Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Digital Circus was as far removed from reality as one could get. Nothing in it made sense, or felt real, or did anything even close to meaningful.

It made adventures a decent way to pass the time. H[OINK], every now and then, it was almost fun.

But the real problems in the circus - the only problem that ever actually mattered - were the ones that lived inside you.

Eventually, internal agonies would eat you alive.

And leave it to Caine, the [BEEP]ing genius he pretends to be -

To make an AI that can abstract.

Jax rounded the corner full speed, barely dodging the mess of eyes and monster behind him, and cursed Ming with everything in him. Of course the stupid 'made to prove Caine's point' character would abstract in the middle of his lecture.

Of course he went right after Jax.

"Grudges don't suit you, Ming!" he called behind himself. Not that the creature could understand him, but he had to try for the joke anyway. "You make one comment about Ming's a[SPLORT] and suddenly you're the bad guAAAA-"

Jax yelped as he crashed into a flowerpot. In an instant his ire switched to Zooble. God, wasn't this just perfect; they leave their stuff everywhere out of spite and it gets him killed. He scrambled to his feet again, wincing at the pain. He had to go, that thing was right on top of him.

A heavy paw slammed into the remains of the pot.

Oh, it was literally right on top of him.

"Hey!" a voice shrieked nearby. Jax jolted to attention, whirling in place. He really couldn't afford to take his eyes off the Abstraction - a foot away, inches away from touching him - but he couldn't stop himself.

He never could, when it came to Pomni.

"Ming!" Pomni called again. She waved her arms above her head for good measure, as though she didn't have all its' eyes locked on her already. "Over here!"

No, no nono-

The Abstraction lunged. Jax had just enough time to throw himself to the floor.

Maybe it was part of the unreality of this world, or sheer dumb luck, that it dove straight over him. That it went for Pomni instead of the easy target at its' feet. The smart thing to do now would be to turn tail and flee. Leave the stupid jester to her fate.

Jax bolted upright, heart in his throat, and went bounding after them.

To her credit, Pomni's short legs didn't slow her down at all. Wasting her breath on screaming, maybe, but it's not like they really had breath to waste. She dodged and ducked and weaved, even as the creature gained on her. He ought to feel impressed.

Instead, a slick, icy dread filled his stomach.

She'd planned ahead, too, clever as she was. Her path led directly to a hole over the basement; she got closer and closer as the monster closed the gap between them. When she made it to the edge, she glanced back to gauge the distance. It was risky to wait, but she waited anyway.

Her eyes strayed farther, and Jax saw surprise flit across her expression when she met his gaze. That was the part where he should make a joke, or laugh, or do something funny.

He ran harder.

The monster wailed and leaped for her. Pomni jumped out of the way.

It must have been luck, earlier, and Jax must have used it all up with his stunts. Because the monster fell right into the trap, limbs flailing and flying in all directions in its effort to stop.

He arrived just in time to watch its tail lash out, right into Pomni. It knocked her too far down - her arm scraped the rim of the hole, slid off, and then she was falling.

"What would you do if I abstracted tomorrow?"

"I'd move on. And probably forget about you."

Jax didn't think.

He dove for the ledge, lunging for that skinny arm, the hat, a bell, something, anything-

His fingers locked around an ankle, and pain flared up his arm. He could feel it glitching and sparking against his gloves, the simulated burning sensation that made his skin crawl. The deep part of him, the shard of the real world that snatched his hand from hot ovens and kept him from wandering in the dark, recoiled against it. Urged him to let go.

Jax grit his teeth and tightened his grip.

He should probably feel bad for Mick or Mel or whatever the BOINK his name was, but Jax could only handle so many things at once, and his entire concentration was on hauling Pomni out, inch by inch. It wouldn't do either of them any good if he overbalanced and toppled in after her. His frazzled nerves could only take so much stress.

He was the boss around here, and the jester didn't go until he wanted her gone.

His arm was on fire by the time he got her out. They sprawled unceremoniously on the ground, too close to the hole for comfort and too exhausted to make it any further away. Only then did he let himself pant for air. Only then did he risk a glance over.

Pomni looked terrible. The word 'seizure' came to mind, watching her body flicker all over the place. Her eyes were open, face twisted in a grimace, static jolting across her body every few seconds. It looked...painful.

Despite the deathly state, though, she managed to turn her head in his direction. She opened her mouth and, between glitches, stuttered out, "T-th-thanks, Ja-x-x-x. B-but y-ou-our armmm."

Da[clang]it Pomni. He gave it a quick look, clocked the same sort of choppy effect ricochet along his fur, and promptly ignored it. "'S'fine," he said dismissively, scooting closer. "God, they did a number on you."

"M'ok-k-kay," she tried, and shivered violently. Something ached through him at the sight, sharper than the pain in his limb, and he reached for her until she gasped, "D-don't! You-you'll-"

"Don't care," he answered bluntly. "C'mon, let's go get Caine. He can clean this mess up. God knows I won't."

He latched onto her waist with his glitching arm and, with no preamble, threw her over his shoulder. She made a cut-off sound, an oof that sounded suspiciously copyrighted, before she nearly clipped through him entirely. He kept a steadying palm against her back, and miraculously, the contact seemed to calm the pixelating effect.

It also burned, but Jax was the funny one.

He was made to grin and bear it.

Chapter Text

Pomni was glitching.

Jax hated mantras. Specifically, he hated pep talks and affirmations and all the other self-help bulls[SPLAT] that Ragatha and Caine spewed about. They were living in hell, colorful graphics be [DING]ed, and anyone who couldn't see it had to be kidding themselves. They were all trapped here, they were going to die as terrible monsters, and no amount of pretty words would ever save them.

Jax knew that.

And yet.

"She's not abstracting," he repeated. His hand slayed over hers, keeping her still through another jolt of movement. "She's just glitching. She's not abstracting."

He knew that, too. Because he checked. Repeatedly.

Not that he'd advertised that factoid to Pomni. Everyone in the circus knew how twitchy she'd gotten about the idea of abstraction at first, and he had no interest in pushing that particular button. But believe it or not, Jax could be subtle.

They'd search a room, find no Caine in the vicinity, and he'd plop her onto the ground for a break.

"Need a minute," he said the first time, and, "You're heavier than you look, Pom Pom," the second, and, "Would it kill you to think lighter thoughts?" the time after that. It was after the half dozen mark, around the time of an absent excuse about dead weight, that Pomni started trying to drag herself. When he asked what the heck she was doing, she answered in that newly broken voice that she didn't want to slow him down.

He lost his cool for a second. Maybe more than a second. So what if he threatened to handcuff them together. So what if he started carrying her bridal style. Who was keeping track anyway?

They were well into the double digits for pit stops now, so he was well practiced in the art of easing her down, clamping a hand over the worst of her glitches to hold her steady, and scanning frantically for glowing eyes.

There were none. Of course there were none. Glitching, not abstracting.

The fear coursing through him loosened just a touch, only to surge again as she seized with glitches.

It had to be getting worse. It hadn't seemed as bad before, but now it wracked every inch of her cartoon body. He pressed his palm against her shoulder harder, stilling the movement, and watched her settle.

He joked about carrying her like a sack of potatoes repeatedly, well past the line between funny and annoying, but that comparison wasn't quite accurate. With the way she kept jumping and clipping and flinching involuntarily, it was probably closer to carrying a machine built to bludgeon you to death.

He kept his grip gentle when he lifted her again. He caught her head when it lolled to the side, turning it against his shoulder. Their respective proportions shouldn't have worked half as well as they did, but he didn't look a gift circus in the ugly teeth. "Cmon, Poms, let's blow this pop stand."

"A-x-x," she slurred. It was all she'd been able to say on the last few stops, the only sound she kept trying to make. Her arm jolted sideways, like a puppet on a string, but it was enough to lose his balance. They toppled together, and Jax flung her like a ragdoll (ha, comedy) up onto himself at the last second to cushion the blow.

It took him a moment to catch his breath, with the air knocked out of him so thoroughly, but he finally managed to wheeze, "Not a bowling pin, PomPom."

"x-x-x," she repeated. It sounded like she was saying it through gritted teeth. He snapped to attention, glancing down at her.

At the mess of glitches practically covering them both.

Her hands thumped against his chest with purpose, visibly fighting for the strength to push herself off. Those pinwheel eyes were blown wide in fear where they saw the effect on his hand, his shoulder, his chest, his face-

Jax wrapped a numb arm around her waist and pulled her close again.

"'S'fi-ine, Po-omni-i," he muttered, letting his head fall back to thump on the floor. "Just gli-i-itching, not abs-strac-cting."

It wasn't much of a comfort, because it hurt. It hurt like hell, actually. His hand, the one he pressed against the most intense of her glitches, itched and throbbed and burned. His shoulder ached - if he were human, he'd probably be bruised to the bone.

He could save himself. He could leave her here and go find Caine. If it were anyone else in this death trap, he'd probably do it.

He straightened her hat instead, and when it glitched sideways a moment later, he straightened it again.

Ragatha looked awful on Pomni's first day. It had been hilarious at the time, and Jax laughed about it for days. The way she twitched and convulsed had been ridiculously laughable.

He'd kill for it to be funny again.

And then, a little gloved hand met his.

It shouldn't have helped, considering that Pomni was still the worse off of the two. Nothing about it made sense. There was no logic to it, when she ran her thumb over the back of his knuckles. No reason it should ease the glitching or soothe the pain.

But it did.

Her expression scrunched in concentration, body contouring and consumed with pain. Jax watched her hurt in ways no one should ever know. This place was intent on killing them, making them into coded messes to hurt each other.

And this one piece of Pomni that she could control was so, so gentle for him.

F[LORK] it.

It was agonizing to haul himself up again, so Jax did what he did best - not think both it. Ignore the problems, no matter how hard, no matter how many eyes it had.

Focus on Pomni. The way she kept trying to say his name, the way his glitches starting timing to hers. Her hand in his.

One more room, he told himself. Just check one more.

One more turned into three, into five, into ten. It took all his concentration to put one foot in front of the other. His avatar kept locking up from pain and feeling and both.

"Gl-ch-ng," Pomni mumbled, when his steps faltered. She didn't raise her head, but Jax could feel the words in his fur. "N't ab-str-ting."

God, this jester.

"Holy [BOINK]."

Oh. Jax knew he ought to make a joke here. Something about the way Zooble's expression went slack with horror. Or maybe the way they cursed a blue streak, so nasty that even the censors had to resort to an air horn to drown them out.

But really, he could only be grateful for how annoyingly loud they could be when they threw their head back to bellow for Caine.

His world went fuzzy, finally giving out to the pixelated mess eating him alive, and that hand still held his.

Pomni, the realest thing in this godforsaken digital circus.