𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏.

[demainvient]

𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ⊹ 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒚 ⊹ 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍
 

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[demainvient]

[ It's too much information, too alien an idea; even if he weren't already trying to claw his way out of muffling shock it would be almost impossible to wrap his head around. Maelle is telling him she's a Paintress, that she brought him back to life, that she's from some other world— what does that mean for this one? For Lumière?

Something does cut through the clinging, claustrophobic blanket of confusion, though: the tinge of sorrow to her smile, the things she's saying. She wasn't... happy, in this other life, and he doesn't understand any of that but he understands Maelle.

(Doesn't he? Does he still?) ]

Maelle, I...

[ His glance lifts to that familiar ponytail, the way the loose strands frame her face: now pure white instead of red. But she's still familiar. ]

I wanted you to have everything you could ever need. Whatever... whatever else is true, you're my family. You're still my family.

[ His mouth opens, but he doesn't say what rises to the tip of his tongue: it would only hurt her. Aren't you?

He swallows it, finds some tiny smile for her instead, wanting to shake that sadness off the corners of her own. ]

At least, I think the paperwork would still agree.

now I can unleash this journal with icons

[tomorrowcomes]

[There he is. He grounds himself, through her, and Maelle's smile comes easier.]

I am. You raised me.

[Just as much as Maman or Papa. Maybe even more, now that she thinks of it. He never pushed her to be anything she wasn't. He encouraged her to be herself, whatever that may be. He loved her fully, and she knows he'll love her fully know, even if he doesn't quite understand. Maelle and Alicia's memories run parallel, two childhoods, two families, but she finds herself favoring one over the other. Gustave is so small part of why.]

Nothing will change between us. Not ever.

[The paperwork doesn't matter at all.]

And now we have forever. You won't be going anywhere. [No Gommage. No death.] You can live whatever life you want, Gustave.

I HAVE REGRETS

[demainvient]

Whatever life I want...?

[ He reaches for her hand, realizing again that his arm is shining and new, moving as easily as if it had only just been fabricated and lubricated. It's not a smoking heap of metal on a cave floor, useless, burned out. He's not—

Gustave clamps down on that thought in a hurry, curling his metal fingers gently around hers as he looks around the room, to the door. ]

Emma— is—

[ He looks back to Maelle, the possibilities yawning in front of him. ]

Is Emma here? She must be worried out of her mind, if she— if you told her—

—Is she here?

[tomorrowcomes]

[She smiles and covers his hand with her other. There's no heart better than his, and she's so glad to see it shine so strongly. Her thumb moves over the metal, ever treating it as if it were flesh and blood. He asks about Emma because of that good heart, because he is a good brother, and Maelle breathes out slowly through her nose before giving him an answer he may or may not enjoy.]

She's not here. Not yet. I wanted to make sure you were okay before bringing her back.

[Gustave would be a greater comfort. Maelle tips her head thoughtfully, smile widening. He thinks of Emma, of course. But there's more possible.]

Are you going to ask about Sophie, next?

[She was actually next on Maelle's list. To give Gustave his happiness, his life. To give him a second chance. He and Sophie would never have to worry about losing one another again, and what wonderful doors that would open for them.]

[demainvient]

...Sophie?

[ No. She... she wouldn't. She couldn't.

(The day he'd said goodbye to Sophie, how she'd looked at him with tears streaming down her face as the realization that it was going to happen, that there was no escaping it, that the end really had come for her, is locked away tight in his heart. If he closes his eyes right now, he'd be able to see every detail of her face: every lash, every freckle.)

His brow rucks up and he shakes his head at her, uncomprehending. The pain blooms in his chest, as bloody and raw as the moment he fell to his knee there on the pier, all that time ago. ]

Maelle... Sophie's gone.

[ His voice is soft, like she's small and he's trying to explain the Gommage, the Expeditions. Death... death is just as final.

And it still is. Isn't it? ]

She's gone.

[tomorrowcomes]

[So was he. So was Sciel, Lune. Maelle knows he's still in shock, but she has to give him this hope. A reward for all of his love, all of his suffering. An apology for not waking up and remembering sooner. Her voice lowers as well, eyes searching his.

The only person that needs to stay gone is Papa.]

Gustave. You're here again. So can she.

[Finding her chroma was difficult, considering the time that had passed since they left with Expedition 33. But it still remained, carried away in the winds and by the sea, and she thinks with Gustave's help she can bring her back and they can all go from there.

She thinks she would prefer to be an aunt rather than a big sister, but there's still time to figure that out. Not every big sister needed to be as cutting as Clea.]

You'd like that, wouldn't you? A chance to see her again and be happy together. Things are better now.

[demainvient]

[ Maybe he shouldn't be.

It's the first thought that blooms quietly in his mind when she says what she does. Maybe he shouldn't be here again. He doesn't understand how any of this works, how... if he's painted, what does that mean? If the Paintress created him and all the others, how could Maelle bring them back? How could she bring them back the same?

Would he even realize it, if he were different from before? Would she? ]

I...

[ This, at least, isn't different. He's sure of that. He remembers wishing with all his poor broken heart for even one more moment with Sophie, to see her smiling and sweet and mischievous in the sunlight. He'd longed for a chance at... at another future. Another life.

And here is Maelle, offering it to him on a silver platter. ]

Yes. Yes, of course I would.

[tomorrowcomes]

Then you'll have it. [A beat. Her smile becomes sheepish.] Just... give me a little time.

[Time to simply have him back. Time to paint Sophie properly. Time is all they have, now, and so she doesn't really feel the need to rush into anything at all. Surely he'll understand, be patient. She'll bring back Sophie and Emma and whoever he wants. Eventually.]

I want to make sure you're okay. It's... it's a lot, I know. You've been through so much and now it's time for us to be a family that never has to worry about breaking apart. We've earned it. This is--the least I can do for you. You took such good care of me. [Ah, and here she thought she was beyond her voice cracking. She clears her throat.] You're still the best family I've ever had.

[Funny, that.]