I… can’t put this off any longer.

Pips…

She’s getting worse. For a while after I returned, yes, she followed me like a puppy… but…

It’s that dead look in her eyes, and that forced smile…

I don’t know what to do about it. About her.

Maybe…

No.

I can’t.

I can’t do that to her. My oldest, dearest friend…

But I miss her.

I miss her so much.

Most likely, I never see her smile or hear her laugh again.

Ever.

…

I’m not sure I can last forever with this.

***

“Hm?”

I was relaxing in my throne room not long after Vivi finished giving me the daily updates, simply waiting for the next scheduled petitioners or whatever it was that the old knight called them when I had another visitor.

My wife.

To be honest, I’m not even sure what she does during the day; I’ve made the effort to give her space, especially considering I already know exactly where she’s going to be in the evening, as well as the ongoing positivity and affection she constantly radiates for me of all people.

For a horrifying monster like me.

…

But here she is anyway, in my life, casting a ray of sunshine of a completely different variety than the ones in Hyperion’s eyes.

“I… think I want your help with something,” Izzy finally says after a long moment of quiet. “..but I’m probably going to regret it. We both might, but I just can’t stay back and do nothing about this for any longer. I just can’t.”

I raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything, although I do gesture for her to continue. It’s clear that she’s not finished, and anything I could have to say right now will just slow her down, possibly even breaking what false confidence she’s built up in this decision – whatever it is.

“It’s Pips,” she finally says.

“Hm? Pearl? What’s wrong with her?” I glance at my bond with the sludge tentacle thing, and… yes, while she’s clearly emotionally unstable, she doesn’t seem… wrong? Any more wrong than normal? How long has she been like this? Wait, how was she before?

I don’t remember.

I just don’t remember. Maybe because I didn’t have a bond with her before she was like she is now…

“She’s getting worse.”

I shift slightly on my throne. “How so?”

My wife sighs heavily.

Another moment later, clearly working through her emotions, she continues.

“She’s not herself. Suffering is all she has left… can’t you feel it? Just what did she do while I was missing? What happened to her to make her like this?”

“You were missing,” I shrug. “Her entire purpose was you, and you were missing. She panicked at first, and struggled to even hold her shape, but after a few months of that she simply stood still behind where your old throne was on the dais. And she stayed there for… I don’t now how long. I’ll admit that her continuous sniffling got to me after a while, so I instructed her to stand near the edge of the room instead… and she just, stayed there.”

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“How… how long was she like that?” Izzy asks, a further tinge of concern pushing through her obvious conflict and sorrow.

I have to think on it for a moment. When did she…? Ah.

“For the entire time you were missing, I think. I’m pretty sure that she was there when I slept, and she was still there when I woke up…”

“Hu-hundreds of years,” my wife blurts in disbelief. “She stood still and suffered losing her purpose for living for centuries, didn’t she?”

I tilt my head to the side thoughtfully before nodding. “Yes, I suppose she did.”

“And that explains everything. I think.”

“Alright. It sucks, especially for her. So what did you want me to do? You asked for my help, so I know you want or need something… involving her, of course.”

She takes a deep breath and steels herself… which I can feel through our link is very, very difficult for her.

And then she finally says, “I want her back. And I think I understand you a bit better now. Because…”

…

“Because?”

“…Because I want her to stop suffering. And if nothing happened for those hundred years, nothing but suffering… then she doesn’t need those memories. I think. So would you… Would you please…?”

…

…

“You want me to separate her memories like I did for you.”

“Yes.”

…

“No. I’m not going to. I promised you I’d never do that again. I won’t betray you… never. Never again. I won’t be that person, because I take you and what we have seriously, and I never want to hurt you again. Somehow I can tell that doing this would hurt you, far worse than anything else I could do to you, at least that I haven’t already done… which was already really bad! I know that even if she didn’t hate both of us for it, you’d hate yourself. You know you would, be honest. Your old friend deserves better… I think? I mean, sure, she’d be suffering less… but… but you said…”

“I’ve said a lot of things, dear. But I was wrong, at least for extreme things, I guess… I just don’t want to see her suffer anymore. I want to see her smile. I want to see her happy, or at least happier. Even if it means she hates me.”

I take a moment to process the situation. I wasn’t sure at first what she meant when she said she understood me better now… but it’s clear what she meant.

She’s in the same situation I was.

Someone she cares deeply about, extremely deeply, is in a broken and unrepairable state. Constant suffering with no way out, simply struggling to hold themselves together, existence itself being torment.

And she wants that person to stop suffering, regardless of the consequences.

No matter what.

I understand.

I understand her now.

But…

I promised that I’d never do this again, that I’d respect the sanctity of the individual and not… well, play god with people’s minds.

What does that promise really mean though if the one who holds me accountable for that promise, the one to whom I promised?

To who? Whom? Whom to uh… who I… nevermind, that doesn’t even matter. Not right now.

Not at all.

“So you want me to potentially mutilate her mind… are you sure you know what you’re asking for? You do realize what I did to you was a last resort… I wasn’t even sure if you’d survive as a person, with an intact mind, but I thought anything was better than the hell you were living in. Are you absolutely sure her life is so bad that this is worth it?”

My wife takes a deep breath and then says, “I am. This isn’t easy for me, Nemesis. I’ve been struggling with this for weeks now. I… There’s nothing I can do for her. Nothing at all. All she does is follow me around, with that forced smile and dead look in her eyes, repeatedly asking me if I’m going to stay with her now. Asking if I’m going to leave her again. It’s all she think about, nothing else! The person I knew is already gone… and there’s nothing else I can do for her than exist where she can see me in the hopes it will bring her some form of comfort. But even then, she’ll ask. She’ll ask again, and again, and again… it’s all she has left. Fear I’m going to abandon her. That I’m going to disappear. And I can’t stand it any longer… I want her back. No matter what. So… please. Please help me, my love. I can’t do this on my own. I need you. I need your help.”

I sit in silent thought for a few moments, mulling over the difficult decision. On the one hand, I want my wife to be happy… and that might mean violating what was supposed to be the most important promise I’ve made my wife… made, and broken, and made again more seriously.

And then my rumination is broken by the feeling of her arms on my lap, a mournful look accompanying her eyes gazing deeply into my own.

“Please help me. I need you. Please?”

…

…

“Izzy… sweetie… You know I can’t resist you when you do this. I know you know this.”

…

“So I really hope you know what we’re doing here, and what you’re asking for. If it’s really what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

***

It’s clear Izzy doesn’t want to shock her old, old friend by teleporting us directly to the suffering sludge tentacle’s room… so we go to my wife’s old room instead, the one in which we’ve already spent so much time together.

“Please be gentle to her if you can. I don’t know what this requires, but I’ll do everything I can to comfort her, or distract her, or… or I don’t know. I don’t know what. But I’ll do anything I can to help.”

I nod lightly at the weight of the situation.

…Although it occurs to me that Pearl’s bond has felt…

Wrong, somehow?

Off?

Something is different. I’m not sure how.

It’s okay though. We’re going to fix her. It’s going to be alright, she’ll forget her suffering, and Izzy will be happy again.

I need Izzy to be happy. I need it.

So we open the door to Pearl’s room…

And Izzy gasps.

…

There’s nothing in the room but visibly unused furniture…

And a gray, oily smear on the floor of the room.

“…Pearl?” my wife starts…

Just in time for my bond with the former healer to flicker out.

…

…

We’re too late. She’s gone.

She’s just gone.