55. Face to Face (Patreon)

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the chapter delay again. I guess you're probably getting used to them by now, but that's... y'know, not a good thing, and I shouldn't get used to them, so I'm going to keep apologizing for it. Anyway, this chapter fought me a lot because it is rough, and—content warnings, stop reading now if you want to go in blind—it covers a lot of discussion on abuse, psychological issues common in abused people, and it implies a pretty serious past history of abuse. If that's not the sort of thing you're up for today, save the chapter for another time! Anyway, thank you for your patience, and enjoy!

I find Jet sitting alone on the ground, staring at the rest of the camp with a mix of awkwardness and paranoia as her tail flops mournfully behind her. She stiffens as I scuttle up closer to her, her usual cool persona having thoroughly shattered under the weight of an alien sky. She has, to my surprise, taken Ida's advice and ripped her shirt to let her wings out, wrapping them over her arms which are, in turn, wrapped around her knees. They're a lot larger now, an odd, almost pterodactyl-like wing structure made of skin instead of feathers, but without the bat-style fingers threaded throughout. Her clawed toes peek out from underneath the blanket of wings, curled in anxiety. I'd almost think she was Alma, if not for her intense alertness and upturned ears.

"Hey," I greet her softly, scuttling up carefully so as to not spook her. "Ready to go?"

"Uh," she stammers. "N-no, honestly? Not really? I think I'm too freaked out by this place to be comfortable leaving it right now, if that makes any sense."

Hmm. It doesn't at first, but spend a moment looking around, taking in the dim green glow of the sun's light reflecting off the bottom of the leaves at night, the omnipresent trunk of the world tree, stretching out beyond sight, and the aliens in the ramshackle camp around us. It's terrifying, it's beautiful, and it is so, so much to get a handle on. I only managed because the only times I had the luxury to think too hard about it were the times I was desperately recovering from something horrible happening on Earth.

"It makes sense," I ultimately agree. "Can I help in some way? Explain things? Clean you up a little?"

"Clean?" she says. "Oh. Uh. Y'know what, sure, I might feel better if I feel a little less disgusting."

I nod and cast a quick Refresh on her, pulling all the dirt, grime, and sweat off her body in one easy sweep. Unexpectedly, she flinches, pulling back with a terrified look on her face and hugging her arms to her chest.

"Did you just…?"

"Did I what?" I ask, suddenly terrified. "I… I'm sorry, what's wrong? I just cleaned you. Sweat and dirt and stuff?"

"Off of everywhere on my body?" she accuses.

"Y-yes?" I stammer. "I'm sorry, did it feel weird or something? No one's ever complained about it before, I just… y'know, cleaning everything is usually how people get clean? I didn't think about it. I'm sorry. Uh. What… what did I do wrong?"

Jet blinks, lets out a shuddering breath, and shakes her head.

"...Nothing, never mind," she sighs. "That makes perfect sense, I'm just… really on edge right now. This is insane, you know? We're in another world. There's a fucking alien walking around over there. And a robot! And you're some kind of horrific giant bug! And there's a… a half-raptor! That one is your fault but it's still insane!"

"Is it more or less insane than the fact that humans apparently evolved here independently?" I wonder.

"Not really the point, Hannah!" Jet insists.

"Right. Sorry. Uh. Yeah, it's… it's pretty crazy. I guess I've kind of gotten used to it over the past… gosh, I genuinely have no idea how long it's been? A month? Ish? Maybe? Maybe longer? Oh geez, I actually just have no idea. Time's kinda funky when you don't really sleep."

"Oh, yeah, I guess so," Jet says, staring up at the trunk. "How… how is it so big? Like, physically, how is it possible?"

"Mmm. Subtly different laws of physics, is my guess," I answer. "Either that or something about it being fourth-dimensional. World tree wood is pretty much the only thing I can stand on when I head that way."

"'Subtly different laws of physics,' huh? Is that your fancy way of saying 'magic?'"

"No," I tell her firmly. "The Goddess is not a creator, just… a meddler. This place existed before Her. If it had anything like magic at the time, it wasn't the magic we know."

That's what She told me, anyway. She didn't make the anthill. She found it.

"Really?" Jet asks, looking up. "It's hard to imagine anything like this existing without the supernatural."

"Well, that's what humans used to think about Earth, right?" I muse. "I guess most of them still do. But there's also another explanation, and that's just… well, the Goddess didn't make this from scratch, but I don't how long She's been here, influencing things. It could be that the tree was a lot different, before She arrived. Besides all the bits about it being uprooted and on fire and impaled and stuff, anyway. I guess I could ask Her, but I'm a little too overwhelmed to try inviting a divine revelation right now."

Jet doesn't respond, busy just staring up at the world.

"Sorry," I say. "I guess that's not very helpful."

"It's not… unhelpful," Jet hedges. "I guess I'm just only starting to come to terms with the shit you're dealing with. The shit you've wrapped us up in. It's even more than I ever imagined."

"Oh," I mutter. "Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, you might be rid of me soon. She was raving about how much she hated being in love with me when I found her. And like… yeah. Fair."

"Mmm," Jet grunts, spreading her wings. "A little too late, don't you think? We're tied to you whether we like it or not. You've scarred our lives permanently, Hannah."

"Yeah," I agree. "And I'm not sure whether it's better for me to try to make up for that, or try to just avoid you. I don't know which would help you more."

Jet raises her eyebrows a little, considering me.

"...Well, it's good you know those are both potential options," she muses. "Unfortunately, I'm under the distinct impression that you don't really get any of what Alma was telling you. You don't understand how… obsessed she becomes. How hard it is for us to break away from anyone. She's got a whole host of problems beyond just me, you know."

"...Yeah," I agree. "I know, but I don't know. I see the flags, but not what they're planted in. I've been a truly awful girlfriend."

"Well, if it's any consolation I'm pretty sure Alma has been an awful girlfriend, too," Jet sighs. "It's not entirely your fault that you don't magically understand someone who's terrible at communicating. I did try to warn you, though. It's not the first time she's gotten obsessed with someone like this, and unfortunately there's no way it'll be the last."

"I just thought I could be patient and keep an open mind and we'd be able to work through things when she was ready," I say miserably. "When she started screaming at me and saying all those terrifying things, I just… I mean, I thought it was about the whole 'teleporting her to a horrible magic murder world' thing, right? Because like, yeah, of course someone would hate me for that. I keep hurting her on accident over and over and I let myself believe it was fine because she said it was fine and like, isn't that a good reason? Trusting your partner when they communicate their emotions is supposed to be the healthy and good thing to do, right?"

"Yeah, it is," Jet shrugs. "But sometimes people aren't acting very healthy. Sometimes they lie. Sometimes they're hurt. Sometimes they lash out. Sometimes they just can't be the person they want to be. We are traumatized as fuck, Hannah. Some pretty sick shit happened to us. I'm not saying it's your fault for not understanding what Alma was going through. You didn't give her her mental disorders. I'm just saying it's your fault for putting us through everything you did cause."

"Yeah, that's fair," I sigh. "Alma said she doesn't even think of herself as a person. I wish I knew what to do about it. If I just knew how to help, I'd do it in an instant."

"Yeah," Jet sighs. "I wish I knew how you could help, too. I guess this problem might be a little bigger than just you, me, and Alma, though."

She stands up, stretching her wings hard enough that they shake a little.

"I don't really think I'm a person either, to be honest," Jet admits. "A person is supposed to be like… a complete entity. Someone with passions, hatreds, desires, struggles… a whole complex inner world teeming with potential. A person is supposed to work a job and live a life and have other people that they care for. And that just seems… way beyond my level, you know? I have so much difficulty just keeping Alma and I alive I can't even imagine taking on the responsibilities of a functioning member of society."

She shrugs.

"I guess when I look at people, the idea of being like them, of having the capacity to live up to what it means to be like them… it seems completely impossible. And that impossibility is terrifying. Better to just reject it than to crack my skull open beating my head against a wall that won't break. I think Alma feels the same way. It's just how our brain works. It can't look at a person and go 'yes, I am in the same category of thing.' Not after how much we've been hurt. Everyone else is just… too far away."

"Oh," I manage quietly. "I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't gotta say anything," Jet shrugs. "It is what it is. I am what I am. I don't long for personhood, I just don't vibe with it. Alma's a lot more torn up about the whole thing than I am, you can refer to me as a person and I won't argue with you about it."

"Um, okay," I nod, bobbing my whole body up and down. "Noted, I suppose."

Jet sighs again, giving her wings an experimental flap.

"...Gosh, you're such a weird little creature right now," she comments. "I honestly kind of feel crazy for talking to you. But like, in sort of a good way? You're fuckin' tiny, so it's like talking to a pet."

"Um, thanks, I think?" I manage to answer.

"Honestly the magic bullshit you're using to ruin our life is kind of annoying in large part because you'd be downright tolerable without it," Jet scowls. "Alma could use a friend, girlfriend or otherwise, and… fuck, I guess I could use one too. Being completely alone for so long has… probably just made our mental health even worse. I just wish it didn't have to be you."

"Um, I mean, it doesn't really?" I shrug. "I, uh. Y'know, I'm willing to try to make up for things, but I understand if… my lack of self-control makes that untenable. There's Ida, though! Or Valerie."

"Who the fuck is Valerie?" Jet asks.

…Huh? Oh, right. Only Alma knows. Because I screwed up again. Crap. I don't really want to call her Brendan again, though, so I'm not sure what to say.

"Uh… never mind," I mumble. "My point is just that you aren't alone. I know you've had a terrible time getting people to understand you and Alma, but I think you can trust my other friends, even if you can't trust me. Or… or you could find other people completely! Good people exist in the world. I don't… want to tie you to me. I'm only really just starting to understand the depths to which I hurt you, but… I am starting to get it. And you're right to leave."

"...Yeah," Jet sighs. "If only I could. Doesn't work that way, though. I give it even odds that Alma will still be obsessed with you, even after her breakdown. And I just can't do anything that actually matters for our life without her coordination, which means I can't do anything period because she won't fucking coordinate! I'm probably stuck with you, and honestly I kind of suspect that's the best option I have anyway, because you've already fucked us up in such impossible ways that the prospect of risking Alma latching onto someone worse in what will probably end up as a world of magic is significantly more terrifying. I just… I hate this. I wish I knew what was going on from more than context clues. I wish I could just fucking talk to her for once!"

Jet raises her voice at the end, stomping the ground in an uncharacteristic display of unbridled emotion. And I feel… something. I mean, I'm feeling a lot of things right now, but what stands out to me is an unexpected tickle of intuition, a realization about the personalities of the major players here. Alma wants to shut Jet out. She got a spell for that, because it's dramatic and horrifying and most of all it's true to who she is. Jet wants to talk to Alma. And that, too, would be quite the sight to see.

"...At the risk of saying something that might ruin your life somehow," I volunteer quietly, "I think you probably can."

Jet blinks at me, dumbfounded. Light and Pneuma. I can see how the spell would work, it just makes perfect sense for her.

"Are you serious?" she asks me.

"Yeah," I confirm. "It's exactly the sort of spell the Goddess would give you. If you look for a way, I think you'll find it."

In moments, her demeanor changes. Her awe of the world tree has vanished, her aloof disdain for me replaced by interest, by need, desperate and all-consuming. She approaches me, kneels down to my level, stares at me directly. It's such an instantaneous change that I'm terrified I've ruined the one good thing about our relationship: that she knows she should hate me.

"How do I look for it?" she asks.

The Goddess says She loves us. But I wonder, fearfully, what that means to Her. I'm certainly not an expert, but I have seen no evidence of what I consider love. Even Her so-called gifts are full of poison, twisting something that should be beautiful to us into something horrible. Should I have said nothing? How, exactly, is this going to go wrong?

"Reach for what you want," I tell Jet anyway. "Yearn for it. If you feel something in response, focus on that feeling, and what it tells you that you need. Your soul is designed for you. You can understand what it tells you."

I just know these things sometimes. Because I know Her. Because She shows me Herself, She whispers Her secrets to me. No matter how much I hate Her, I will always be Her prophet.

Jet does as instructed, closing her eyes and focusing inward. Her face is impassive at first, but then it twists into a frown, her expression twitching.

"I can't," Jet eventually says, her eyes still closed.

"Why?" I ask.

"I don't have enough power."

Oh. Hmm. I wonder how many spells are like that? Sindri taught me that all magic should be used extensively before naming it, and while I'm extremely suspicious of anything Sindri told me for obvious reasons, it definitely makes sense to fear the miscast. Still… spells that need names in order to be used at all seem to be unusually common among me and my friends. I should ask around to see if that's normal.

"That means you need to name it," I tell Jet out loud.

"Isn't that the thing you said I absolutely shouldn't do because it might kill me?" she asks.

"Yep," I confirm. "It's a really dangerous thing to do. I do it anyway because I can heal myself and I'm the Goddess' favorite—"

The Goddess coos and squeezes me tightly, impossible limbs and uncountable hands stroking all over my body as She confirms that, yes, yes I am. I shudder and continue.

"...But you don't have the same lifelines, unless you're comfortable risking me healing you with another dose of the spell that transformed you."

"Hmm," Jet scowls. "I can't say I love the idea, though it's worth asking in case of emergency: how badly would it fuck me up?"

"I can't answer that for certain," I tell her. "I don't have conscious control over exactly what changes happen to you; it's based on my subconscious impressions, desires, and assumptions. But I suspect that relatively little would happen to you, beyond your current changes finishing their growth. You feel… almost complete."

"Well that sounded kind of creepy, but also kind of reassuring?" Jet hedges. "I guess you have tentative permission to zap me if and only if you have legitimate reason to believe I'll die if you don't."

"Noted," I nod. "I should have more control over my spell now that I understand it, too. Uh, y'know, for what it's worth."

"The fact that you so openly and consistently acknowledge the horrible things you've done to us certainly makes you the most endearing abuser we've ever had to deal with," Jet says, actually… smiling a little? "But the constant self-flagellation is also a little grating. It almost makes me believe you might actually get better, and that's not something I ever want to believe again."

Oh.

"Anyway, I need a name for the spell, huh?" Jet says, my brain grinding as she shifts the conversation topic without a clutch. "What sort of names will work best?"

Ah. Gonna do it despite the danger, huh? Well, I'd be a hypocrite to blame her for that.

"Well, it has to accurately represent the spell in some way, so that its function can at least be vaguely implied," I explain. "A theme behind the name is helpful, but super optional. Might still be worth thinking about what you plan to name your other spell too, though. And, uh… well, something dramatic, interesting, or extremely personal to you is recommended as well. She doesn't like boring names. She wants a name that makes you feel something to say. Something that matches with the spell, but also with some core part of you. Oh and uh, you can make the spell stronger by making the incantation longer, but only if it's interesting."

Jet nods, contemplating in silence. Chewing on her words. I wait patiently, knowing better than to suggest we head back to Earth before she's done summoning the Goddess all over the place and maybe having something terrible happen to her. But before long, she opens her mouth, and the Goddess growls the words that Jet needed to say most.

"I'm Not Going To Let You Screw This Up Anymore."

Motes of light flicker on around Jet's body, glimmering a soft yellow-white. They multiply, becoming more and more numerous until before long they cover her completely, their colors shifting. A million pixels combine to form a single image: a copy of Jet, one that splits off from her body, separating like the petals of a flower. Jet's tail droops, going limp. Just like Alma's when she's in her house.

The motes of light that have become Alma seem to wake up, ears drooping like I'm used to. She seems to be nothing but light; my spatial sense doesn't detect her at all, and she seems to have no physical presence. Nonetheless, my eyes watch her wake up, her twitchy movements and nervous exactly like the Alma I know. She looks down at herself in confusion, then looks up… and the moment she spots Jet, an expression of unrestrained panic appears on her face immediately.

"No," she whispers.

"...Alma," Jet says quietly. "It's good to meet you face-to-face."

"NO!" Alma shrieks, lunging at Jet's throat. Her illusory hands pass right through her headmate, though, causing Alma to stumble past and somehow turn around looking even more terrified. "GIVE ME MY BODY BACK!"

"I will," Jet scowls, crossing her arms. "I'm not the one trying to kill you, remember? But first, we're going to have a fucking conversation for once."

"Fuck you," Alma hisses. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! What have you done to me? I can't feel anything, I can't—"

"Shut up!" Jet snaps. "You don't get to complain, not after all the time you took from me! Look at me, Alma."

She doesn't. Alma floats helplessly in the air, curled up slightly like a terrified animal. Her eyes point towards the ground.

"That's not my name," Alma whispers. "I'm Autumn. But you had to take that from me, too."

"We're Autumn," Jet growls. "It's my name as much as yours."

Alma says nothing.

"Stop pretending I don't exist," Jet demands.

Alma says nothing.

"Fucking look at me!" Jet shouts, and Alma flinches. By now the whole camp is up and staring, though no one can understand any of it except for Ida. Helen clears her throat.

"...Is she okay?" she asks me quietly.

"Uh, not sure about okay," I hedge. "But I think this has been a long time coming. It's probably good that she's doing this."

"Okay, uh, well we're still on the lookout for people that might be wanting to kill us, so could you ask her to keep her voice down?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," I agree awkwardly. "Hey, Jet? Alma? Helen wants you to keep your voices down, since we're still on the run from cultists and all."

They both snap their heads over to look at me, causing me to shrink down under their glares.

"...And she's the first thing we need to talk about," Jet insists, jerking her thumb at me.

"What is there to discuss?" Alma answers stubbornly.

"She told me you said a lot of things," Jet says. "But have you finally, actually dumped her ass?"

Alma scowls, her expression full of horrid, bitter hatred. It's ugly on what is usually such a beautiful face.

"What does it matter to you, anyway?" Alma asks. "She's my girlfriend. Not yours. You don't get a say in what I do with my relationships. With my life. With my body!"

Jet stomps around her, forcefully placing herself in Alma's line of sight, even leaning over to glare at her downturned expression face-to-face.

"Yes I absolutely fucking do," Jet hisses at her. "I'm just as real as you are."

"So everybody tells me."

"No! You know it. We've co-fronted. You feel me every time we swap. You know me, and I'm on your goddamn side! Just let me help!"

"I don't want your help!" Alma snaps. "I don't want you in my life!"

"Well tough shit!" Jet counters. "I don't wanna clean up after your fucking messes either, but I'm stuck with you and you're stuck with me. So if you'd just put a single iota of effort into making our situation more tolerable, I'd really fucking appreciate that! Do you have any idea how much I work my ass off for you?"

"Yeah, I get it," Alma confirms bitterly. "You're the competent one. The good one. The one who can actually set their mind to things and do them. I'm the useless fuckup that you have to clean up after. I know. Why do you think I hate you so much?"

Jet blinks, working her jaw as she digests an unexpected turn to the conversation.

"...Well, I assumed it was the body autonomy stuff," she admits.

"I mean, yeah, I definitely hate that too," Alma confirms. "I shouldn't need you to handle things for me. I should be a functional human being on my own, but I don't even get a chance to try. Because you're always… you're always there. I don't even get a chance to solve most of my problems."

She lets out an approximation of a shuddering breath, though the air and dust around her doesn't shift at all.

"...Not that I'd accomplish anything," she mutters. "I know that. I'm way too broken to ever get better."

"I don't believe that," Jet insists. "You don't have to resign yourself to the same mistakes forever. You're not stupid, Alma. You know exactly what you need to do."

"Oh yeah, I know exactly what I need to do," Alma mocks. "It's that easy, is it? Just know what to do and do it? What I wouldn't give to live in a utopia like that, where I don't have to put up with my brain constantly screaming at me about every little thing, second-guessing any possible decision, hating itself at every waking moment! I get it, Jet! You're better than me! Now fuck off!"

Jet sighs.

"Alma… that's not what this is about," she pleads. "I just… we can't go on living half of each other's lives without any communication! We need to work together."

"And that's why you think you get a say in my love life, huh?" Alma scowls.

"You know damn well that's not the only reason."

Alma cringes like she accidentally stepped in something foul, curling in more on herself.

"...I never wanted to actually speak to you," she says quietly.

"Yeah, I've sort of picked up on that over the years," Jet scowls.

"I don't want to rely on you," Alma continues. "I don't want to even think about you. I just want you to go away and never come back."

"You want to kill me," Jet says bluntly.

Alma nods guiltily.

"Yes. It's easier to wish for the death of someone you don't know."

"Not in my experience," Jet counters. "I've only ever wanted to kill people we know very well."

Alma looks up at Jet and stares into her eyes for a moment, the cold seriousness in her gaze meaning something to Alma that I can't parse. I feel like an interloper in this entire conversation, an awkward presence that should not be here but doesn't know how to politely leave. Even if I walk away, I'd hear them, and I think Jet actually wants me here so she can pressure Alma into breaking up with me. Which… I'm not exactly sure what to think about. I guess it's probably for the best.

"Well, this is it, then," Alma says glumly. "I'm talking to you. I'm looking at you. You're a person. I get it. What now?"

"Now, we agree on a course of action," Jet says firmly. "About Hannah, about magic, about our body, about… everything."

"I feel like that's going to take a while," Alma grumbles.

"Well," Jet says, gesturing outwards and sitting down, "I've got all night."

Alma grimaces, floating down to also 'sit' on the ground, though her body clips through a few rocks without her even noticing.

"...I think Hannah is going to do better," Alma says.

"And I've heard that one before," Jet counters, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, but Hannah is actually contrite. You wrote about that once, didn't you? You agreed, you thought she was sorry, unlike… the last ones."

I quietly fidget, the awkwardness of being here only increasing.

"Plus, the worst thing she did is mutate our body," Alma continues, "and that's pretty much over and done with. And hey, maybe we'll get to fly!"

"Setting aside what we like and don't like about our new body, the problem is the fact that it was forced onto us in the first place," Jet grunts. "She didn't get consent to change us. I assume she didn't get consent to send us to another universe. What's the next spell she casts and doesn't get consent for, Alma? What's the next non-spell action she doesn't get consent for?"

"It's not like that," Alma insists. "The magic fucks with her head, and—"

"How exactly is that a point in her favor?" Jet cuts her off. "Think, Alma! Think past the chemicals in our brain insisting that you need her at all costs. Is she actually good for you?"

Alma wrings her hands together.

"...We have nice dates," she mumbles. "And I like having magic."

"Well you don't have to date her to keep the magic, we're stuck with that either way," Jet points out.

"I just… don't you want someone that cares, Jet?" Alma asks, a bit of desperation in her tone. "I know she's messed up a few times, but she's apologized and she's really trying, actually really trying. She knows about us, she cares about us, and… and she needs us! We're some of the only people in the whole world with magic, we're special! And it's all thanks to her. It's… it's like what Dr. Karnataki said, with how a relationship is supposed to uplift both sides. I'm not a leech to her, I can actually help."

Jet drums her fingers against her knee.

"...It doesn't matter if she's trying to get better," Jet says softly, "if she's still hurting you right now."

"Well if that's true then it doesn't matter if I try to get better!" Alma barks back. "Why should I even bother if it doesn't matter?"

Jet seems rather unimpressed by this argument.

"Alma, if you and Hannah break up and then both independently get over your issues, I'd have a lot fewer objections to the two of you getting back together again," she says simply. "Short-term issues don't invalidate the need for long-term improvement."

Alma hugs her knees, looking away again.

"...But if I stop getting to see her, I'll stop loving her," she says quietly. "I'll just end up obsessed with someone else instead."

"Well that doesn't really sound like love, does it?" Jet asks.

Alma turns to stare her in the eyes again.

"...It's the closest thing I have, Jet," she says sadly. "And you might believe that I can do better someday, but…"

Her illusory body shudders, and I suspect if it were physical it would be crying tears.

"I don't," Alma finishes. "I don't think I'll ever be anything more than I am right now. And I think if I could even conceive of a version of myself that could do the things I can't, I would just hate her the same way I hate you."

Jet stares at her, sucking on the inside of her cheek.

"...Things really are that bad, huh?" she sighs.

"Yep," Alma confirms with a shrug. "Sorry."

"Well, unfortunately for you this changes nothing," Jet insists. "I still believe in you. You've got a therapist, and you've got me, and I literally can't afford to give up on you. I'm with you forever, thick and thin, rain and shine. That's just how it is."

Alma almost smirks.

"Sucks to be you, doesn't it?" she says.

"Guess so," Jet answers noncommittally. "Next question, then: are we going to keep swaddling up in winter clothes until we boil ourselves to death, or are we going to face the music and go public?"

"We're going to continue swaddling, obviously," Alma frowns. "Hannah's not public yet and we aren't screwing things up for her."

Oh. Wait. That's not true. I clear my throat, causing the two of them to jump slightly.

"Actually, I did end up sprinting through town in full monster mode to come save you guys," I inform them. "So I'm pretty much already public, and I'm planning on leaning into it from here on. Hiding has been exhausting anyway."

"...Oh," Alma says.

"No kidding," Jet agrees. "Question stands, though. I know neither of us would appreciate the attention of joining her in the spotlight."

"Oh, you know that, do you?" Alma scowls. "The main reason I hate attention is because it means I eventually have to explain you."

"...Alright," Jet nods. "In that case, since we'll be working together, you wanna just stretch our wings?"

"Sure," Alma confirms. "Fine."

"Great, that's one off the docket."

"That's two off the docket," Alma scowls.

"Next up: time sharing," Jet continues, ignoring her. "You have a spell that shuts me out. We definitely need to talk about that."

"...I'll just stop using it," Alma grumbles.

"Yeah, that's not a solution and we both know it," Jet grunts. "I don't care if you take time for yourself, I care that you basically deleted an entire week of my life, including taking the times that we previously agreed were for my activities. I've missed two Saturdays in a row, Alma. This was a problem before you got a spell that let you do it as much as you want, too."

…Oh. Saturdays are Jet's. And that's when Alma scheduled our last date. I knew she was taking time from Jet and I never even thought to ask!

"Well as previously mentioned, I'm not going to stop being a fuckup," Alma scowls. "You're just going to have to get used to it."

"...I could do that. Or, we could take advantage of our ability to actually have conversations now and plan things out. If you want to take time to yourself on Saturday, we can be flexible. Hell, depending on what you want to do we might be able to use the spell to give you that time. Even if you can't do much more than see and talk like this, you could still, say, read a book as long as I have a free hand to turn the pages."

"Oh wow, what a fun twist on being forced to become an incorporeal ghost!"

"...Alma, this is in addition to your normal fronting time, and it's optional. How is any of this a bad thing for you?"

She winces.

"Yeah, okay, fair," she mutters. "Sorry, I just… this is really freaky. Not being able to feel anything or breathe or… I don't know. It's surreal. This whole situation is surreal. I can't believe I'm having a chat with my own body."

"Sorry, wanna run that by me again?" Jet says flatly. "You can't believe you're having a chat with…?"

"Ugh. I can't believe I'm having a chat with my headmate Jet, who is just as real as I am and co-owns my body."

"Better," Jet grunts. "You're kind of a bitch though, you know that?"

"Maybe you just bring out the worst side of me," Alma sneers.

"Maybe I am the worst side of you," Jet says jokingly. "Nasty criminal ne'er-do-well that I am."

Alma scoffs.

"The term 'ne'er-do-well' means someone who is a lazy good-for-nothing, not someone who does evil. Common etymological mistake."

"Oh right, I forgot my other half is a fucking book nerd."

"Better than a workout jock," Alma huffs. "The brain is the superior muscle."

Hmm. Uh. The mood suddenly feels different somehow.

"Well, my sincere apologies that this neanderthal couldn't figure out a better way to stop us from becoming homeless than the ancient and well-respected art of Robin Hooding."

"Okay, one, Robin Hood was respected because he stole from the rich and then gave it away rather than keeping it, and two, neanderthals could make and use tools, communicate with language, and were better adapted to cold environments. We might not have even killed them off on purpose; they could have just as easily gone extinct because their superior bodies required too much food, or because they just liked having sex with humans so much that they forgot to reproduce their own species."

What, um. What is happening?

"You're seriously saying the neanderthals went extinct because they couldn't get enough twinkish human ass?" Jet asks incredulously.

"I'm saying that the prevalence of neanderthal DNA in modern humans indicates leads many scientists to believe that interbreeding with humans simply became the more prevalent survival strategy due to environmental conditions, and using 'neanderthal' as an insult is kind of silly considering that most of us partially are one. …But also yeah, neanderthals were short and stocky and buff and we were probably kind of elvish by comparison."

"Twinkish."

"Elvish."

"That's what I said."

"Goddamnit, why are we even talking about this?" Alma asks, though the tiniest, slightest smile is peeking out under her irritation.

"Because I used a magic spell to summon you from the aether to break up with your abusive girlfriend," Jet answers, and the smile drops away as quickly as it came.

"...Right," Alma says flatly.

Well. I think now's my cue. Not necessarily because I should be speaking up here, but because I literally can't comprehend what will happen to my brain if this gets any more awkward. I clear my throat.

"Hello," I say meekly, waving a foreleg. "Abusive girlfriend speaking."

"Hannah, no," Alma scowls. "Jet's blowing this way out of proportion. A few isolated mistakes don't count as abuse, you've been great to me overall."

"Uh… that's not what you said a few hours ago," I remind her.

"Well, don't listen to the Alma from a few hours ago, she was a stupid crazy bitch," Alma snaps, crossing her arms. "Current Alma is the only one who knows what's up."

"See, I'm worried that future Alma might have a few objections about that assessment," I tell her.

"Well, future Alma's a stupid crazy bitch too," Alma insists.

"...Alma, please," Jet sighs.

"I'm serious!"

"Alma, I think Jet is right," I blurt. "I'm not… I'm not safe to be around. I knew that, I've always known that, but I've been dating you anyway because my life has been so horrifically bleak that I just… let myself ignore that for a chance at happiness. But that's not the slightest bit fair to you."

"Shouldn't I be the one that gets to decide what's fair to me?" Alma counters.

"Is it fair to you?" I press. "Is it seriously, actually fair, accounting for the brain problems you've made clear that you do have and that do influence your decision-making? Alma, I yanked you into a deathworld without warning and gave you a day-long panic attack!"

"I mean… it's fine," Alma pouts, looking away. "Nobody got hurt."

"Alma, you killed two people!"

She jolts to attention.

"I did!?"

"She did!?" Jet yelps as well.

"Your spell makes invisible murder traps!" I remind her. "Did you not notice the corpses when we were walking out of your house?"

"I, uh… I was pretty out of it," Alma admits awkwardly. "Who did I kill?"

"I don't really know, it was a pair of cultists," I answer, drumming my legs on the ground. "But do you see what I mean? I am not making your life better."

"I don't think you understand the sheer degree to which my life was awful before," Alma insists. "You are literally the only person I ever talk to."

"That sounds even less healthy," I point out.

"I don't CARE if it's HEALTHY!" Alma snaps. "I will never be healthy! Just help me be happy for once!"

"Alma," I say softly, "am I even any good at that?"

She stares at me. I stare back. She sighs.

"...What does it even matter?" she mutters. "We're tied to you. Forever. Even if I wanted to leave, where would I go? How could I step out of your life knowing the prophet of an evil god hangs out twelve blocks away? How could I just wordlessly go to school after having visited another universe? Who could I reach out to for help with my wings, or my claws, or my ears or my damn awful tail? If I dump you, you won't want to see me again. And I couldn't handle anything on my own before you came along and changed everything."

"You're not alone," Jet chimes in. "I told you, Alma. I'm on your side. I always will be. And now that we can actually talk, now that we can actually interact together, I can prove it to you."

Alma turns to Jet for a moment, a complicated expression on her face, but ultimately doesn't answer, just turning back to me instead.

"...If you really think our relationship is such a bad idea," she says, "you can always just be the one to dump me yourself."

I sigh. I guess I could. It would certainly make things easier, to just make the decision for myself. I'm not sure it'd be the best idea, though. Jet has been pushing Alma to be the one to make the decision for a reason, trying to get her to understand how to deal with what is obviously a long and painful history of abuse. But I'm not really sure if I can or should say any of that.

"I care about you very, very much, Alma," I say instead. "I care about both of you. I don't know if it's love—I haven't really known either of you for very long—but it's undeniable that you're both very important people to me. And while I don't mean to hurt you, and I don't want to hurt you, I have hurt you. I acknowledge that, but I agree with Jet that the fact that you haven't is terrifying. I want to be your friend, but I don't want to be your enabler. And I certainly don't want you to be mine."

A beat of silence passes, Alma's expression completely blank.

"So that's it, then," she says flatly, resignation deep in her words.

"I don't know," I answer. "Is it?"

She sighs, hugging herself. She turns to Jet, and then back to me.

"...Yeah, I guess so," she agrees. "Consider yourself dumped, Hannah."

I bob my body into a nod. It hurts to hear, but that's life.

"I understand," I tell her. "And I'm sorry."

"I know," Alma says glumly. "That was part of the problem. Are we done here, Jet? Not existing doesn't sound so bad right now."

"Yeah," Jet agrees. "I guess we're done here. Talk to you soon?"

"Whatever," Alma mutters. "It's your spell, not mine."

"Okay," Jet nods. "Goodbye for now, Alma."

And then Alma vanishes, once again dispersing into motes of light. Jet's tail twitches once, then curls up, burying what passes for its face into its side.

"Thank you, Hannah," Jet says to me. "It means a lot that you were willing to do that."

Wobble back and forth in my best equivalent of a shrug. I kind of went emotionally numb partway through that conversation, so it hasn't really hit me. I don't… entirely know how to feel about anything right now. How am I supposed to feel about a breakup? Bad, right? And I do, I guess, just… not for any of what I assume are the usual reasons. Alma and I certainly never had a normal relationship. I only started dating her after I started mutating, my life already collapsing into a black hole of insanity, and I basically spent the entire time using her as a desperate emotional outlet for… well, whatever emotions I had at the time. My yearning for normality, for some kind of rock of happiness in a storm of despair, only led to me dragging her into the storm alongside me. And while Alma herself seems to have mixed opinions on whether or not it's a journey that should be regretted, the fact of the matter is that I repeatedly put her at risk for selfish reasons. I never even really understood her until the end. I guess I probably still don't understand her now.

"...Are you ready to head back to Earth?" I ask Jet simply. "Remember: speaking your spell around other people will ensoul them permanently."

"I know," Jet promises. "I won't make your mistakes. Let's go."

I huff, but don't protest. It's a jab I deserve. I hold out a forelimb instead, inviting Jet to grab on. She does, and I let the magic that links me between universes flow, pulling her into my soul. She vanishes, and I barely have the time to groggily stagger over next to Kagiso before I pass out and wake up, once again, in Valerie's house.

"Holy shit," Valerie swears, Jet appearing in the room an instant before I wake up. "Alma? Hannah? Oh god, you're finally awake!"

"Goddess," I mumble groggily. "How long was I out?"

"And, uh, not Alma, by the way," Jet corrects.

"Oh, sorry," Valerie nods. "You were unconscious for over an hour, Hannah, I couldn't wake you at all."

"Mmmn. Longer than last time," I realize. "Ida was right. Prolly have to recharge the spell or something."

"...Where is Ida, anyway?" Valerie asks.

"Still in the other world," I answer. "I can only take one person at a time, and we chose Autumn. And I guess we have to figure out how long I need between casts to not zonk out for ages, too."

I slowly get up, pushing against the bed with the flat of my blade-limbs to raise myself into a sitting position with a yawn.

"She's okay, though?" Valerie presses.

"She's alive," I confirm. "Everyone's alive. Uh. Except a whole bunch of cultists, I guess. Did you know Ida brought a gun?"

"I… yes, I did know that," Valerie confirms. "Did you not know that?"

"I was distracted," I answer defensively, standing up and stretching. "So… ugh. It's what, like two o'clock on Sunday still? Bleh, time is getting weird. Anyway, anyone wanna go to Academy with me?"

Jet and Valerie both stare at me in confusion.

"...Y'know, the camping supply store?" I clarify, heading for the stairs. "Academy Sports-plus-Outdoors? The cultists didn't really want to give us our tents back after Helen disintegrated a big hole in their base and turned into a dinosaur."

"What?" Valerie manages, following me up the stairs. "Hannah, what the fuck happened!?"

"I'll tell you on the way," I promise her, still stretching my various limbs as I reach for the front door.

"Wait," she presses. "Are you going out like that?"

"Well yeah, why not?" I ask. "Extra limbs will help with carrying everything. We need like… three sleeping bags, at least two tents, probably a bunch of food…"

I trail off, trying to think of the best sorts of food to send between dimensions. Earth food might make fantasy people super sick, right? I have to be careful about what all is actually in the stuff. Plus, Kagiso needs fruits and vegetables but Helen's only going to be able to eat meat. Hmm…

"So this is it, then?" Valerie presses. "You're outing yourself for good? No going back?"

I think about everyone who's already seen me, how pointless it would be to try to stop the inevitable now. I think about my mom, and how I'm definitely half-investing myself in this task just to avoid going home. I think about all the people I killed today, realizing that I will very soon start to lose count of everyone who has lost their life because of me. And I shrug.

"Going back was never possible in the first place," I say. "I'm not human. And if someone has a problem with that, well… I have bigger things to be afraid of."

Valerie looks me in the eyes, my neck having to crane up as usual to meet her gaze, and she gives me a single, firm nod. I smile. At least she'll always always be in my corner. Heck, she likes the creepy body modification stuff.

"I named my transform-other spell, by the way," I tell her. "And you're definitely gonna end up with big boobs. No shot you won't. So. Uh. Look forward to that?"

"Oh," she blinks, stepping out of her front door together with me. "Great? Any idea what I'll actually be?"

I frown in thought, checking on her organs with my spatial sense. She's got claws, she's got an elongating spine… hmm, thickening, too. What sort of monster would represent my best friend?

"I was sort of hoping you'd be excited for it to be a surprise," I admit, "because I have no idea. I guess I can always just skip you to the end now, though. The spoken version makes the transformation way faster."

"Hmm…" she hums in thought. "...Nah. I honestly like the idea of it shifting little by little. The process is a big part of what makes transformation so interesting."

I chuckle, a bit of the coiled tension hiding at the back of my mind easing thanks to Valerie's very Valerie answer. She really is the most important person in the world to me.

…

Hmm.

"...Hey, Val?" I ask softly.

"Yeah?" she prompts.

"Don't ever let me get away with hurting you, okay?"

She gives me a serious stare, and a short, firm nod.

"You know I won't."

I smile. I guess I do, don't I?

"Thank you, Valerie."

I spend the rest of the walk to the store telling Valerie about what happened treeside, collecting endless stares along the way. But I don't have to care. With her here, I can ignore every terrible thought, at least for a little while longer.