Even glitching won't take away some memories.

For the better part of a week, Glitch refused to leave him room.

The glitches were near paralysing by that stage, his emotions so high and turbulent that he struggled to get through an hour without ending up caught in a cycle, or completely forgetting who people around him were. Raw spent the most time with him, trying to keep his mind smooth and healing but it was almost like Glitch was willing the surgery to go wrong, uninterested in making life normal again.

Raw was also sworn to secrecy. Glitch didn't discuss what had happened that night, the night of the ball. He didn't answer questions, just glitching out of them when he was asked where Cain was or what happened between them. Raw kept his word, he said nothing about what he knew, he didn't tell the medicos what was wrong and why a previously well recovering patient had back slid so dramatically.

But it was clear. Glitch was more and more showing the symptoms of being a headcase. Lack of focus, disorientation, forgetfulness, emotional disconnection...

But he never once forgot the emotional pain that was driving his descent. No matter what they thought he had forgotten, how he seemed to be, he hadn't forgotten Wyatt, however much he tried.

He remembered cornflower blue eyes and sun touched skin and hair and a bright, warm smile that had woken him out of his glitches.

He remembered being in love and being loved in return.

And he remembered the look on a boy's face, angry and hurt and near resentful. And he didn't know who the boy was, but he knew that it was vitally important that he never have that look again.

Which was why he would live like this. Because sometimes, what you want doesn't matter as much as doing the right thing.

And he didn't remember why it was the right thing. Only that it was.

He had to hurt to make it right.

And no amount of glitching would take that away.

(no subject)

"You're a damn, bloody fool, Glitch."

Glitch growled walking away from the desk. "I did what I had to do, you know that!"

"I know all about doing what you have to," Ambrose spat back, stalking back to the desk. "You do it, because you have to. You didn't have to do this, you never should have done this, you stupid headcase!"

"Who are you calling headcase, you pompous... pompous-"

"You need a noun now," Ambrose sniped. "You can't remember nouns, how can you possibly make a balanced judgment."

"Shut up! I don't know why I ever wanted you back, you're a relic from a dead age!" Glitch was beyond angry, beyond reasoning. He grabbed a handful of papers and threw them, scattering notes everywhere. "You're rotten and horrible and you don't know anything about people!"

"I know plenty! Who do you think Anoria turned to when she had trouble?" Ambrose started gathering the papers up again, flattening them out and smoothing the papers. "I'm not such a fool."

"You've never been in love. Never." Glitch stamped the papers. "Leave the damn notes and pay attention to me!"

"I was never in love before. That doesn't mean that I don't understand this and that you're not making a damn fool of yourself and killing both of you at the same time." Ambrose gathered the papers hastily, setting them on the bed. "Or that you have to wreck my work."

"Go away!" Glitch grabbed the inkwell, throwing it at the wall and watching it shatter, blue ink exploding over the wall. "If all you're going to do is belittle me like I'm just headcase idiot not worth even looking at when you're talking to me, you can just go and rot in hell, Advisor Ambrose! You have less heart than Zero!"

There was the resounding sound of a slap.

Glitch was left standing in the middle of his room, hand to his cheek and alone.

(no subject)

Time means little to a headcase.

Times meant even less to Glitch and Ambrose. By the time they had started leaving their room, it was apparent that there was a problem between the two of them. Two sides of the one person, a shared set of memories and a share awareness of the world and yet from the day they returned to the workshop, it became apparent that there was some terrible rift between them.

They fought.

They argued. They yelled and screamed and one of them threw things and the other threw words and it was terrifying for those watching, peeking through the doorway to see the man stalking back and forth, yelling at himself, an entire discourse carried out by a single man like a frightful parody of a monologue.

That night, they had fought until they had dropped, literally, a last screamed insult from Glitch and then he slapped himself hard in the face, reeling to the ground in a heap of coat and bare feet, sobbing softly into his arms.

Raw slipped inside, DG hovering behind him, Azkadellia's hand tightly gripped in her own. Raw came over to Glitch, laying a hand slowly on his back. Glitch tried to shrug it off, but just kept sobbing quietly when Raw didn't back off.

"Glitch sad. So sad." His fingers stroked one shoulder. "Miss love. Hurting, inside. Breaking apart."

Glitch said nothing. DG came closer resting a hand on Raw's shoulder.

"Glitch need Cain."

He sniffled. "Well Cain's better off without Glitch."

"How can you say that, Glitch?" DG didn't manage to stop herself. "He loves you."

Glitch snapped upright, blinking through tears. "DG? What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you, Glitch! You were yelling at yourself... you and Ambrose were fighting again. Half the castle can hear you."

Glitch stood himself up, turned away and turned back, head tilted. "Do I know you?"

"It's me, Glitch. DG."

"DG?" He looked at Raw, then back to DG, then to Azkadellia. Then he screamed.

Azkadellia flinched as the headcase took off out the backdoor. DG held her hand tighter. "It's okay, Az. He'll remember. He will."

"Raw will follow." Raw ambled after Glitch, leaving the two girls standing behind him.