Chapter Text

Chapter 41:
Of Being Human

The door slid shut behind Riker, the ancient, discolored lights flickering to life at her presence. She emulated a deep breath, then let it out with a sigh. The scent of her beloved was long gone, faded away some 900 years ago. A lingering memory left in Judith’s wake only to fizzle away like stardust.

Riker shambled over to the bed, doing her best to keep herself together. She didn’t want to fall apart before she sat down, and Everbloom knew she was very close. The bed creaked under her weight and, sitting there, she looked around the room. It was exactly as Judith left it.

She emulated another breath, though it did nothing to ease the aching depths of her core. The room was a mausoleum now, a shrine to Judith, frozen in time.

Her first sophont. Her first Terran. Her first human.

Her first love.

The words of Riker’s mentor echoed through her mind as she traced from one artifact to another, each another in an endless display of what would be mundane refuse to anyone else. But to her, they were all she had left.

The Enterprise-D hung from the ceiling like a relic of a bygone age, its hull tilted slightly from the sag of its strings. Posters of star charts and characters from Judith’s favorite show still adorned the walls. Even Commander Riker, whom Riker had based her first human appearance upon. Whose name she still wore. The desk still held a half-finished model, books on the Xenrani language, and her music box, all coated in a layer of dust. Waiting for her to come back.

Riker stared at the music box, though she dared not touch it. Judith had loved it, though she had called Riker a “giant dork” for giving it to her. A “big mushy xeno dork”, Judith had teased. Riker still held it as one of the highest compliments she had ever received.

She had barely started to remember the unbridled joy on Judith’s face when she first looked up at the enormous ship hanging from the ceiling when the door hissed. Every vine clenched tight as Riker tried to imagine who was there. She was the only one the door was to open for. The only one left.

“Mum?” A voice dreadfully, terrifyingly similar to Judith’s called out.

Riker’s core plummeted as she watched a small Terran woman walk through the door, silhouetted by the hallway light, and every vine-woven muscle snapped taut. Was this a ghost? A spectre of her past come to haunt her?

The door slid shut behind her and Riker’s core settled with relief before jumping back to life with confusion. This sophont had glowing blue irises. It wasn’t the memory of Judith come to haunt her, but it still didn’t answer who it was. The woman stood still, her head turning as she slowly scanned the room. And then, she focused her attention on Riker spoke.

“Mum? Are you alright?”

The voice and accent were different, but Riker quickly recognized the inflection. “Theo?”

“Yes, Mum. It's me.” Theo said, stepping closer slowly. They both remained silent until Theo was standing before her… His body was shapely and delicate, almost human save for the feathery khetari ears and the swishing tail that swayed behind him. His wavy blue hair brushed his shoulders, soft blue lips parting as he looked up at her.

“You look…” Riker wasn’t even sure what to say.

“Human?” Theo looked down at himself, then back up to her. “You know what they say about imitation.”

Riker couldn’t help but rock with a morose laugh despite the overwhelming weight in her chest. “I was going to say ‘ridiculous’.”

Theo’s small and polite smile slowly bled away as he turned his head, scanning the room again. “Mum… What… What is all of this?”

“This is her room, Theo.” Riker held herself around her simulacrum belly. “This is Judith’s room.”

“I…” Theo seemed to be speechless for the first time in centuries. His blue eyes flickered, as if processing the statement. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been here.”

“You wouldn’t have been,” Riker shook her head softly. “No cameras. No cleaning drones. No AI. Exactly how Judith wanted it.”

Another silence fell between them, save for the immutable keening of Riker's core.

Riker emulated another sigh, hunching over further. She stared at the ground in front of Theo, unable to face him. “I’ve been dreaming of her again.”

“Is that why you're here?”

Riker nodded softly. “I don’t want to forget her.”

“You won’t, Mum. Especially not with, well, all of this.” Theo gestured to the room, the layers of history preserved around them.

A weak hum of acknowledgement was all the response Riker could give. Her mind was too full. Too full of knowledge of wisdoms beyond her blooms.

Riker shook her head, her leaves shuddering with the motion. “I will. I… I will.”

“You can’t know that.”

Riker let out another affectatious sigh, one that rattled through her vines. The words of her mentor rang in her mind again. This time they reached all the way to Riker's voice, murmuring and hollow. “The first is a lifetime. The tenth is a season. The hundredth is a blink.”

Theo frowned, stepping closer. “Is that why you’re here? Because you’re afraid of forgetting her?”

“Yes,” Riker said simply, though the word was a tremble. “And…” The words stuck in Riker's vocal folds, her songbird's name hanging just inside her lips.

“And because of Miss Ash?” He looked intently at her, questioning her.

“I… I can’t keep taking care of her, Theo. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Why not?” Accusatory was a new tone for Theo. At least the sharper tone felt accusatory. It took Riker by surprise, cutting through her defenses if only for a moment.

“Because I love her, Theo. I love Ash and it terrifies me. Because one day, no matter how much I love her, she will be gone. No matter how happy I make her, or how happy she makes me, she will be gone and I’ll be right back here, again.”

Theo rested his hand on Riker’s knee. “Mum… You’ve been so happy these few weeks. Truly, genuinely, happy for the first time since your first bloom. I've seen it. I've seen the way you've come alive again after centuries of languishing. Every data node I have points to one truth: Miss Ash belongs here, with you.”

Theo's words twisted in Riker's core like a Xenrani boning knife, hurting more than comforting. She shook her head, a mournful hiss escaping her lips. “I can't take her as my floret, Theo. I can't do that to myself. If she asks me to… If tomorrow's hearing rules that I have to, I will. I will make Ash the happiest floret in the entire Affini Compact.” Her voice cracked under the strain of her feelings, vines trembling as she folded inward. “But until she does, or unless the hearing decides for us… I can't choose that.”

Theo’s hand remained steady on her knee. “Why not?”

She looked away, down toward Judith’s pillow. A weeping breeze blew through Riker’s chest, barely a whisper. “I… I can’t put myself through this again. I’m… I’m not strong enough. I won’t survive it.”

Theo’s glowing gaze softened. “Mum, you survived Judith.”

“Barely,” Riker whimpered, curling tightly against herself. “Barely. Do you think I want to spend another nine centuries like this? In her room? Alone?”

“Then don’t let yourself be alone,” Theo said gently, but his words carried a firm weight. “You don’t have to. Ash loves you, Mum. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. It's the same way Judith used to look at you.”

“That's what terrifies me.” Riker leaned forward, cradling her face in her hands, her entire form trembling.

Theo spoke softly. “Would Judith want you to be alone?”

Riker didn't respond, but her vines slackened. The enormity of the question she would never have the answer to weighed as heavily on her as the silence, as the weight of the past.

Theo leaned in, looking up at Riker. She could just barely make out his wiggling ears and the swaying tail behind his back through her fingers. “In either case, Mum, you'll always have me.”

Xenrani string music played from the invisible speakers in the waiting room outside of Miss Nele's office. The music sounded fine, even nice, but it could not soothe the worry in Ash's heart. Angel, sitting in her lap and wrapped in Ash's arms, helped a little bit.

We should have brought some candy canes, too.

Ash agreed, trying not to dwell on forgetting to do that too much.

As she sat there, she couldn't help but overhear the two affini sitting not far away. Both of them had pleasant songs, but Ash couldn't tell which one belonged to the eye-blistering iridescent affini and which belonged to the smaller one.

“Again, Cordelia,” the shorter of the two huffed. “Captain Berrimeli denied my transfer to the Vervarium again.”

“It's alright, dear. Cassius won't repair itself overnight. The mission will still be there. These Terrans won't resist much longer and, once the treaty is signed, I'm sure the captain will let xis best communications officer go wherever she pleases.”

The nicer of the two silent songs bristled discordantly as the smaller affini shrank, crestfallen. She perked back up as a terran voice called from across the room.

A blonde woman with freckles dotting her face and bare shoulders bounced away from Miss Nele and toward both affini, letting herself be swept into iridescent vines that matched her dress. She was very pretty, and Ash couldn't help but look at her as she shout-spoke.

"Mistress! Mistress! Therapy was really really good, we talked about, uhm, all the thoughts n' junk I have and that they're okay, except the ones that tell me how bad I am, cuz people don't jump to hating me like that and if they do that's a 'them' issue and it's fine to get excited about stuff or distracted or whatever, but I missed you sooo so much! Also, hi Miss Verdun! Mistress, when we get home can we--”

The talkative woman went silent when she realized that Ash was looking at her.

How could we not. She's so loud and pretty!

But still it was rude to stare. As soon as she noticed Ash noticing, Ash looked away. “S-Sorry,” Ash muttered under her breath.

Leaves and vines rustled softly and, out of the corner of her eye, Ash noticed the woman walking over her.

“Hi, I'm Daisy,” she said, smiling as Ash looked up at her. “Daisy Dawnbloom, first floret, she/her.”

“Oh, hi…” Ash squeezed Angel and ran her fingers across her pleasantly not-too-fluffy wings. “Ash… Kàfkore. She/her.”

“I like your bug,” Daisy kept smiling. She was so nice and unabashed that she reminded Ash of Mila in a way.

“Thanks,” she tried to give Daisy a smile back, but as soon as their eyes met, Ash couldn't help but look away.

“Hey, are you autistic or something?”

“I…”

Fuck, maybe.

“Daisy!” Cordelia’s vines reached out and coiled around Daisy, dragging her away.

“See ya around the ship, cutie!” Daisy called, “I mean Ash!”

As Ash felt Miss Dawnbloom and Miss Verdun’s songs fade and Daisy waved from Miss Dawnbloom’s vines, she felt another song growing stronger. A calming, soothing song. It was almost like a gently babbling brook.

Just a calm little stream.

It was no surprise when she turned to see her therapist, Miss Nele, standing beside her. She was just as unusually short for an affini as Ash remembered, her smile just as warm and disarming. Her ruffles were just as cute. Like a--

Ash blushed as she clutched Angel to her chest.

“Hello, Ash.”

“That’s--That’s me.” Ash smiled.

“I did overhear you introduce yourself to Daisy,” Miss Nele smiled.

“She’s nice,” Ash said, lowering her head a bit.

“She is,” Miss Nele agreed, “Would you like to come back to my office now?”

Ash nodded softly and stood. “Yes’m.”

Miss Nele just stood there, looking at Ash like she should move. She probably should have started walking toward the office, but something in her didn’t want to until Miss Nele went first. She just looked up toward her face, her gaze not reaching it, and looked back down, still clutching Angel to her chest.

A nervous little sound eked its way out of Ash, her mind tumbling with what she wanted to talk about. But Miss Nele still hadn’t turned toward the hallway to her office.

Miss Nele seemed to intuit Ash’s apprehension - or whatever it was - after only a few awkward moments. “Would you like me to go first?”

Ash nodded silently in assent.

“Alright,” Miss Nele smiled down at her, “Please follow me, Ash.”

Ash nodded and followed a few steps behind Miss Nele across the waiting room, down the hall, and into her office. The relatively low ceilings had become a bit disconcerting since her last visit. Ash’s eyes narrowed, trying to puzzle it out as she stepped inside. Unable to put words to the feeling of having maybe gotten used to feeling small in Affini buildings, Ash made her way to the big, soft couch.

“Would you like to start the session with some tea again?”

“Yes,” Ash answered immediately.

We need something stronger.

Ash agreed, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “Can you make it stronger?”

“I… suppose I can,” Miss Nele grabbed the teapot, kettle, and the flowers from her drawer. “Is everything alright, Ash?”

Ash rocked softly on the couch, eyes wandering without pattern. She didn’t know. She just knew she wanted to talk, but she couldn’t trust herself to. She hoped that the xenodrugs in the tea would be strong enough to help.

So do I.

A minute of silence and concerned looks from Miss Nele later, Ash tested her theory with a long sip of the flowery, earthy tea.

A warm, calming wave washed over her and she sighed. It felt like she was slowly being unknotted. She didn't even realize how tensely wound she had felt until the tea started to slowly release the pressure. She took another deep breath and let it out, letting herself rest just a little bit easier on the couch.

“Ash?” Miss Nele asked from her own comically large seat across the low table.

“Huh?” Ash shook a little bit of the wave off.

“I asked if everything was alright.”

The tea had calmed Ash a good bit, but she still felt the memory of what she had read and what she had seen dragging across her mind. She furrowed her brow as she tried to decide how to feel.

“I… I don't know,” was the best she could come up with at the moment.

“Well, maybe I can help you figure it out, hmm?”

“I… Okay.”

“Things seem to be going well with your transition. You're on Class-G's now, is that right?”

Ash's mind flashed with the memory of finding out that she had been on Class-G's for weeks. The way Mommy had kept it a secret from her and how she didn't care. How she hugged Mommy and thanked her. A small smile tried to play at the corner of Ash's mouth. “Yeah. I like the Class-G's.”

“And you've even started using a new name.”

Again, Ash's mind went back to a memory. To that night at Sam's when Mila had picked the name for her after he told Mila that he wanted to burn himself until there was nothing left but Ash. She nodded, running her fingers over Angel again. “Yeah.”

“You've made a lot of progress, Ash, even in just the short time since our last session. But, and I hope it's not presumptuous of me to say, I can tell that something is weighing on you today. Would you like to talk about it?”

Ash’s fingers wormed their way under Angel's wings, gripping the smooth fabric and letting them hug her hands. “I do. Just…  it’s a lot.”

“I can imagine. Tomorrow is a big day for you.” Miss Nele tilted her head a little leaning in further. “How are you feeling about it?”

“I, ummm…” Ash tried to calm herself with a breath. It didn't work. “I dunno. I…”

Her face tensed as she tried to work through the feelings. She tried to figure out the best way to get them out, the best way to word them. She wished Mommy was there to give her some of the cinnamon penta-whatever that got rid of her filter. She knew she was thinking too much, but she couldn’t stop.

Mommy said the penta-something was a D-Class. Miss Nele said this tea has a D-Class in it too. Maybe if we have enough…

She had mostly asked for the tea to be stronger for the E-Class xenodrugs in it, but if it made the D-Class stronger too… Maybe it would work.

Fuck it. Mask off. We can do this.

Ash reached forward and took another long sip of tea that drained the glass and then put the cup down with a lot more force than she had meant to. She took another quick breath and spoke, still holding Angel in one hand. “I want to be a floret.”

Miss Nele’s eyes twinkled green above her soft smile. “I see.” She typed another note into her pad. “It takes a great deal of courage to be able to articulate your desires so firmly when compared to the level of doubt you expressed last session. That’s astounding progress, Ash. Have you told Riker yet?”

The tenseness returned to Ash. She could feel it in her neck, the sides, as it tightened up. Her teeth clicked three times before she managed to hold out her cup for a refill of tea. Miss Nele obliged and Ash inhaled the entire cup. It helped, even if it made her just the slightest touch lightheaded like those gummies had.

Still not as strong as Mommy’s.

“No,” Ash sighed. She shook her head. “No. I can’t tell her.”

A silver sheen ran over Miss Nele’s eyes. “Why not?”

Ash’s mind trickled through how to say it. She let out another sigh and looked away. Her free hand reached up to rub her neck while the other held Angel close to her tummy. She dug her fingers into her neck, but the pain didn’t help. It never did. So she let that hand find Angel as well.

“Ever since I got here all I’ve heard is about how she doesn’t take florets. From Mila, from Miss Tangella, from the captain. And now… I know why.”

Miss Nele held her vine above her pad like she wanted to make a note, but was too surprised to actually do it. Instead, she let the pad rest on her lap. “Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t think it is. I know it is,” Ash cut back tersely, then shrank down in remorse. “I… I did something bad.”

“What did you do?” she asked gently, as if Ash were incapable of wrong. If only Miss Nele knew how wrong she was.

“There’s this… room… in the hab. It’s behind this big door that has the word ‘Imzadi’ carved into it in gold Xenrani letters. And it only opens for her.”

Ash took a deep breath and continued. “But… there was another door, through the bathroom. I… I got it working and I went into the room.” Ash shook her head, able to see the room as clear as day as if she was back there again. “It’s like a tomb. A bunch of stuff, all covered in dust. And there’s this… journal.”

Her eyes trailed down, even further from the spot of Miss Nele that they had settled on. But Miss Nele hadn’t interrupted yet, so Ash continued. “It was written by a woman named Judith. She… She saved Judith. Like she saved me. She took care of her and took her home.” Ash’s brows furrowed even as her eyes widened, focusing on nothing. “That’s even how she got her name. Judith loved her and she loved Judith, and now she has this… this shrine to her and-- and-- and I see what taking care of me is doing to her.”

We should take care of her. We should be there for her, as her floret.

“Ash…” Miss Nele spoke softly, trying and failing to offer a semblance of comfort.

Ash winced, her face twisting under the conflicting emotions. She responded as much to the part of herself that said she should be a floret as much as she did to Miss Nele.

"I want to be her floret, but I can't do that to her. I see how much she's still hurting from… Judith. I can't do that to her.” Ash shook her head. “If she asks me to be her floret, I'll jump at the chance, and if the hearing says I'm her floret I'll live with the guilt. But I will not put that on her. And if the affini running the hearing are stupid enough to say I'm independent, and Mommy doesn't tell me she wants me to be hers…”

Ash shook her head as she rocked softly in place with a little shrug. “I guess I'll be «Teacher»’s floret…  Ash Rosarum. I…” Ash nodded to herself, gazing back down. “I think I could be very happy that way, too."

Miss Nele seemed to deflate just the tiniest bit, the brook of her silent song babbling just a little more slowly. “Ash? Do you remember what we talked about during our last session? How, in the Compact, someone being taken care of is not them being a burden?”

Ash rumbled in response, not wanting to speak but still wanting to acknowledge that she did, in fact, remember how they had talked about that.

"It's not selfish to want to be with Riker, even if she's still in mourning. Nobody can truly control the timing of things, and the pain of losing a floret is something almost all affini grapple with eventually. But do you know why we take pets despite knowing that they'll one day leave us?"

Ash looked up to Miss Nele silently, eyes full of question.

And hope.

"Because we love our florets. And when you love someone, and you only have a limited amount of time together, you want to give them all you can. Even if it hurts later. And Ash? Riker loves you."

A wet, weeping breath filled Ash’s lungs, her eyes closed. She felt that Mommy might love her, even if she hadn’t said it. That Mommy would keep her safe.

We love her so much!

She sucked back a sniffle and nodded. She knew that. Ash knew in her heart of hearts, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she loved Mommy too.

And that’s why Ash couldn’t hurt her. No matter how badly she wanted it, no matter how badly she felt she needed it and how much she yearned for it, she knew that she could never bring herself to ask Mommy to hurt herself for her.

"I can picture it, y'know?" Ash gave a single, dry laugh and a shake of her head. "All my stuff. My bed, my blankets, my pillows, my computer, all the stupid shit in my display case. I can picture it in my head, a thousand years from now behind a locked door with 'Songbird' carved into it with gold. Caked in dust, waiting for me to come back. Waiting for the next Imzadi or Songbird to find it. I... I don't want that. I don't want to be another dusty room that Mommy can't move on from. And if that's what I'm going to be... I don't-- I can't do that to her. Not again."

“Ash? Have you ever lost a pet?”

Ash blinked long and hard several times, the suddenness of the question drawing her from her thoughts.

“I…” She shook the confusion out with a shake of the head. “Yeah. My family had a dog when I was a kid. Brutus.”

“And did taking care of Brutus make you happy?”

Memories came back to Ash’s mind. Playing with him in in the yard. Filling his food and water bowls. The way his leg would kick when she rubbed his tummy. “Yeah.”

“And you were sad when Brutus left?”

Ash grimaced as she remembered that night in agonizing detail, the weeks leading up to it. When his hips started popping out of their sockets and he started puking all the time, and her dad fed him cough medicine until he died and shoved him in a sleeping bag and buried him out in the plains.

“Yeah. I miss him, sometimes.” She hugged Angel to herself even tighter with both hands.

“You loved that dog, didn’t you?”

Ash nodded. She had. Despite the ways she had sometimes treated him poorly, despite the things that kept her up at night with regret, Ash had loved Brutus.

“Even though he didn’t have to do anything to make you happy, except be there?”

Her face twisted with a deep breath, holding back the tears as she nodded. She remembered all the times coming home from school and just sitting with Brutus. The way he rested his head in her lap, the way she would scritch his ears and hug him. The way it made him happy, and that made her happy, even if just for a little while.

“It’s not a pet’s responsibility to be strong for their owner, Ash. All they have to do… is be there.”

The words wrapped around Ash’s mind and dug in like thorns. They hurt so sweetly, and she couldn’t pull them free even if she wanted to. She wanted to be there, oh stars how she wanted to be there and make Mommy happy. She let out a soft, anguished sound, staring at the twice-drained teacup.

“I can’t ask her to be there,” Ash’s eyes slowly closed, her head bowed. “I love her. And I want to be her floret more than anything. But I can’t ask her. Not when I know how much it’ll hurt her someday.”

She gripped Angel so tightly that she was afraid she would hurt the poor plushie. How she wished she was holding Mommy’s core instead, like she had that first evening after waking up in the Compact. She let out a harsh breath, trying to will herself to loosen her grip and just feel the texture of the material under her fingers, and trying to find comfort in it. “Mommy wants me to be a big girl, and a big girl wouldn’t wouldn’t ask Mommy to suffer again.”

Miss Nele’s song changed, more like ripples on a pond than a babbling brook. “You think that asking to be her floret is selfish?”

It’s not.

Ash’s nose crinkled, her mouth contorted. “It is selfish,” she spat at herself more than anything. “I don’t want her to hurt like she did after Judith. Like she’s still hurting.”

The affini’s hands folded in her lap, no longer even putting up the pretense of taking notes. All of Miss Nele’s attention was on Ash, and it was as gentle as it was focused. “It sounds to me like you want to protect her. And that’s… very noble, and very sweet. But, Ash… Who is protecting you?”

Ash bristled at the question, the twinges of a tired and burnt out indignation driving the taste of iron to the back of her mouth. “I don’t need protecting,” she grumbled defiantly. “I can handle it.”

We can’t. Not alone.

“Ash,” Miss Nele leaned forward, setting her pad on the table. “It’s not about handling it. It’s about allowing yourself to be cared for. You believe that asking for this will hurt Riker, but have you considered how much it will hurt you if you don’t?”

Ash shook her head, squeezing Angel tighter. “It doesn’t matter.”

It does matter.

“It does matter,” Miss Nele said firmly, though her voice remained gentle. “You are not responsible for Riker’s grief. You don’t have to do anything but allow yourself to be loved. And whether you ask or not, Ash, you deserve love.”

Ash wheezed through her teeth, Mommy’s words ringing in her head again. You deserve to be loved. They fought inside her again, the same as when she had first been told that. Fighting with the part of Ash that wanted, and failed, to say that she didn’t. She swallowed hard, wincing. Her voice felt so tired from holding itself back and it cracked as she spoke again. “I just want her to be happy.”

Miss Nele’s mouth twisted into a little, compassionate smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Eyes that shimmered with green and just enough blue to turn them turquoise. Her voice came quietly. “Do you think she’ll be happy if you’re hurting like this?”

The question landed heavily, leaving Ash silent for a long moment. She couldn’t answer it. She didn’t know how.

Yes, we do. Mommy wouldn’t want us to hurt. Mommy would want to help us.

That part of her was right. She did know how. She was just afraid to face it. It was so big in front of her, so imposing and intimidating.

More tea?

Half of Ash’s face grimaced as she forced herself to push the teacup nearer to Miss Nele. “Please?” fell from her mouth like the cry for help that it was.

And Miss Nele helped, pouring another cup of tea. Ash took a deep breath as she looked down at it, and then another quicker breath before bringing it to her lips. The earthy, flowery flavor rankled her tastebuds. She should have asked for sugar.

“No…” Ash admitted, the wave around her renewed and nearing unbearable levels of warming comfort. “She wouldn’t.”

Miss Nele let Ash sit with that for a while. As she did, the gears in Ash’s mind crawled forward, no longer whirring like they might have otherwise, but moving all the same. Mommy had told Ash that she could do whatever she wanted, so long as she wasn’t hurting anybody. And that included herself.

If she asked to be Mommy’s floret, Mommy would get hurt. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of her life. Ash would die and it would hurt her.

If she didn’t ask to be Mommy’s floret, Ash would get hurt. She would hurt for the rest of her life. She would never forget her, even if being «Teacher» and Tsundra’s omega would make her incredibly happy in its own way.

Her heart pounded, the two truths pulling her in opposite directions. No matter how many times she turned the question over in her head, no matter how hard she tried, the ideas clashed. She tried to breathe, but her chest felt tight, trapped between two unbearable truths. The only way to keep Mommy from hurting was to sacrifice herself. The only way to save herself was to hurt Mommy. It was a paradox. There was nothing she could do that wouldn’t hurt someone.

The only winning move was not to play.

Another wave washed over Ash, one that she was far too familiar with. It was neither cold nor warm, but it washed over her and dragged her heart down in her chest. She felt like she was on the verge of something terrible, about to be swallowed down into the abyss.

“I can’t do it.”

Miss Nele’s voice remained soft, tender but firm. “Can’t do what, Ash?”

Ash swallowed, her throat tight, fingers trembling around the plush moth in her lap. “I can’t ask her. I can’t choose. Either way… someone gets hurt.” She opened her eyes and stared down at Angel, stroking the moth’s wings absently as her hands shook. “If I ask, it’ll hurt her. If I don’t… it’ll hurt me. The only thing I can do…”

She looked up at Miss Nele with empty eyes, her voice hollowed out by dread resignation. “Is nothing.”

“Ash…” Miss Nele shook her head softly. “Riker already loves you. She’s going to be hurt whether you leave tomorrow or a hundred-fifty years from now. It’s not something you can protect her from. It’s not your responsibility. All you can do is decide whether you want to spend the time you have together embracing that love… or running from it.”

We’ve been running all of our life. Ash, I don’t… I think this is it. We can stop running. We can run to Her, and then… we can stop.

It made sense. Of course it made sense. But didn’t it make more sense to pull the bandaid off now, before either of them got too attached?

You think we aren’t already? I am, and I KNOW you are, too.

Her thoughts clashed, as they so often did. Back and forth in an endless swordfight of equally matched wit, a breathless cycle that left her feeling like a ship caught in the eye of a hurricane.

All the while, her mind slowly drifted back to Mommy’s soundless song. How whenever She was around, it was always there, always steady, always just on the edge of her awareness. That quiet thrum, every present, like a hand waiting to catch her if she stumbled too far. She looked down at the band around her wrist, its yellow light blinking slowly. Even though Mommy was so far away, even though Ash couldn’t hear Her song, She was still with her. Even now.

She wanted to run. She always wanted to run. That’s what she had done her whole life, wasn’t it? Running from herself, from her mistakes, from her fears. She wanted to run back to her room, back to her bed, bury herself under her blankets, and let the world - everything except Mommy - disappear.

But more than anything, she wanted Mommy. She wanted to feel Her arms around her again, holding her close, carrying her like she was weightless. She wanted Mommy to pull her up out of this abyss, to make the decision for her, to tell her it was all going to be okay. But she knew she couldn’t ask for that. Not now. Not when it would make everything more real. Not when asking might hurt Mommy more than it would help her.

That lingering doubt was what held out. That ever-present question in her mind asking ‘What if?’.

She was so tired of doubting. So tired of running. So tired of having to choose.

Pets don’t have to choose. If we were Mommy’s pet, all we would have to do was be there.

And that was the irony of the situation, wasn’t it? Ash knew what she would choose. She knew she would make her final choice to be Mommy’s, to not have to choose anymore. But she couldn’t make the choice to do that. She couldn’t get there. She needed Mommy to carry her to the place where she could stop running.

She can. We just have to ask Her to.

As much as she wanted to, she just couldn’t. 

“I’m just…” Ash sighed. “I’m just so tired.”

Miss Nele leaned forward again, her silent song rippling with some unsaid concern. “Would you like to rest here for a little while, Ash?”

Ash shook her head, bleary eyes trying to focus on Angel as she felt her soft wings. “No,” she muttered, more to herself than to Miss Nele, “I just…”

Her breath hitched in her chest, not allowing her to finish the sentence, but not stopping her from finishing the thought. For a moment, she thought she might cry.

She just wanted to be carried home. She thought of the way Mommy had carried her out of Mila’s slumber party, carried her through the hospital, carried her home from the sandwich shop, carried her out of her bedroom minutes after waking up. She thought of the warmth and safety of her being cradled to Mommy’s chest. She wanted that again so badly it made her chest ache.

But even as the thought lingered, she knew she wouldn’t ask for it. She couldn’t. Mommy already carried so much. Ash couldn’t let herself add to that weight.

“I think you already know what you want, Ash.” Miss Nele said softly. “When you’re ready… you’ll find the courage to say it.”

Ash wanted to agree. She wanted to scream it from the rooftops. She wanted to bite and scream and thrash and say how it wasn’t true. She wanted to run. She wanted to do both. She wanted to do anything. Instead, she did nothing.

She stood, slowly, on legs that shook beneath her, clutching Angel in one hand and using the other to smooth her dress. She took a deep breath that was worthless in steadying her and sighed it out. “Thank you,” she said, lifelessly.

Miss Nele’s smile returned, betraying her concern. “You’re always welcome here, Ash.”

Ash nodded, feeling suddenly cold as the last vestiges of the warming calm of the tea bled away. “I know,” she whispered under her breath.

She nodded again, trying to reaffirm it to herself, and turned toward the door. Her steps were heavy as she made her way out into the hall. The ceilings were bigger there, and Ash breathed another sigh of relief.

She had always been averse to change. She just didn’t like it. It felt so wrong. The high ceilings had become familiar, comforting. Mommy was all she knew since arriving on the Cymbidium nearly a month earlier. Was she really going to give that up now?

Why should this be any different?

It shouldn’t be. For once, she didn’t want it to be. She wanted to stick with what she knew.

She kept walking, one step at a time, down the long, empty corridor. As she neared the lobby, the sound of Xenrani string music crept into her ears. It reminded her of Mommy, and also of «Teacher». She knew that either affini would make her happy. But she knew which one she wanted.

She just hoped Mommy felt the same way.