My eyes roll in random directions, not listening to any of my commands. The rest of my body is suffering from the same affliction as well, but those aren't nearly as important as my eyes.
I want to see again.
A pair of footsteps and their accompanying voices reach my ears as they begin to work. “You didn’t see what I saw, Director. What she needs is help, and sending her into the heart of a fathom horde is hardly that.” Revisions says, his words filled with bite.
Maybe now is a bad time for seeing.
Catherine sounds exhausted, though, more mentally than physically. “You know as well as I do that it’s out of my hands at this point. Let’s at least argue about this after she’s safe.”
“When is that? Because she wasn’t ten minutes ago, and she won’t be tomorrow, so is there some half-hour window before we ship her off that she’ll be okay to hear what’s being decided for her?”
The movements of my eyes finally match up to the ones I’m trying to make, but I don’t dare to open them yet. My arms shift slightly from stiffness, pushing down into the familiar cushion of a Vanguard hospital bed.
Eclipse's voice replies to him before Catherine can: “You looking to get court-martialed, boy? I don’t tolerate insubordination, least of all right now.”
“Don’t threaten my Vanguard. I know you’re convinced that anything but your absurd military state is a joke, but that’s not how we do things here.”
I open my eyes a smidge just in time to watch one of Eclipse’s thick gloves smack down on the headboard of my bed, causing me to flinch. “That’s the second time you’ve told me what to do today, Cat. There are only three Vanguard left who can do that, and I’ll be damned the day you’re one of them.”
This feels like something coming to a head after a long history of conflict, so I’m apprehensive to stop it, but I also desperately don’t want to be between it. I can tell my chance to shut them down is quickly disappearing, so I think of something to interrupt with.
“Is my Benny’s here?”
The two of them look down, surprise on their faces despite me waking up being the whole reason they’re in here. Catherine opens her mouth, but it’s Revision who actually responds to me.
“It’s almost here; she took longer since she didn’t know what flavors to get you.” He says, his voice an uncharacteristic monotone.
I look to him, discomfort filling me at the gaze that meets mine. His armor is still on, and thin trails of blood from where I attacked him linger on its exterior. It doesn’t feel like he’s looking at me; instead, I feel like an obstacle in his vision as he stares through me at something else.
Does he hate me now? He was just yelling at Catherine on my behalf, but this is so drastically different from his normal self that I can’t help but be worried.
The back of Catherine's fingers brush against my shoulder, and I feel a pulse of her chthonic energy course through my body. "Physically, you’re in fine shape, but that wasn’t the issue here to begin with. Are you okay? What state is Roosevelt in?”
I ponder that for a bit, not having a great answer for either. “I think I’m okay? I feel pretty normal overall, but I probably shouldn’t considering the circumstances. Roosevelt was worse off than me for a little bit, but he should be recovering once other-Brooke is properly sealed.”
“Your use of the term ‘other-Brooke’ means our separated ego theory is somewhat accurate, I take it?” She asks, pressing two of her fingers into different sections of my neck. I nod, leading her eyes to flick up toward mine. “You’re showing several symptoms of psychological shock; not that that’s particularly unexpected. I’m technically able to reduce the constriction of your blood vessels and prevent your body from generating more adrenaline, but that’s the type of thing that is resolved better naturally.”
Considering the eggshell-thin barrier between me and a mental breakdown, I’m probably best off staying muddled.
I raise my hand, gently pushing her cold fingers away from my throat. “With my mission being tomorrow, there’s not a lot of point in artificially un-shockifying myself. I don’t think I’d emotionally recover fast enough to do what I need to out there.”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The mood in the room sours perceptibly; my mention of the mission poking at the sore feelings I’d recently interrupted. It wasn’t intentional, per se, but there’s no way I’m letting them stop me from going at this point.
“Let me go. It’s the safer bet.” Revision says, and I turn to him in horror. “I stand a far better chance of getting back alive; we just have to put some more work into the compass.”
Reaching a hand into the inner pocket of her coat, Catherine pulls out… nothing.
I furrow my brow and look at the other two people in the room, searching for an explanation or confusion matching my own to validate myself. Eclipse remains unimpressed—I think that’s her default—but Revision stiffens, clearly having more of an understanding than I do.
“You witnessed the process yourself. Any smaller than this and it becomes unstable; any larger and it sinks into the mixture, becoming unfunctional. We’ve spent as much time and materials on this as we could, and even now we can’t be confident that it works since none of us can even see it.” Catherine states, holding her hand towards Revision as if the distance between it and him were the problem here.
My brain’s still lagging a bit from repossessing my own body, but I’ve got enough context clues to figure that she’s holding that compass thing I’m supposed to be able to see, and isn’t just gesturing like an Italian.
“Hypothetically, what if I couldn’t see that thing that’s totally in your hand?” I ask, craning my neck to get a better angle at the golf ball-sized space between her fingers.
She doesn’t lower her hand or even look my way as she responds, “You see it.”
And so I do.
Spherical, clear, and lightly glowing blue, the compass exists in her hand where it hadn’t a moment before.
I’m reminded of my mother’s uncanny ability to find things that Victor and I swore didn’t exist until she walked in, which opens up a whole new set of questions I’m not sure there are answers to.
“Right, you’re right. Was just a hypothetical, regardless. Can I hold it?” I ask, meeting her gaze. She seems hesitant, her arm pausing on its way to me, as if letting me hold the sphere marks some sort of point of no return.
As it’s warm, eggshell-like exterior settles into my palm, Revision speaks again. “Then one of us can go with her. Surely we can spare someone with more experience for the mission.”
Gently closing my fingers around the compass, she meets my gaze, her expression telling me just how fragile this thing is. “She isn’t being sent alone, but I do understand your concerns. The problem remains, though; with the probing assault starting, we really can’t spare anyone, nor will the Elysians give us permission to risk anyone else.”
I remember Roosevelt talking about some sort of mental attack, so the probing makes sense, but this is definitely my first time hearing the term Elysian. It must show pretty heavily on my face, since Eclipse actually addresses me for the first time since I’ve woken up.
“They’re the folks who can actively tell people like your dearest director to pound sand. The name’s pretentious as shit, though. It’s some Greek thing about warriors and the afterlife, or so they keep prattling about.” She says, cleaning her ear with her pinkie.
I nod slowly, still not sure how to approach her whatsoever. “And they can’t tell you to pound sand?”
“I have an arrangement with Patrolicus. I only take orders from them during times of emergency.” She replies, narrowing her eyes as if my question was a direct insult.
Catherine scoffs, leaning her chin on her hand as she interjects, “And guess who decides when something is considered an emergency? Besides, we’re fighting against the apocalypse. When isn’t it an emergency?”
The air surrounding Eclipse starts to heat up, warming my skin uncomfortably. Being sandwiched between these terrifyingly powerful siblings when they bicker seems like a terrible idea, which makes me all the more grateful as Roosevelt shimmers into existence above me.
“This is the second time I have awoken to the two of you picking at each other above my injured host. Is our plight really so irrelevant that you cannot put enmities aside?”
The second? When was the first? I hadn’t met Eclipse until recently; there’s no way—ah.
I’m not his first host.
My eyes wander his translucent form, searching for any of the wounds he suffered as the larger version of himself, but nothing sticks out. The stars dotting his body do seem much dimmer than usual, though, which knots my stomach with worry.
He must feel my concern as he twists in the air to look down at me, much to the relief of the two sisters he’d chastised. “I am well, Vanguard. Simply exhausted is all. The sealing is complete and will remain so until I am better equipped to deal with it fully.”
I open my arms, leaving enough room for him to settle down on me, which he does without complaint. My hand runs along his mantle, its cold and smooth texture calming me as much as it does him, based on his whole body going limp.
Hugging my contractor with one arm, I use the other to hand Catherine back the compass, addressing the room as I do.
“I appreciate both your concern and willingness to argue about whether I have to go or not, but it really doesn’t matter. Even if I had a choice in the matter, I’ve made it already, and I’m not changing my mind.”
Revision opens his mouth, but whatever he planned on saying simmers into a slumped sigh as he lowers his head. “It’s kind of hard to argue what’s best for someone when they themselves disagree. Are you sure about this? Where you’re going, you won't have Catherine to put you back together if this happens again.”
I really must have been a mess for the easygoing Revision to be this out of sorts. Then again, I did bite a chunk out of him. Maybe this is the appropriate amount of concern. I squeeze Roosevelt a bit to give me some confidence as I answer.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Roosevelt handled the hard bits, so now I need to do my part. Want to do my part.”
Catherine holds the compass out to me again, resigned concern wrinkling her forehead. “I’m liable to lose this thing if I hold onto it, so you keep it with you. You’ll need it tomorrow, so put it somewhere safe.”
Eclipse's hand finally leaves the corner of my bed, following her as she leaves the room. “The squid said she’s clear, so my babysitting duties are over. Finish your sappy shit and send me the mission’s briefing by tonight.”
Her jarring exit makes me lose my train of thought; thankfully, though, a brand new train hops on the rails now that I can see Menagerie through the door carrying my ice cream. She lifts the bag up, as do the several other monstrous limbs behind her.
“They are somewhat melted, but I refused to involve myself in any of… that.” She says, gesturing to the three of us. “You understand.”