. Like the little boy. Like everyone in the car was, maybe.
Jaune looked behind him to see the Boy looking out his window, too. Big blue eyes glued to the moon, just like his had been.
Old Hill Plaza was empty, which made sense considering the hour. The front lot was devoid of cars almost entirely, and the bank of stores were dark, had their gates drawn, their doors locked. Nothing moved. The wind did not blow, the few trees did not hiss, there was no audible evidence any animals lived nearby. The place was deader than a bank on Sunday and no mistake. The only essence of life were the constant ghostlights cast from the tall lamp posts, which did very little to dissuade anyone from attempting break-ins of various shops.
Jaune and the Eyeless Child followed a few strides behind the Woman and Boy as they made their way to the back of the plaza, the former already aware of their destination and looking straight ahead, the latter clinging to her side, looking around constantly, jumping at the rare sound breaking through the quiet. It was hard not to pity him. To feel like he did in the moment. Out in the dead of night, in a place you weren't supposed to be, and for reasons you don't fully understand, you couldn't be blamed for feeling terrified. Even in the care of someone you trusted to protect you.
They stopped at an old blue door, pocked with the wear-and-tear of the ages, the peeling paint and faded graffiti. Jaune knew this door from somewhere, but it was hard to recall anything at the moment. The Woman attempted to open the door, but found that it was locked. She tried shouldering it open, but the damn thing didn't budge very much. With a huff, she turned to the boy and put up another reassuring smile.
"Close your eyes, honey. I'm about to do a magic trick."
Jaune rather thought that the point of a magic trick was to see it happen, but he did as he was told. Well, sort of. He put his hands over his eyes, but peeked from between two fingers. Suspected that the little boy might have been doing the same.
The Woman set to work on the door with a steel wire and a tiny knife, clicking and scratching at the lock until with a loud ping, the door popped open. The Woman quickly put her tools away, then kneeled down to peel the boy's hands away, smiling indulgently. "There, see? Magic."
The boy looked up at her, then back at the door over and over, as if trying to decide if his surprise was genuine or not. "What's in there?"
"You'll see," She settled her hands on his shoulders and eased him toward the door. "It's okay. Go on."
It was colder and darker in the hallway than outside. Jaune struck with a familiar pang - the sound of an old air conditioner that made a clicking sound like there was something stuck in its fan, yet somehow did not prevent the machine from working in any way. The hall seemed to breathe with the sound. Their footsteps went from solid tile to soft carpet, and with it a familiar smell. Musty, like that of old furniture wasting in the humid and growing mildew inside. Jaune heard the lady whisper a curse as she felt about the wall, then a moment later, the darkness was replaced with blazing white light. It lingered for a moment, only then did Jaune get a lay of this new dimension they'd stepped in.
You could imagine his horror and shock no doubt, to see that it was not some insane new world, but an arcade.
Without even needing to look around, Jaune realized he had a rather intimate understanding of this place which he was damn sure he'd never been to before. He remembered the long desk on the far left if entering from the front, prizes behind the glass and on the high shelf behind. He remembered the one flickering light at the corner of the room, ever teetering on the edge of death. He remembered the stations, consoles, and machines, which all came to life one after another, playing their jaunty retro music and sound effects, a symphony of electronic magic. To behold it all brought a strangely nostalgic smile to his face like a soldier returning home after years abroad. It was like a second home. And not just to him. The Boy broke into an elevated grin, no longer questioning their adventure. He looked up at the Woman, begging her for permission, and she simply waved him on with a beam.
"I wanna play the Aliens…" whispered the Eyeless Child.
"I wanna play the Aliens!" The Boy rushed over to the console without thinking about the coins he'd need.
It seemed the Woman was also prepared for that. She went around the counter and picked the storage box open, taking a handful of coins out and bringing it to him. She brought a chair with her and sat nearby, watching him play the games. That was how it was for a while. Simply watching and encouraging as her boy ran about the arcade, coins jingling, spilling all over the dirty carpet, and making him have to scramble back to pick them up. He played Aliens Unleashed and beat the previous high score, jumping up and down with delight while the Woman cheered and clapped. He played one of those car games, got annoyed with the controls and came in last place. And instead of accepting being bad at the game, called it stupid, while the Woman tried to keep from laughing. Jaune could only sit on the floor and watch as the boy ran around, doing any and everything he wanted like an entire amusement park had been bought out for him to run around in.
It was admittedly, kind of adorable. Kind of.
The pinball machine let out a chorus sound effects, implying the boy had gotten a high score, and tickets rang out of the slot like printing money. By now, the boy had collected enough tickets to fill his arms and was dropping them everywhere. Ecstatically, the boy ran over to the Woman. "Look! Look, I…" he trailed off, smile melting. "What's wrong, Mo - [ data expunged ]?"
Jaune turned to look at her just in time to see her wiping her face with the sleeve of her coat, wearing that over her gown. She sniffled and gave her son a big smile, as if that could distract from the tears in her eyes, the flush of her face. "It's nothing. I'm fine. [ data not found ] just… sometimes she gets so happy that she cries."
The boy blinked. "Happy? Don't you only cry when you're sad?"
She shook her head. "You can cry when you feel a lot of things. When you're upset, when you're waking up in the morning, and especially when you're happy. If you cry then, it's probably because you're really happy."
The boy touched his cheek like he was hoping to find some tears there. "So, if I don't cry when I'm happy, am I not happy enough?"
She giggled, took her boy into her arms and drew him close to kiss his cheek. "Whether you cry or not, that doesn't mean you're any less or more happy, okay? But, if you're ever so happy, or sad, or angry, that you need to cry, then you should. Crying is how you express your feelings, understand?"
The boy frowned and lowered his head. "I don't like crying. That mean kid from school always makes fun of me. He says I'm a baby."
"Well, you know why he does that? Because he doesn't cry enough. And probably because he doesn't have someone who lets him. Forget what other people say, sweetie, understand? If you ever need to cry, for any reason, you do it. Don't hold it in." She shook her head slowly left to right, as if to ensure he took it all in. "Never ever hold it in. You understand? You're not a crybaby, do you understand? You are my super strong, super smart, super tough little man!"
With him in her arms, there was nothing he could do to keep her from kissing him sloppily on the cheek again and again. He fought and protested like any young boy might, and that only made her do it more. Finally she let him go, and he broke away, wiping his cheek with annoyance. With a huff, he said in a high voice, "I'm not little!" And he stormed off to play more games.
The Woman watched him go, smiling all the way.
Jaune hadn't noticed he'd smiled a bit too. Almost laughed himself, touching his face just as if he could feel those kisses. He wanted to be kissed like that. He craved it, even.
Infortunatus, sang the Shards.
As the night stretche on, the boy grew tired and bored, coming back to the Woman with all the tickets he'd earned in total. Together, they began to count them, and Jaune wasn't sure how but he was certain of how many there were. Two thousand forty-five, exactly.
The Boy looked down at his pile with pride. "Wish we could get a prize but…"
"Who says we can't?" The Woman said, making her way over to the counter. "Two thousand, right? We can get anything in here!"
"Um, are we allowed to?"
The Woman nodded emphatically. "Don't worry, baby, just pick out what you want."
That alleviated his worries quickly enough, and he came around to look at everything. All the stuffed animals, board games, games and gaming consoles, even costumes and such, all while he and the Woman talked about which would be the best. Jaune felt his eye settle on something in particular. A stuffed animal that was not very big and pretty cheap ticket-wise. A simple one that looked a lot like a werewolf. It carried a blue heart in its paws, and the stitching spelled out, "I Woof you" which was stupid, but sort of endearing. Something he might give to someone he cared about. Like one of his sisters, or his dad.
Or…
Strangely, the boy pointed the stuffed wolf out too. "That one!"
The Woman looked confused and pointed at a console higher up. "But didn't you always want the Gamestation Two?"
"I can get it later. That one, Mo- [ redacted ]!"
She handed him the wolf plush even so and he observed it like he was judging it's worth, scrutinizing the quality of the work. When he judged it was indeed worthy of his praise, he passed it back to the Woman. "Here. It's for you."
She blinked. "Me? Honey, it's your prize." She pushed it back into his hands.
"I know, but I want you to have it." He pushed it into her hands.
"It's yours. I can't have it."
"Why not?"
"I… I just can't, alright?"
The boy looked hurt. "But I want you to have it. It's okay, I don't want a prize. You can have -"
Jaune felt a jolt through his own body as the Woman pushed the wolf plush into the boy's chest, but had pushed him too hard and made him fall flat on his behind. With shock, he stared up at her, unable to believe it.
"I said, it's yours." said the Woman, lips set into a frown which left no room for argument.. "I can't have it. It has to be for you. I don't want anything from you, do you hear me?"
The boy swallowed and looked close to tears. He got to his feet and clutched the wolf to his heart, head down, nodding his head obediently.
Silence lingered for a long, weighty moment, Jaune's heart beating rapidly in pity for the Boy. Then, as if a switch flipped, the Woman's anger melted into realized guilt, and she took him into her arms. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never mean to hurt you."
The boy nodded, face pressed into her stomach. Jaune couldn't see it, but he imagined the boy was trying to hold in his tears, trying to pretend that he wasn't hurt, and was mature enough to understand the Woman's mistake. But he didn't understand. He couldn't. He was at that age where he could forgive his loved ones for anything. He was still in that phase of blind, unconditional love. The Woman drew him even closer, whispering sweet calming things to her cub, rubbing his back, all while her lips trembled, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, just barely keeping the tears in.
The world was silent, all but for the flickering lights and the running games and machines, as A grown woman and a young boy stood in the middle of it all and held each other.
And two lost souls watched.
The Late Truck was one of Jaune's favorite things back home. One of those food trucks that sold hot food for those working overnight shifts, barhoppers, clubbers, even homeless sometimes. They had this awesome fried chicken and biscuit with butter that he got every time without fail. That and this weird combo of sweet tea and root beer. It was his own little tradition of a kind.
So it was with a fair amount of envy that he watched the Boy bite into his second chicken biscuit, spit and butter oozing off his lip, eyes closed to relish that momentary heaven.
They were sitting at some foldable chairs before foldable tables, all stretched out in the park. There were a few others out, but it was like they'd found the right time where most of the community was asleep. Night dwellers ambled by, drunken and not, waiting for buses, sleeping on benches, cars rolling by so silently it was as if they were minding the sleeping world. It was a familiar spot. Not always the same for the Late Truck, most likely, but the same for Jaune.
The Woman leaned on the table, chin resting on the back of her hand, grinning at her boy. "What about that girl in your class? The one with the pigtails? She says hi to you every morning."
"She's not my friend!" said the Boy, tremendously offended at the suggestion. "She's weird!"
"I think she just likes you, honey."
He squinted, as if the concept of being liked by anyone was beyond his current understanding. "You mean, like she wants to hug me?"
"She might want to do more than that. She might want to kiss you."
The boy's face twisted with disgust. "Kiss me?"
"Like how I kiss your dad."
The boy's face twisted in disgust. "Well, she can kiss somebody else!"
The Woman grinned knowingly, like she knew secrets he never could. "Well, one day you might meet a girl you want to kiss. Would you want her to kiss somebody else?"
"I'm not kissing no girl,"
"You kiss your sisters."
"They're not girls. They're sisters."
The Woman broke into laughter. "Honey, you'll want to kiss someone, eventually."
He huffed. "Not today."
"You'll see. But when you do find a girl like that, make sure you're a good man to her. You have to be strong for her, and brave, and you have to be caring too. And so does she. Never choose a girl who will treat you wrong, okay?" Her eyes fell, staring hard at the table. "And above all, never betray her. Be faithful, honey. Give her your everything. Understand?"
He nodded slowly. "I don't really get it."
"You will one day," That's when a phone rang and the Woman pulled out hers, frowned at the flashing screen. She gave her boy a syrupy smile. "Give me a minute, okay?"
The boy was too busy biting into his third and last biscuit, and nodded without much commitment.
The Woman went a few steps off, but not far enough, Jaune could hear her from where he was. Which meant the boy likely would not miss what she said, either.
The Son started chewing a little more slowly, Jaune knew that he was listening.
"Don't even, Vick. Don't you dare. You knew exactly what you were doing! You've only ever been about yourself. It was bad enough that you dragged your friends down with you, I should have expected you'd get after me eventually. You're disgusting."
The Boy started chewing a little more slowly, Jaune knew that he was listening more intently now.
"Don't you dare pin this on me! You agreed to this. You suggested it. You want to change your mind now? He's eight years old, Vick. He won't be able to adjust!" The Woman almost yelled, her face twisted with fury, mouth wide open to do it. Then, she glanced toward the boy and brought her voice to a desperate whisper, a plea of pleas. "Don't do this, Vick. It was once and I'm better now. Please, don't do this…"
Jaune noticed the boy glanced up, then back down upon realizing he'd almost outed himself for eavesdropping.
This time the Woman did not restrain her anger, and spooked Jaune, the Boy, and even the Eyeless Child to alert, fearful attention. "Damn you, then!" She spat, voice warbling. "Damn you to hell, Vick. Some sister you are!"
The Woman hung up the phone, but did not return to the table immediately. She pressed her hands to her face and began to tremble, like she might drop to her knees any moment. Jaune saw that the boy wanted to go over and comfort her, knowing that something was wrong, but he didn't move. Jaune couldn't even fault him for it. It was hard to know what it was your place to do and what you could help with, especially as a kid. In the end, he waited for the woman to pull herself together, making sure to smile up at her as she returned, as if nothing was ever wrong.
"Was that [ redacted ] ?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yeah, we were just catching up." The Mother stared at him for a while. "She might come visit us one day, and when she does, I don't want you listening to anything she says, okay?"
The boy looked confused. "Why?"
"Your [ data not found ] tells a lot of lies. She likes to control things. She likes getting what she wants, even if it might hurt other people."
"Is she a bad person?"
"No." The Woman shook her head, "But she comes pretty close sometimes." She forced herself to perk up. "In any case, we were talking about that girl that likes you, weren't we? You should talk to her."
They fell back onto that topic, but Jaune could tell it was lingering in their minds. It wasn't quite fake happiness, but when bad things came in, the smiles afterwards were not always completely genuine.
Things never really go back to high spirits after the demons wormed in.
Far enough away, Jaune watched the pair walk together, hand-in-hand, barefoot, sand in their toes, as the tides caressed the shoreline. As always, the moon loomed from on high like a giant white eye, heaven-bright rays pouring down on the beach, on the dark sea. Spotlighting this unremarkable beach like a grand play was soon to unfold.
It was only then that Jaune noticed he could not hear the Shards' song anymore. That didn't mean they weren't still there, though. Not at all. He felt their presence, felt them all over, like a swarm of roaches crawling up his naked body. No song, though. Not even a whisper.
They were at attention. They were waiting. They were watching. The very universe turned into this pathetic slab of earth on this unremarkable planet. But why? What could be so interesting that perhaps even the Gods themselves paid attention?
Jaune took a shaky swallow, holding the Eyeless Child's hand tightly.
The Woman and Boy had done plenty of other things since their late meal. Picking flowers and playing tag in the park and other such, spending hours together, just as if they were on vacation rather than being out past bedtime. Now, he babbled on about something one topic or another, while she listened and nodded along.
The Eyeless child was still beside Jaune, unfazed and watching in committed silence. Jaune felt a little guilty for not having given him much attention, but then wondered what would even come of it. He still had nothing really to say to him, since a lot of what they were doing seemed very incongruent with a desperate search for a kid's eyeballs. Maybe this was all some elaborate prank and the curtains would pull back, the camera men would jump out, and the audience would burst into gut-busting laughter. Somehow, that did not seem very likely.
The Boy had started booting clumps of wet sand with every step, plucking on and on without a care to think of. It was nice, that ignorance. When you knew nothing, it was so easy to think that you would become happier by learning more. But then you did learn, you saw how things truly were, how unfair the world was, how insignificant your existence truly was, and you wish for nothing more than to forget. Jaune remembered wishing to forget. Laying there, in the sand, too weak to move, the back of his head feeling wet and warm, his eyes burning like they might melt out of his skull.
He felt it now, too, strangely. Like someone had turned the burner on low behind his eyeballs, the tender flesh slowly coming to a boil.
Finally, the Woman and Boy stopped at a spot before the water. Nothing special about it. The beach stretched forever on either side, the world behind them shrouded in deep darkness as if this part of the world was cut off from everything else. It was just those two there, despite Jaune and his little companion since they probably didn't count. Or did they? What had the Eyeless child said? This woman had to bring them to this place? They were supposed to be here. But to do what?
To see what?
"Jaune," The woman's voice was gentle, gentle as a parent's arms around a newborn at the mention of his name. Jaune perked up, drawn to that voice by pure instinct, a signal to his very existence. But the woman wasn't talking to him. She was talking to the Boy.
The boy looked up at her, and only then did Jaune see his bright blonde hair, his big blue eyes dashed with moonlight, cursed with innocence and ignorance.
"Do you remember grandma? How we only ever see her on Thanksgiving?"
He nodded empathically. "Yeah."
"Grandma loves you and your sisters all very much, even if she can't see you very often. You know that, right? Because when you love someone, even if they are far away, it doesn't change how much you love them. No matter how far away Grandma is, she loves you. Understand? Don't ever forget that."
The boy looked like he barely understood a word of that, but he smiled regardless and said he wouldn't forget.
The Woman tried to smile, but it didn't last, and her bright eyes were drowning in regret, "Sweetie… Mommy might need to go away for a while."
Mommy? The word was almost foreign to Jaune. This woman couldn't be. Not unless -
Someone pressed the STOP button with all haste, suspending the scene in static. They pressed REWIND.
But Jaune pressed PLAY before they could.
The Boy whose name was Jaune looked up at his… Mother. "Why?" he asked.
The Mother squeezed his tiny hand, and at the same time, she squeezed Jaune's bigger hand, even though he was nowhere near her. "It's hard to explain, baby. Mommy doesn't really know why, either. But… your dad thinks it might help."
"Can't we all just go with you?"
She did not look away as she shook her head. Jaune expected him to keep asking, to demand answers even, like he would have done himself. Or would he have? Who was to say he wouldn't do the same as this little boy, hanging his head, wrestling with the idea that he might not see his Mother again for a long time. Maybe Jaune would do the same thing. Maybe lots of people would.
The little Jaune's mother kneeled down to him, taking hold of one hand, then turning his chin up with the other. "But no matter where I go, sweetie, no matter how far away I am, I will always love you. Do you understand?"
The Son nodded weakly. "Okay…"
Someone pressed STOP, scrambled to rewind. Jaune was faster. Everything continued.
Someone was tugging at his shirt. Saying something about not being to see, about a promise and whatnot, Jaune couldn't give it any attention now. His attention was fixed to the boy with his name, to the mother.
The Mother looked behind her, right through Jaune, again as if she actually saw him, or rather was looking at something right through turned to her son. "Let's play a little more, okay? Then we can go home."
So they did. They threw sand at each other, and they chased each other across the beach, they build poor sandcastles. In one particular game of tag, they bowled into each other, or at least the young Jaune did, trying to bring her down like an overeager lineman. Mom would instead snatch him into her arms, attacking with tight hugs and slobbering kisses, the Son screaming with joy and protest, fighting to escape, but not fighting as hard as he could have. The both of them laughing like the damn fools they were. That they were happy to be.
Then, the Mother darted out of her son's weak grip and ran into the shallows, turning around to splash water in his face as he chased her, his hair slick wet. A ray of moonlight cast over them - the fates were watching, the Shards were humming, Jaune felt his body grow colder, the backs of his eyes grow hotter. So hot that they began to sweat.
Someone tried to press the STOP button. But Jaune held the PlAY button down with all his strength.
The young Jaune splashed his beloved mother, laughing and screaming all high and girlish as she returned a bigger wave, strong enough to knock him onto his ass. Jaune felt a sting in his own rear, as if he'd sat on a bed of rocks. If the boy had sat on rocks, he must not have noticed. No one could have known that was the only warning he and his mother were given that night.
The young Jaune sprang up, growling like a wolf pup trying to impress his parent. He charged his mother right then and ran right into her. Every other time, she was too sturdy to be knocked down, resulting entirely in her pulling a reversal and pelting him with more kisses. Perhaps that's what Jaune expected. Wanted. But this time, he had gotten enough startup and caught her unprepared. They went crashing down together into the water, laughing like morons.
Someone reached up to try the STOP button one final time… only to resign to withdraw. There was no preventing it anymore. Let the truth be known, they said.
Grant him eyes.
The young Jaune let out something between a cough and laughter as he crawled off of his mother, sloshing through the water awkwardly and spinning around so he could catch his mom with a wave once she got up.
But she did not get up.
In the shallow water, she laid entirely submerged. And did not move.
The boy called her bluff. "You're not tricking me, Mom!" He chuckled a little.
In the shallow water, christened by moonlight, she laid there. And did not get up.
Jaune's skin was ice, his body stiff, he'd forgotten to blink, forgotten to think. All he was capable of was seeing. What's happening, demanded the Eyeless Child, tugging constantly at his shirt.
"Mom?" The young Jaune took a step forward, confused, staring at that horrible shallow, unaware that it was just deep enough to be a coffin.. He screamed and rushed over to help her out. He managed to lift her by her back, slipping in the water a bit, but just managing to keep her upright. That was only a portion of the work that needed to be done to save her. If indeed, saving had been possible. "Come on, mom. I can't…"
Jaune felt his own arms ache as if he was pulling her out of the water himself. The boy only just barely got her to the shore, her lower body still in the water, but there he was able to lay her on the ground. In a panic, he kneeled over her. He asked if she was hurt, asked where it hurt,, begging to know what happened, begging her to wake up.
The boy was touching her face now, trying to get some reaction out of her, and he left two stains on her cheeks. The moonlight gave it color. Red.
He saw it himself now, his hands covered in blood, even the side of his face had a patch of it there, sticking some hair to his cheek. The boy turned his mother's head to lol at the back, and Jaune knew well what the wound looked like without needing to see himself. He'd seen it before. And you could never forget such a thing. He did not know if the wound was bad or not. No child could.
But even a child knows what losing too much blood could cause.
The boy scrambled around, his mind fighting with itself to figure out what he could do. Sobbing. Sobbing was all he could do. His face twisted with horror, the tears all over his cheeks. He brushed sand on the wound thinking it might close it up. It didn't. He scraped up some water to wash the blood away, but more kept spilling out. It was all over his shirt now, splotches of dark on white. Desperate now, breathing fast, the world blurry. He dragged her arm over his shoulders, just the one much too big even for him, and he tried to get her on his back. He'd carry her to a hospital. Or to someone else who could get them to a hospital. Yes, everything would be fine.
The young Jaune got two confident steps in… before his mother's weight bested him.
In a case of cruel poetry, it was his mother who had tackled him to the ground now. So well that the young Jaune could not move his legs, could not pull himself free. Trapped. Trapped under his mother's corpse. His mother's corpse that he made. The Mother that he'd killed.
The flames sprang, wrapped around Jaune's eyes, but he could not scream. Because he already was.
The young Jaune wailed and cried, trying to make words, trying to beg for help. Failing even that. His mother's cheek laid on the top of his head, The blood of her wound pouring into his head, into his hair, oozing onto his face, mixing with his tears. Her eyes were half-closed and colorless, as if she was half between awake and asleep, fighting to come back to her baby.
And the Motherless Child let out his anguished wail. He screamed it to the land and the sea, the clouds and the stars, to the living and the dead, to heaven and hell, to time and space and infinity. All of existence heard him.
But no one came to help.
The screen was made of static. The video stopped playing on its own, for it had reached the end.
Jaune felt the warm blood on him, in his hair, on his skin, in his eyes, on his tongue. He felt it on the right side of his face, which now burned like it was battery acid instead. He pressed his hands to his cheeks, clawed at it, nails digging into the skin like he wanted to tear his own face off. They didn't touch his eyes. They were wide and horrified, staring at something so unnatural and wrong that it had to be a lie. Not him. He could never hurt his mother like that. Never. Not him. Not him…
But it was there in front of him. Before his all-seeing eyes.
And he knew it to be true.
"What happened?" begged the Eyeless Child.
Jaune opened his mouth up wide, so wide that he felt the top half of his head would pop off. He raised his head to the sky, and he saw the pale moon looking down on this hell, its eerie glow almost alive.
"What happened?" Asked the Eyeless Child.
Jaune answered him by squeezing his face as tight as possible, staring at this hell with a cold horror on a cosmic scale.
And he joined his younger self in a blood-curdling scream.
A desolate land of black sand and earth before the dark waters of the sea. Lands he'd wanted the young master to stay from. But his curiosity was boundless, and there were few secrets which he did not feel the need not to know. Endlessly curious, unready for the cruelties of the world. Could he not see that he needed to be protected? The Great Truth was beyond his young comprehension.
And so it was with some measure of relief that Wolf, astride his dutiful beat-mount, did not see the young Master sobbing in despair after having plucked eyes that did not suit him. Nor did he see the Shield Knight, freshly robbed of his eyes, laying dead on the ground. But it was only a measure of relief. You could not call the scene he happened upon good. No matter how you put it.
The Shield Knight stood there a few feet off the beach's edge, and he stared down at the only other occupant of this wretched wasteland.
The Corpse of the Mother.
She lay there, naked and twisted with rotten blood and fleshy decay, skin so weak and tender that it could peel from a gentle breeze. Sprawled in the sand like she'd simply washed up from the ocean and no one bothered to return her there. But this was her grave, and corpses should be left well alone.
As the Wolf drew closer, he saw the Shield Knight's eyes were wide open, and therefore still in his head. Only how had he even gotten here in one piece? He'd always had a strange feeling about the Shield Knight, but now it was even stranger. The knight looked down on the corpse with empty eyes, like he was caught in a stasis of some kind, his mind broken beyond repair. Perhaps the journey here had driven him mad. That was why no one else belonged in this world but the young master and himself. And the Corpse of the Mother, of course. But you could expect her not to go anywhere, so long as the young master didn't get to her.
And that's when he saw him, the young master standing a ways off. Looking confused as always, but certainly not crying. It never turned out well when he cried. One would hope the boy after a few times of seeing the Truth, would at least remember the pain that came with seeing the Great Truth. But that was the horror of it. He could not be allowed to remember. So this constant cycle of him seeking out what will hurt him continued on. Such was the Wolf's purpose to prevent such a tragedy. And to seal the horrors away.
The Wolf dismounted and strode dutifully over to the young master, and at the sound of his footsteps, the boy turned to look up at him with those empty eyes of his. "Wolf?"
"It is I."
"You're home."
"And you are not. You have come to the place from which I forbade you."
He lowered his head, ashamed. "I'm sorry,"
"And you intended to take the Knight's eyes."
"I was gonna give them back."
The Wolf looked toward the Knight again, still staring at that corpse, no idea if he was seeing the master's projection of her corpse or the twisted nightmare that was this monstrosity the Wolf could see. He wondered why his eyes hadn't been taken already. The young master should have taken them right away, such was his eagerness to know the things he shouldn't. It really did not make sense why the Shield Knight was even still alive, but perhaps he'd best take miracles for what they were.
The Wolf lifted the boy's chin. "You must go home, young master. Go home and rest. We will have words when I return."
The boy lowered his head, but nodded.
"You know why I do this, do you not?"
"I know."
"Then, in future, do your best to not disobey again." The boy could make such promises and had, but it was fruitless. It was in the nature of children to seek knowledge. It was in the nature of creatures in general.
But some things are simply beyond comprehension. Some things are just too much for the mind to witness. The Shield Knight was likely crippled forever, having seen the thing that not even the young master was allowed to see. Only the Wolf could view it and survive, such was the purpose, the importance of his armor. He alone could protect the young master and the very world from this ungodly truth.
The young master began to climb up Joy's massive mane, scrambling up onto her back and holding tight. The Wolf shared one last glance with him, then nodded Joy off. The wind parted as the giant beast darted off across the dark wasteland, at last getting his charge to safety.
That just left the aShield Knight, and what a predicament that was. That glasses woman would be distraught over this, but there was nothing to be done. They should not have ventured into these dark lands at all, the fools. They were dealing in matters far beyond them. This was a tragedy, no doubt. But the Wolf's very purpose was to see such horrors and bear them, and to protect his master from witnessing them. It was his purpose. It was his reason to exist.
He ambled over to the Shield Knight, ready to sling him over his shoulder and return him to the world below. He was their problem now. The Wolf grabbed his shoulder.
The steel of his helmet shattered as it cracked against his face, breaking as easily as glass… and the next thing he knew, he was hurtling through space.
The stars flashed by the billions around him, no air or wind or anything to make friction of. He was almost floating in a way, cruising like a luxury ship across the sea. He sipped past the moon, watched it shrink quickly away, becoming a dot as he flew through the open ocean of the cosmos. Something took him, the world had weight again, and he was jerked in another direction entirely. The world below, which had been connected to his home somehow. He plunged through the atmosphere, the swirling lake of black clouds, punched through, seeing the ashen landscape far below. He only had time to curl up a little and brace himself, before he crashed into the sand.
It wasn't long before he came to, and in the arms of that black-haired woman. He stood, looking about at everyone, who stared at him with shock like they were seeing a ghost. Surprised to see him. He couldn't have been gone for that long. These people were strange indeed.
The glasses woman came up after having composed herself, at least of the surprise. "Where's the Shield Knight? You swore to bring him back alive. Please, where is he? Where's my boy?"
The Wolf looked up at the sky and squinted. He peered through the stars, past the moon, through the burning atmosphere of his crumbling homeland, and he saw the Shield Knight there, standing over the corpse of the Mother, just like before. Only now he was lowering his fist. With one careless blow, he'd sent the Wolf hurtling back to this place like a falling star. For the first time in a very long time, the Wolf swallowed a lump of fear.
Because there was only one thing in his entire existence which could make him afraid.
The Wolf could only watch grimly as the young man kneeled down to the Mother's body, still dead-eyed, like he was doing it at the command of some evil god. A puppet to it's master's workings. A dog to a command. And the Wolf felt the pressure build in the air. Pressure like when the young master got close to the Corpse of the Mother, after realizing the truth. Only the young master was far away now, so why was this happening? He looked at the knight with growing suspicion. Who was he? His face. It was strangely familiar.
It was rare for him to feel fear, if at all, but there was one thing that did, and it was when the young master and the corpse of the Mother were reunited, when the Truth was discovered. Because what followed was nothing short of madness.
The Shield Knight hovered over the corpse for a moment, pressed his hands against her pale stomach, dug his fingernails in, a spurt of blood spattering his face, seeping into his eye.
As easily as plastic, the Shield Knight ripped her stomach open in a spray of rotten blood and flesh.
And he crawled inside of her.
All the Wolf could do was let out a breath to steady his pounding heart. He tried to convince himself that it worked and almost succeeded. Almost.
"He will arrive shortly," he said, more to himself than the others.
This is probably the weirdest chapter I've ever written.
ISA