𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏.

[demainvient]

𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ⊹ 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒚 ⊹ 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍
 

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[demainvient]

[ A choked little sound escapes her and she's clinging to him in the next moment, and whatever else he is, whatever else he doesn't understand, he always understands this: Maelle, and what she needs from him. What she needs now is comfort, to hold onto him, so he draws her close and lets her hold him as tightly as she needs, smiling a little at the brush of her lips over his cheek, the same sweet, innocent kiss he remembers from so many bedtimes and long chats and thanks given.

He leans his head against hers and just lets himself linger there for a long moment, everything he'd ever wanted suddenly here in his arms, suddenly real, before his voice comes again in a murmur, rumbling low in his chest. ]

But I don't understand how I'm... How am I back? How am I.... alive?

[ Destroying death was never going to bring back all the people they've lost, all those Expeditioners they passed on their long trek through the continent. And if he really had died, and not simply been gone, unreachable but still clinging to life, then how can he be here now, feeling Maelle in his arms, feeling the air as he pulls it into his lungs?

And where had he been in all the time in between? ]

[maellum]

[Inevitable questions that have no simple answer. Maelle squeezes him once more before reluctantly drawing back, though she keeps her hands on his arms, her attempt to anchor him. She looks into his eyes, perhaps the most familiar ones she knows, and smiles.

No way forward but through.]

I brought you back. I can bring back everyone. [She'll get around to it, eventually. She thinks she could even bring his parents back, if he so desires. Wouldn't that be nice? An extended family for them all. No need to get ahead of herself, though.] This world was painted. The Fracture occurred when there was a fight over it, and that's when everything became... so cruel, so unforgiving.

I can't fix everything that happened to this Canvas, but I can fix the rest. Our home. The people we love.

[Like him.]

[demainvient]

[ He hadn't known what he expected her to say, but it surely.... wasn't this. ]

Painted?

[ Maybe he's still in shock. Probably he's still in shock. It doesn't stop his mind from turning her words over and over, trying to find sense in them. ]

You mean... by the Paintress?

[ But then how could Maelle... she's his sister, a sixteen year old girl who always said she was never good at anything but swords and running across the city. He studies her, uncertain, wondering if maybe this is some sort of joke. It would be in poor taste even for Maelle, though. ]

How can you fix it? How can... how can you bring people back?

[maellum]

I'm a paintress. The Paintress was my mother. Well... is my mother, but she's no longer here.

[Maelle's brow creases, more at the fact that she doesn't like how there's no easy way to explain this without sounding absolutely insane to Gustave. She gives no thought to her mother and what she might be doing in this very moment. She's not here. She doesn't concern her. Everything is fine as long as she herself remains in this canvas.]

I was never very good at it, but Maman taught me enough. And I've been practicing. I made sure I was ready before I brought you back, Gustave, because... I wanted you to be just as I remembered. And you are.

[So everything else that's left should be easy. She gives Gustave a hopeful smile, but there's a reluctance to it.]

I know it sounds mad, but it's the truth. Maman wasn't the one behind the Gommage. It was Papa, trying to get her to leave. Trying to destroy this place. But everything is okay now. That will never happen.

[demainvient]

[ It doesn't just sound mad, it sounds impossible. Maelle, a paintress? A... Paintress? ]

But... your mother....

[ He shakes his head like a dog with water in its ear, agitated. ]

No... no. That's not right. Your mother and father were here, in Lumière. I know you don't remember them, but plenty of other people do... did... even now.

Why are you saying this?

[ It's some kind of story, it has to be, because how could it be the truth? But then... if it isn't the truth, how is he here?

Gustave looks away from her, around the room, his glance more intent and critical, looking for any small flaws, any changes to the familiar setting. This... it must be some illusion, or the afterlife, maybe. It can't possibly be real. ]

[maellum]

[Maelle waits, patiently, for him to ramble. To try and wrestle with what she's saying. It's difficult. She knows. It hurts to see him so unsettled, but after they get through this, everything will be beautiful again.]

They were. It's... very complicated. I can show it to you, some day. What life beyond here looks like, where I'm really from. [She owes it to Lune, too.] There's the life I lived here, and the life I lived there.

[She smiles, a little sad.]

The one here is so much better. [She can breathe. Speak. See, with both her eyes. She can run and laugh and live and no one recoils in horror and no one blames her anything and no one dies anymore.] So much of that is because of you. You were... everything I could ever want in a father, in a brother. I had so much love.

[How could anyone expect her to leave this all behind? And for what? A life of cruelty and suffering.]

[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.]