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Glitch hears the news at five in the evening, when he's down in his workshop, trying to forgot everything by pouring through his journals and notes. Two maids lurking outside are whispering and he overhears them.
"... six dead down at the West Gate. A gang of bank robbers were killed. They killed two of the Tin Men though."
"Oh, is that why that lovely young captain was so shaken up?"
Glitch hears nothing more. All he can hear is their words, echoing through his mind like a saw against his skull. Two dead Tin Men. Young captain shaken up. Two dead Tin Men. Young captain shaken up. Two dead Tin Men. Young captain shaken up.
"Glitch!"
He jerks, faced with a woman he doesn't know with long dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. Something about her seems familiar. "Have we met?"
"Glitch, it's me. DG."
"DG?" DG was the name of the little princess who- "DG! Hi!" He'd been doing something... something to do with those books? "What was I doing?"
"Glitching. You kept saying 'Two dead Tin Men. Young captain shaken up.' What's wrong?" She rubs his arm, gaze concerned. "What happened?"
"Two dead..." Two dead Tin Men. "Oh merciful light. Wyatt... Wyatt's been killed." Cold, sickening emptiness sinks through him, worse than when he realised he made the Witch's monsterous machine, worse than every time he realised his brain was gone, even worse than when they told him they couldn't put his brain back in.
Wyatt was gone.
He slumps to the ground, DG holding onto him. She's speaking, but he can't hear her, he can't move, he can't breathe. He's made of stone and ice, because Wyatt's dead and that makes all of this completely pointless.
And then he can see, eyes blinking open. A girl leans over him, a Viewer leaning close and touching him, making small sounds. There's something vaguely familiar about them, but he can't think through the ache in his head, the fact that his body won't do what he wants.
"Glitch?"
They know his name.
"Glitch? Are you awake?"
He guess he must be. He nods slowly. "Who- are you?"
"DG, Glitch. You... glitched. Badly. You're in your room."
"I have a room?" A room where? Who was DG?
"Yes, Glitch. You have a room." There is heavy concern and fear on her face.
"Oh." He looks between them, but he doesn't recognise them. "What happened?"
"You thought, no, first things first. Wyatt's okay, Glitch. He's fine. He wasn't one of the Tin Men killed. He's okay."
Memory floods back. Wyatt... Tin Men dead... young captain shaken... "He's not?"
DG shakes her head. "He's not dead. He's okay. He wasn't even there."
Wyatt isn't dead. He is fine.
Glitch dissolves into sobs, curling up on himself as the force hurts his chest, pulls at his ribs. He isn't dead. He isn't dead. He's alive.
Raw curls over Glitch's back, petting him softly. "Glitch love Cain. Glitch should go back."
"I can't!" He shakes his head, and it's like fire through his scalp and skull. "I can't, I love him, I can't..."
A smaller voice echoes, a tiny sob under the words and tears. "I love him. I won't do this to us. I want to be selfish. I love him more than I have words for and please, please don't do this, please don't, you don't have to, please...."
It's wrong... but Raw lays his hand on Glitch touching that voice and letting it be heard, phrases and fragments of sentences blending until he stops crying and looks up at them.
"I was helpless," he whispers. "I was helpless and they didn't listen." He raises his chin. "I won't go through that again. Please, leave me."
He watches as DG stands there, confused and lost even as Raw takes her out again and shuts the door. Only then does he stand up, shedding his work stained clothes and moving to the wardrobe, opening it up.
He listens to the faint whispers of desperation, begging and pleading him not to do this, to just let it go, flashes in the mirror of his own face, wracked with anguish and conflict.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. He pulls out clothes, underwear first, then looking to the list and getting socks, pulling them on. "But no. You won't do this, but I will. You told me I had never known love. Well that's not true. I'm willing to be selfish for us."
He pulls on pants, stealing the curtain cord to tie them on, the belt too much difficulty. He thinks he's lost weight since the ball, too much time on the floor or in bed with glitches and headaches, but it doesn't matter. He'll recover once he's done this, once he's tidied this up.
He's always been good at fixing things. Very good at it. He can find a problem, solve it and implement that solution. He pulls on an undershirt and his shirt over the top, leaving it undone. His vest on on over that, brushed free of imaginary hair and dust and the collar of the shirt adjusted. Everything done just so, fastidious as he can be with his memory.
The coat is next. Not the military one that he can actually do up but the brown one with the tny buttons that are far beyond his memory to deal with. He settles the weight on his shoulders and finds his shoes, getting them on and settled.
He snatches his hidden bottle from the drawer and sets out, down the hallway, stopping maids to ask them where the way out is. Each guides him on a bit more, and his hands twitch as he feels control being fought for but he keeps on. He's doing the right thing.
"... six dead down at the West Gate. A gang of bank robbers were killed. They killed two of the Tin Men though."
"Oh, is that why that lovely young captain was so shaken up?"
Glitch hears nothing more. All he can hear is their words, echoing through his mind like a saw against his skull. Two dead Tin Men. Young captain shaken up. Two dead Tin Men. Young captain shaken up. Two dead Tin Men. Young captain shaken up.
"Glitch!"
He jerks, faced with a woman he doesn't know with long dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. Something about her seems familiar. "Have we met?"
"Glitch, it's me. DG."
"DG?" DG was the name of the little princess who- "DG! Hi!" He'd been doing something... something to do with those books? "What was I doing?"
"Glitching. You kept saying 'Two dead Tin Men. Young captain shaken up.' What's wrong?" She rubs his arm, gaze concerned. "What happened?"
"Two dead..." Two dead Tin Men. "Oh merciful light. Wyatt... Wyatt's been killed." Cold, sickening emptiness sinks through him, worse than when he realised he made the Witch's monsterous machine, worse than every time he realised his brain was gone, even worse than when they told him they couldn't put his brain back in.
Wyatt was gone.
He slumps to the ground, DG holding onto him. She's speaking, but he can't hear her, he can't move, he can't breathe. He's made of stone and ice, because Wyatt's dead and that makes all of this completely pointless.
And then he can see, eyes blinking open. A girl leans over him, a Viewer leaning close and touching him, making small sounds. There's something vaguely familiar about them, but he can't think through the ache in his head, the fact that his body won't do what he wants.
"Glitch?"
They know his name.
"Glitch? Are you awake?"
He guess he must be. He nods slowly. "Who- are you?"
"DG, Glitch. You... glitched. Badly. You're in your room."
"I have a room?" A room where? Who was DG?
"Yes, Glitch. You have a room." There is heavy concern and fear on her face.
"Oh." He looks between them, but he doesn't recognise them. "What happened?"
"You thought, no, first things first. Wyatt's okay, Glitch. He's fine. He wasn't one of the Tin Men killed. He's okay."
Memory floods back. Wyatt... Tin Men dead... young captain shaken... "He's not?"
DG shakes her head. "He's not dead. He's okay. He wasn't even there."
Wyatt isn't dead. He is fine.
Glitch dissolves into sobs, curling up on himself as the force hurts his chest, pulls at his ribs. He isn't dead. He isn't dead. He's alive.
Raw curls over Glitch's back, petting him softly. "Glitch love Cain. Glitch should go back."
"I can't!" He shakes his head, and it's like fire through his scalp and skull. "I can't, I love him, I can't..."
A smaller voice echoes, a tiny sob under the words and tears. "I love him. I won't do this to us. I want to be selfish. I love him more than I have words for and please, please don't do this, please don't, you don't have to, please...."
It's wrong... but Raw lays his hand on Glitch touching that voice and letting it be heard, phrases and fragments of sentences blending until he stops crying and looks up at them.
"I was helpless," he whispers. "I was helpless and they didn't listen." He raises his chin. "I won't go through that again. Please, leave me."
He watches as DG stands there, confused and lost even as Raw takes her out again and shuts the door. Only then does he stand up, shedding his work stained clothes and moving to the wardrobe, opening it up.
He listens to the faint whispers of desperation, begging and pleading him not to do this, to just let it go, flashes in the mirror of his own face, wracked with anguish and conflict.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. He pulls out clothes, underwear first, then looking to the list and getting socks, pulling them on. "But no. You won't do this, but I will. You told me I had never known love. Well that's not true. I'm willing to be selfish for us."
He pulls on pants, stealing the curtain cord to tie them on, the belt too much difficulty. He thinks he's lost weight since the ball, too much time on the floor or in bed with glitches and headaches, but it doesn't matter. He'll recover once he's done this, once he's tidied this up.
He's always been good at fixing things. Very good at it. He can find a problem, solve it and implement that solution. He pulls on an undershirt and his shirt over the top, leaving it undone. His vest on on over that, brushed free of imaginary hair and dust and the collar of the shirt adjusted. Everything done just so, fastidious as he can be with his memory.
The coat is next. Not the military one that he can actually do up but the brown one with the tny buttons that are far beyond his memory to deal with. He settles the weight on his shoulders and finds his shoes, getting them on and settled.
He snatches his hidden bottle from the drawer and sets out, down the hallway, stopping maids to ask them where the way out is. Each guides him on a bit more, and his hands twitch as he feels control being fought for but he keeps on. He's doing the right thing.
