#bdrproger

Chester’s plan had backfired. And to think, he’d been certain to plot it so well! You see, his grand plan on making Anita Dearly’s life miserable was supposed to culminate in a frozen-heart-punishment fit to make her stoic and barely-human-at-all. Or at least, that was Chester’s intent and so imagine his surprise when he saw his Sister Dearly strolling around Swynlake with a smile on her face. Further inspection revealed that not only was Anita Dearly unbothered by her condition—she /loved/ it. She liked being a heinous bitch. Now how was that for a plot twist?

Which just left Chester with one option and one option only: Kill Anita Dearly.

Now, murder was an awfully messy business. It was never Chester’s first choice, never really his intention, but sometimes the path grew narrow, the options limited. Chester’s options were dwindling the longer he stayed in Swynlake and the more terror he caused. He could smell the climax as it approached…feel it quiver in his skin.

And so when he heard about the Patts-Faye babies’ birthday, his plot senses began to tingle. He needed something to get the heartless Anita onto a ledge. In a room full of her friends, his options sprang wide open. And so it was on June 28th that Chester slunk into Anita and Perdita’s flat for the last time, while they hung their streamers and blew up balloons. Oh, it was going to be a party, alright.

Anita It had been several weeks now since the awfully annoying ‘intervention’ that her friends had staged and thankfully, things had more or less returned to normal. Perdita was still prone to give her strange glances and the cold shoulder, and she rarely went out with her anymore, but Anita had found other people to occupy her time.

In fact, she was planning to duck out of this baby shower thing as soon as she could so she might take advantage of her free time for a few cocktails at Pixie’s. For now though, she played the part of dutiful friend. /She’d/ even offered to pick up the cake and she put it on the table now, setting down the knife, the plates, and the napkins in the minutes before the party was to officially start.

“We’ll be eating this all /week,/” she teased as she looked back at Perdita, and for a moment it was like Anita could be herself again—all sugar and rosy cheeks. And then the doorbell rang and Anita looked toward it. "Oh, that'll be the boys, wouldn't it?" she said.

Perdita was in the middle of blowing up balloons and as her head dizzied from the massive intakes and outtakes of oxygen, she thought about how she got here as she watched Anita flit about the table. Anita with her frozen heart. Perdita, who just took her depression medication a few hours ago. Paul and Roger--the same as always, if not sadder and scorned by the women they loved. It could've all worked out peachy, couldn't've? Two best friends in love with two best friends? It was the fairy tale everyone wanted. Somewhere along the way it had gotten so fucked, but they were all still here in the end, and that made Perdita's heart light. Or maybe that was the lack of oxygen.

When the doorbell rang she set aside the gold balloon she was blowing up (gold and white with a little bit of sky blue were the party colors). "I'll get it," she said with a smile and flounced towards the door, opening it wide. She smiled wide too.

"Hey!" she greeted, reaching out for one of the babies. "Gimme. You two have got to hang the streamers and balloons," she told them.

Paul was bloody well-excited for the first time-- alright, since he got cast as Romeo, maybe it wasn't so far back after all. He'd been waiting for this day for a while is all. He couldn't believe that his kids were one years old today, that it'd been a year and his life had changed this much. Course he didn't linger on the specifics because he'd get sad. He just focused on the babies himself, little Penn and little Patch, lively and smart and friendly, who were gonna be speakin' any day now, who still had their mother's eyes.

So he was all smiles when Perdita opened the door, Patch in his arms (Roger had Penn). Patch immediately let out a gurgly happy giggle at the sight of Perdy.

"Yeah, that's Mum! Mum's gonna say happy birthday," cooed Paul with that big grin before he passed Patch over. He glanced over her shoulder into the room. "Blimey, you plannin' to float this flat away with all those?" he quipped, but walked in toward them. He smiled a bit stiffly at Anita.

"Hey Anita-- you mind taking Penn?" Anita nodded and went to go get Penn from Roger near the door. Paul swiped a bunch of streamers and dragged a chair toward the window, no idea where he was gonna be puttin' 'em.

Roger Penn wriggled a bit in his arms. She was excited. Even Roger was a bit excited, well, more than he'd been in a while. He'd sorta accepted a few weeks ago that he was going to be doomed to cash registers and dog walking for the foreseable future, so when literally anything out of the normal happened it was a welcome change. Not that he wasn't happy that Paul's kids were turning one--because that was wonderful. These two little critters that Paul (and Perdy) had brought into the world were turning into little people.

Roger bounced Penny a bit. "You excited? They've got a cake and everything. Well, I dunno if you can process the taste of cake--oh hello, Anita." He managed a warm smile, shifiting Penny a bit so that Anita could take her.

Anita did not want to hold the baby, mind you, but here she was: playing nice. She smiled at Roger-- a closed-lip smile-- as she took the drooling bundle into her arms.

"Hullo Rog-- oof, this one's getting rather heavy, isn't she?" Anita said and looked at Penn, who had her fingers in her mouth. "Fancy that it's been a year, hm? This time last year-- why, we were just getting used to Swynlake weren't we?" she said to him. "Now we're practically regulars."

Perdita "Yes, Mommy is gonna say happy birthday, isn't she? Happy birthday!" Perdita said, bouncing Pat on her hip gently touching her finger to his nose to make him giggle, which made her giggle. She couldn't even begin to wrap her head around the fact they were a year old.

Did all mothers feel like that? Or just the ones that had lost the first nine months of their babies lives to depression?

Wandering towards Paul, she hovered around the bottom of the chair. "We've got to tell Daddy to be careful," Perdita narrated to Patrick, but she was looking up at Paul. Patrick made a cooing, baby-talk sound. "Yeah, I know, he can be a bit of a klutz, can't he?"

Paul scoffed, tossing her a glance. "That's definitely not what he said. He's on my side. We Patts men--" he mounted the chair then "--stick together! Now where the bloody hell do you want me to put these things?" He lifted the streamers up, squinting at the doors.

Roger gave a little laugh. "Time passes, that's for sure," he said, shrugging and walking into the flat. "So where's this all set up?"

Anita walked in after Roger, pushing the door closed with her heel. "Er, well Paul's got the streamers so I suppose if you'd like to hang some balloons off the chairs perhaps? The table's already set up so really we're practically good to go, I'm sure everyone will be here soon," she narrated as her eyes flicked around the room. She frowned at her own open door-- she swore she had closed it, so she moved toward it to shut the bedroom door again. No need to go in there.

Perdita "Y'know," Perdita said, letting go of Patrick with one hand to wave her hand about. "Loop it across the doorway, separate the colors out, though, so they don't get all bunched and are more--layered. And don't wrinkle them."

Paul "Course, because /wrinkle the streamers/ was first on the to-do list," Paul quipped back but was facing the window, measuring out the streamer to see how big the "loops" had to be. He wasn't the best at this sort of thing, Perdy knew that. He was pretty sure he was gonna fuck it up and she'd tell him to redo it, but he leaned forward and taped the one end and did the first loop across the window. "Yeah, like this?" he said and looked over his shoulder at Perdy.

Roger scanned the room and found where the gold, white, and blue balloons were and grabbed a handful. "Er--ribbon...?" Anita had walked off to her room, Penny still in her arms. Roger found a spool of ribbon, then set the balloons on the table, tyin' 'em up behind the chairs, and arranging them all nice and stuff. He flicked the top of one of the balloons and continued around the table.

Anita "Oh that already looks lovely, Rog," said Anita when she glanced back at the table with the balloons and the ribbons. The colour scheme was of course all Perdita's doing, neither boy could be responsible for such important measures. But he had a good eye and Anita's still appreciated this kind of aesthetic thing. Everything needed to be perfect, like a magazine. "Maybe bring some of that ribbon to the door? What do you think, that might be nice for people coming in," she said, adjusting Penn in her arms. She was being awfully wiggly.

Perdita "Mmm," Perdita said, tilting her head and taking a step back, almost bumping into the end table of the couch which made Pat giggle in her arms. "A little to the left I think, don't make them too big or we'll only be able to fit one or two."

Paul snorted some air outta his nostrils but obeyed and shifted it to the left so the loop drooped more dramatically. "Yeah?" he said. A second or two passed as Perdy eyed it. "Oh /c'mon,/ Perdy, they're just bloody streamers."

Perdita "They're not /just/ streamers, Paul. If they're uneven they'll throw off the whole ro--you know what? Here." Perdita bent down and placed Penny on the floor. She immediately began crawling across the floor, towards the couch, probably so she could try to pull herself up with it. "Anita, Roger, can you keep an eye on Penn while I help this /klots/," she scoffed, but playfully as she went and grabbed another chair, plopping it down next to Paul's so that they were spread out across the double doors. She climbed up carefully. "Okay, hand me that end," she said, gesturing for it.

Roger continued to adjust the balloons, then glanced over at Anita. "Yeah--that's a good idea. I can hang a few of 'em around the door frame." He grabbed a few balloons, knotting their ends with string, and reached for the top corner of the doorframe.

Anita had already wandered Roger's way to inspect the ribbon-doorway-mission, which was truly of the utmost importance as the guests would see it first and so it needed to give off the best impression. She glanced toward Perdy now, long enough to see her bend down to put the second of the Patts children on the floor. Anita rolled her eyes a little. Wasn't one baby enough (Penny was already a handful as is) for a woman to have to keep an eye on?

She gave another cursory glance, figuring the request was similar to a stranger asking another stranger to watch their things in a coffee shop-- symbolic and nothing more.

Then back to Roger. "Yes, that looks quite nice, I think. For what it is," she said with a shrug. She glanced back toward Paul-and-Perdy who were bickering. Rolled her eyes. "I do wish they'd just sleep with each other and get it over with," she said half to herself, half to Roger.

And then she noticed her /door/ was open again. Anita scoffed. "I swear I just closed that--" Anita said as she swept back toward her bedroom to shut the door.

Paul "Oi, name callin-- we got kids in the room, Perdy," teased Paul with a mock-stern expression. He leaned over enough to hand her the other end of the streamer. "Right, so. Tell me how this is gonna work /oh streamer queen./" More mocking. Ah, felt like old times.

Roger heard what Anita had said and then just shrugged, not really wanting to get into the whole should-Paul-and-Perdy-sleep-together bit, especially coming from the girl who went off and froze her heart. He adjusted the balloons, glancing over his shoulder as Anita walked towards her bedroom.

Perdita "And don't you forget it," Perdita said playfully, taking the streamer from Paul, their fingers brushing over the streamer, making Perdita's heart squeeze a little. She hung it up, a mite distracted, and then looked over her shoulder to find the babies.

It was habit now, ever since Patch had fallen off the bed. If they were in the room, she could't take her eyes off them for maybe a few seconds. Anita still had Penny on her hip. Patch was--he should be right by the couch. She craned her head a little further, to try and see around the back of it, if he crawled off in that direction. It almost made her lose balance as her stilettos slipped against the finished wood and she ripped the fragile streamer still in her hands.

"Paul--do you--do you see Patch? Anita! Where is he?" she asked, her voice a little shriller than probably necessary as she began scrambling off the chair.

Anita had just closed her door again and looked up sharply at Perdita's voice. "What? Oh calm down, Perdy, he was right there," she said with an eye roll and she craned her neck too but didn't see the baby. "Or-- " she blinked. "Oh uh--"

Paul "What?" said Paul, his own head turning sharp at Perdy's voice. "Wait, what?" He dropped the ruined streamer anyway and hopped down from the chair, rounding along the couch in search of his son. But he-- wasn't there. "What the hell, where the hell?" He turned around, eyes scouring the room.

Roger turned around immediately, walking towards the center of the room, eyes scanning, on alert. "Er--did he crawl away maybe? Uh, under the sofa?" He dropped to his knees, looking around the floor.

Chester And it was then that Chester-- who had been there all along mind you, enjoying the silly drivel of the Mundus-- appeared sitting on the countertop, Patch in his lap and a knife in his hand. The very same knife that had just been on the kitchen table for that scrum-diddly-umptious cake of theirs!

"Oh, are you looking for this little tot?" He preened. Patch was giggling, reaching out his hand for that big, big knife. "Ooooh, no, no, little Patrick, that's not for /you./ Babies." Chester grinned and brought the knife a little closer.

Perdita No one could find him. Perdita stumbled a little as she got down off the chair, putting her hand against the wall as Paul and Roger frantically searched around. All she could think about was all the things he could be getting into. They'd babyproofed before the children had come over, of course, but Perdita's panicked brain wasn't thinking about that.

And then--out of nowhere materialized--"Ches--" she didn't get his name out before she saw the glint of the knife. Her throat closed up and she couldn't do anything but stand there, her heart pounding as if it was trying to warm her up enough to let her /do something/.

"Paul--" she managed to squeak out, though it was probably hardly loud enough to catch his attention

Anita started at the voice coming from behind, whirling around to see-- Chester Glass of all people on the counter. Her eyes stayed open, her mouth gaping in confusion. She held Penny a little tighter, making the girl whine. She was already upset by the rising voices and the stranger now in their midst. "Wh-- what--?" she breathed out the word, frozen otherwise, exactly where she was.

Paul was not frozen. Paul was the opposite of frozen. His blood turned to fire at once, moving several steps closer like he was going to lunge. He only stopped when the knife in Chester's hand slipped closer, and even then, his body trembled, unable to simply /stay/ still.

"What the hell are you doing? Who the hell is this?" he said hoarsely, glancing fast at Perdy and Anita who seemed to /know/ the man with /Paul's son./ "Give my son to me right now!" he yelled before any of his shellshocked mates could give him an answer. Penny, in Anita's arm, began to cry.

Roger nearly knocked his head on the coffee table, but stood up, instantly on defense, Paul's shout riling him right up. Penny was crying, the girls silent and frozen. Roger glanced from Chester Glass to Patch to the knife gleaming in Chester's hand and his own heart pounded, ready to jump into the fray at a moment's notice, but for now--he was on guard, didn't know what someone like /Chester/ would do with Patch.

Chester glowed after every single reaction, his heart pounding bright and hot in his chest. Nothing like a good surprise, was there? No, nothing. It was worth it-- all this hiding these past few months, being invisible more than not. All the terrorizing he'd caused without anyone to give him due credit. All of it had led up to this moment right here. And all eyes were on him. He was the star, the center of attention. He was the puppetmaster, and the show was going to go according to plan. He adjusted the tot in his lap, the little buddy still trying to grab at the knife.

"Oh /hush,/ handsome male lead, you're making the other one /cry,/" he said with a fake pout. Then smiled again. "We haven't met, have we? You're Paul-- I'm Chester. Well, that's not entirely true. I'm Alfred Dearly. Ooooo, spooky!" He giggled. "Not the dead one, the alive one. I'm his son. Anita, darling, so glad to finally make your acquaintance."

Perdita Paul's shouting only made Perdita's blood chill faster. She hated that. She hated the yelling, the knife getting closer to Patrick's neck. Penelope crying. She'd only put him down for a moment--just a moment. She wanted her baby in her arms more than she ever had. Either of them, both of them. The urge was so strong she wasn't listening to a word that Chester was saying, she didn't /care/ what he was saying. She just wanted her baby back.

Anita 's head spun, her face twisting with every word he said. None of that made /any/ sense. She had known Chester Glass. He was a prankster, yes, but not malicious. And he'd not been in town. Hadn't he moved away or something? She had no idea because he had just been a tiny blip on her radar, and certainly not-- not what he claimed to be.

"That's not /true,/ I -- I don't have a brother," she said with her voice high but sharp. "You're lying, you're-- you're /insane./"

Paul inched a tiny bit forward, eyes darting from Chester to Anita. "What's it matter anyway? Got /nothing/ to do with Pat," he said. "Leave him out of this, he's just a kid."

Roger nodded along with Paul. "Yeah--it's not him--he's got nothing to do with this."

Chester "Oh /I/ know that, he's just a hostage. Of course I don't want to hurt the little bugger, but I will if I have to," Chester said quite amicably. His legs swung a bit. He was getting a real kick out of all this, the boys as alert as puppy dogs, Perdita coming apart, and Anita-- well, she was the problem.

"Now, if Anita will just be so kind as to jump off the balcony and kill herself, then I will be on my way." He smiled sweetly. "Your daddy's waiting, Sister Dearly."

Perdita Paul's voice--softer now, but still strong, helped. He wasn't scared (okay, maybe he was, but he wasn't showing it, he wasn't coming apart--Roger too) and that helped. She still didn't move but she managed to hiccup a breath in--the first one she'd taken since Chester had appeared--and clear away some of the panic. Now, it all clicked together. Chester Glass--who'd she'd been working alongside for the better part of year--was her best friend's /brother/, or so he claimed.

And he wanted--for whatever reason--for Anita to die. Perdita's heart clenched, but still--she didn't say anything, couldn't. Too afraid that anything would set Chester off.

Anita "Wh-- /what/? Because you /think/ I'm your sister?" exclaimed Anita. And even as she did, though, the pieces were clicking for her too-- Chester the invisible boy slinking into her flat, Chester the invisible boy writing scary messages on the door, Chester the invisible boy somehow getting her photographs. She hadn't been haunted. It'd been a trap.

Chester "I know you're my sister. Oh, it's a long, long story-- but the summary is this. Your parents gave me away because I said Magick. While /you/ lived your life of horse races and champagne flutes, /I/ was an orphan. This--" he made a grand sweeping gesture with his knife, which made Paul flinch and make a strangling noise, "-- is my revenge plan. Now, at first I just wanted you to be miserable with a frozen heart but APPARENTLY you're having the time of your life, so that won't do. The only choice is for you. To jump." He brought the knife back toward Patch. "Or I'll saw the tyke's head off."

Anita There was a beat, a single beat. A second of silence, in which Paul Patts did not object, Perdita said nothing, and Roger, too, remained silent. It was a second where Anita looked around, her eyes catching that balcony door that, for now, remained shut. And truthfully-- she was waiting for /someone/ to object. For her friends, who she had known for the best years of her life, to say something. They didn't. It was just her and Chester, the knife glinting under the light, Patch squirming, getting restless, starting to panic too. She was supposed to give up her life for that wiggling, pink thing. Tiny. Helpless. Ugly (if they were all very honest with themselves). Part of her wanted to object and just say no, but the more Patch squirmed, the more empty her heart felt.

The silence turned into two, three seconds, and Anita's shoulders slumped, her face getting softer.

"Alright," she said. She looked at Perdita. "Perdy, you should come hold Penny while I do this."

Roger "Anita, you can't do this." Roger was still firmly planted where he stood, worried that the slightest motion towards Anita would cause Chester to slit Patch's throat. His heart was hammering away—he did not want Anita to jump, did not want anything to happen to Paul’s babies, there had to be /something/ they could do. "Please--" He looked at Chester now. "There must be /something/ else we can do for you."

Perdita's face changed as soon as Anita agreed. Her brows knitted and she turned her head sharply towards her friend, golden hair flying wildly about her shoulders.

"What? No." She didn't even think about her baby, not in that second. She was thinking about her friend. Her dearest friend in the whole world. Of course, the next second Roger spoke up and Perdita was looking at her baby. Perdita Faye had a very strong heart, it was iron wrapped in steel, but in that moment, it felt soft as cotton, and it ripped in half just as easily.

Paul did not take his eyes off his son. He inched, careful, slow, miniscule. Every time Chester's eyes bounced wildly around the room, he took a chance and took a centimeter. He had no real plan but he knew that he wasn't gonna let Patch die. Roger, Anita, and Perdy could just buy him enough time, he'd figure it out, he'd find a way-- he'd save him.

Chester grinned, ear to ear. Predictable, the friends chiming in, bargains hoping to be struck. But Chester would not be satisfied until Anita splat against the concrete. He looked at Roger, who had been in love with Anita-- was he still? He'd toyed with the idea of holding him hostage, but really, the baby was much easier to bully.

"I'm afraid there /isn't/, Mr. Radcliffe. Anita dies or the kid does. Now.." he hopped off the counter, holding a squirming, crying Patch slung in his arm, the tip of the knife pressing against the child's tummy. The father let out a shout, Anita flinching, the mother looking like she might crumple into hysterics at any moment. "Time's a-wasting! Don't make me skewer the lad!"

Anita did let out a tiny shout herself-- all her cool now gone forever, her heart, suddenly, heavy in her chest, squeezing. It felt like there was a knife against it. "No-- don't, I'm doing it, I am, look--" said Anita and she crossed quickly to Perdita, practically shoving Penny in her arms. "It's alright, Perdita, it's fine," said Anita to her, and she squeezed her friend's arm once before she pulled away.

Perdita really did want to crumble to the ground. She didn't know what to do. Of course she didn't, when things really mattered--that's when she crumbled. She'd started crying at some point, tears streaming down her face as Anita shoved Penny into her arms.

"A-Anita," she said, reaching out to grasp at her hand even as she pulled away. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She wanted to tell her to not do it--she didn't want her to do it. She needed Paul and Roger to think of something, to keep this from happening. She couldn't lose Anita, she couldn't lose Patrick. She couldn't lose anyone standing in this room. They were all she had.

Chester "That's right, scurry along!" hummed Chester. Patch wiggled in his arm, flailing his arms dangerously close to the point of his knife.

Anita tore her hand away from Perdy. She did not look at her friend again. She simply faced the task ahead, and at this point, it was good that her heart--though quickly thawing-- was not yet truly unfrozen. Because it was just a list of steps wasn't it? Move the chairs, open the balcony doors, climb onto the railing, and jump.

She was not scared to die. Or if she was, she could not yet feel it. It was just that list of tasks, and then the crying would stop. So she scurried quickly to the chairs and moved them, glancing at Chester for half-a-second before she opened the doors too. Behind her, the crying grew worse-- Perdy was crying now, and it /hurt/ in her chest too, oh, she'd forgotten how that felt. But it did not slow her steps. She moved onto the balcony, right up to the railing and she wrapped her hands around it and looked down.

It was not so far, Anita thought. The fall would be over before she opened her eyes.

Anita glanced again then to her friends over her shoulder. Paul, Perdy-- Roger. Another small spasm of pain in her chest, but she blinked and kept it away. It was probably better this way, Anita thought In a logical sense. Still, she hesitated.

Chester had a very short attention span and this was /really/ moving along slower than he liked. For one, there was about to be a /party/ in here and Chester wanted to time it perfectly so they could walk up to the building and find Anita's dead body in their way. Second of all, the X-factor was going to be on soon and he hadn't set it to record, he figured he'd be /done/ with this by now. So when Anita stopped by the railing and did not swing her legs over, he huffed, the grin lost.

"Get on with it!" Chester called and took several steps toward the balcony, brandishing his knife.

Roger This wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. None of them had asked for this—this town, this magic. Hell hadn’t they had enough, just on their own? Just four fucked up twenty-something year-olds, two poor as dirt, two fallen from riches—just trying to get by, with each other. There shouldn’t be a knife at a one-year old’s throat, Anita should not be walking towards the balcony, face drawn and serious. He was not going to let that happen—Roger was not an impulsive man. He followed Paul, usually, when Paul was impulsive, but Roger thought, Roger thought about what he was going to do before he did it.

Only Roger didn’t think now.

Chester Glass passed him—Chester, who used to tease him, who’d been Puck in the play last year (how ironic, two pairs of lovers), who’d been a pest but a loveable one, who sent everyone lewd texts on holidays—Chester passed him and Roger felt a surge of anger like he’d never felt before and without really thinking, he lunged forward, tackling Chester to the ground.

Chester did not see Roger lunge. He felt it-- felt the man's body slam into his, and then flew through the air, his arm and shoulder smashing nto the ground. Screams erupted from every corner of the room, the baby catapulted from his arms (where it landed, he had no idea!)and Chester slashed wildly with the knife while he got his feet under Roger and kicked at his thighs and groin. "Get--off--OF--ME--!"

Anita Anita saw the whole thing and she could not stop it. Roger lunged, and a scream ripped from her lungs, the sound shattering the leftover ice in her chest. It felt like shards too, scattering through her insides as sharp as the knife that was brandished Roger's way. She pressed her hand on her chest, gasping like she'd lost air. The world spun around her, noises coming from all different directions.

Her knees hit the pavement. When she looked up, she saw Roger and Chester, silver glinting between them, and-- Patch. Her eyes widened. The little boy was on the floor, surrounded by a shimmery, transparent, blue-tinged... shield.

Perdita screamed too, the sound ripping from her lungs like her soul leaving her body. She felt her heart stop in that moment, her eyes not on Roger at all, but on Patch, falling, once again--this time in slow motion, this time with Perdita's eyes right on him. Unknowingly, she had taken several steps forwards, Penny screaming too in her arms, the sound like white noise.

Suddenly a shield materialized around Patrick, so that he bounced against the ground, but didn't actually touch it. She stopped in her tracks, eyes widen. Patrick's eyes were also wide, big and glassy--and then, after a moment, with tear tracks on his face, he looked up at the glimmering shield and giggled.

Paul had been ready, primed to strike. He had not been ready for Roger to leap before him. When it happened, Paul's eyes widened and he shouted "NO!" lunging forward, eyes pinned on his son like he might dive to the floor for him. But he just stumbled toward the mess, the shield comin' outta no where and bouncing against the ground, then rollin' like a marble toward him and Perdy. He didn't even realize that he was grabbing Perdy's arm till the moment when the shield stopped and Patch smiled up at him like nothin' had gone wrong. Then he fell to his knees and reached out for his son despite the shield (because Paul acted, didn't think, just like /Roger/ was supposed to think and not act) and his hand hit the shield like a wall.

"Patrick," he blubbered, but the shield did not move. Paul snapped his eyes back to Rog and Chester and scrambled to his feet to help--

Roger had not thought he would get this far honestly. He didn’t have a plan, he had just lunged forward and Patch had gone flying and he hadn’t thought about that and maybe that wasn’t a good idea—and knife. There was a knife. Chester had a knife and Roger had pinned Chester to the ground by his shoulders, but he still had the knife and before Roger could react, before Roger could pin down Chester’s hands, wrestle the knife from him—there was a sharp pain, a glint of silver, a glint of Chester’s wicked smile.

He didn’t even feel it all at first, just like sometimes in the fist fights he got in with Paul you didn’t notice someone had punched you till after, and he grabbed Chester’s hand, only then noticing that the knife was red. It was between them now, drops falling on Chester, and Roger wrenched it from him, tossing it on the balcony.

“You’re not going to hurt /anyone/,” he growled and that’s when he felt it. The blood first, wet, soaking through his shirt, then the pain—sharp, stabbing, raw, nothing like a broken fist or a blood nose. He winced, but did not loosen his grip.

Chester Now this could have gone better, but despite all that, the adrenaline was kicking through him high speed, his muscles burning in that good, good way that Chester loved. And he was not opposed to having Roger Radcliffe on top of him. He laughed then, laughed harder as Roger wrenched the knife from him, didn't mind as it scattered toward the balcony, toward his sister.

He just looked at Roger, smiled, then disappeared underneath him. Only the drops of blood from Roger marked where he was as he wiggled and kicked Roger again, trying to dislodge him.

Anita was panting when the knife got tossed, skidding her way. It stopped nearly right in front of her, like it was meant for her. She did what anyone would do in that situation: she grabbed it and rose from the ground, nearly tripping on her own clumsy feet. She felt everything now. Her heart was so loud in her ears it felt like a siren, a warning.

"Roger! Roger!" She said as she moved toward him and Chester-- though Chester was invisible now.

Paul "Perdy, call the cops!" Paul said, getting to Roger before Anita did. He made a blind grab for any part of Chester's flailing body, hand colliding with a -- a knee? He grabbed and slammed it down, helping Roger pin him. 'Knock him out, Rog!"

Roger was still in pain, but he raised a hand and punched--something? anything? His hand definitely made contact with something and he punched and then punched and then he gasped. "Paul--" He clutched at his side, fingers now covered with blood, but then with all he had left in him, he curled that bloody hand into a fist and gave another solid punch.

Perdita. blinked at Paul, his voice ringing out loud and strong through the din. With shaking fingers, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and hit dial.

"Hi yes, please come quick there is a manic in my apartment he tried to steal my baby and s-stabbed my friend, p-please help!" She gave the address, the phone still presssd to her ear. She dropped down on on knee and gestured for Patrick. "Come to mama, baby, come here Pat," she said, trying to smile at him but he just smiled back, waving at her through the shimmery shield.

Chester laughed. He laughed until his laughs became manic shrieks, Roger punching the sound from his lungs. A blow to the shoulder, a blow to the ear, a blow straight to the eye. His nose crunched. Blood pooled in his vision. And then one more punch and that sound-- laughter like a hyena-- shut off. But Chester did not materialize back into view. No, his precious, shiny marbles had far flung themselves to every which corner, his brain could not keep them together when unconscious. It was like there was nothing there at all.

Paul "I got you, I got you, mate," panted Paul, pulling Roger gently off the invisible body (nothing but a blood stain in its place). He eased Roger's head into his lap and his eyes went wide at the side of the blood spilling rapidly from Roger's ribcage, soaking one half of his short, even parts of his trouser. Roger's entire hand was covered in blood. "Shit, Rog, you bastard," said Paul in a hoarse voice that did not sound like Paul. It quivered too much. "What've y'done to yourself, eh, mate?" His hand covered Roger's bloody one, pressing hard against the slash to try to stop the bleeding.

Anita fell to her knees at Roger's side at once, letting the knife go. Tears streamed down her face, each one hotter than the last. She felt hot all over now. She didn't realize how cold she'd been. How little had really gotten through. "Roger, oh no, no," she choked on each sob and touched his scratchy cheek so softly, scared she might make everything worse. She'd been the cause for all this, after all. It was her fault, her stupid fault.

Roger "I'm sorry..." Roger said, weakly. He pressed his hand against the wound, but it was--longer than he thought, longer than the span of his hand and blood still flowed around it. way Paul was looking down at him, he felt like a child, like when he’d broken his ankle when trying to do a trick on Paul’s bike and—and Anita was there, right at his side, her hand on his cheek. Was she Anita though? Was she Anita, was this Anita or some cold, distant figure in her place? And Patch—he couldn’t see Patch. Chester had been holding Patch, where was the baby?

“Is Patch okay? Did you get him—I’m sorry I didn’t think. I…it’s my fault.”

Perdita It all happened so fast and Perdita's hand was sweaty around the phone and she was too scared to move closer to Roger. She could see the blood from here, a few feet away. It made her hands tremble and she didn't--she didn't want Roger to die. He'd saved her babies, he'd kept her secret for her, he was her /friend/. At his question, Perdita finally remembered she had legs and she took a few shaky steps forwards, so that she was in Roger's line of sight if he lifted his head. Could he lift his head?

"H-he's fine--he's--well, he's--" she didn't really have the words "--more than fine, really." Her lips trembled and she pressed them together. "T-thank you." Had she ever said that? For before? She should've.

Anita sobbed again as Roger apologized. All she wanted to do was put her head on his chest and hold him. She couldn't do that. He was covered in blood, the slash big and /everywhere/ or so it felt to Anita, though everything looked blurry through her tears.

"Oh Rog, you /are/ an idiot," she blubbered, but she leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Thank you, oh, thank you--" his cheek, then his other cheek. She hiccuped and sat up straight at the sound of sirens coming through the open balcony door. Oh thank goodness. She grasped at Roger's hand not currently pressed to Roger's side. "I-it's ok, you'll-- you'll be alright, I promise, everything-- everything's going to be /fine./" And she managed to smile at him through her tears and squeeze his hand.

ANITA  If you asked Anita, everything in her life was going, for the first time since leaving for uni, perfectly. She had been hired as an event coordinator at the community centre, all that volunteering finally paying off. She was directing the play this year (had volunteered to step up to the role to help Mr. Foley out without a single hesitance) and had a decent sized flat with her best mate, Perdita The babies were still with Paul, so no more of that annoying crying—and Viola was with Roger, so none of that pesky whining. 

She rose full of strength and energy and glided through her day without a worry as she arranged her checklist and crossed off each and every item. In fact, she barely noticed the hours past. Only at night did Anita feel a little—strange—and she looked out at the balcony wondering why she was restless, after having done everything that she needed and wanted to do. But ah well. The next day came and Anita didn’t have to worry about that either. 

Today was one of these days, an extra hop in her step that had been there since the masquerade (a good shag will do that for a girl; Alasdair was a /good/ shag, as she shared in detail with Perdita). She entered her apartment with fresh groceries and a plan on the tip of her tongue—

“Perdy, are you here? I was thinking we could go out to Pixie to—“ And then Anita stopped in her tracks. Because as she turned around, she saw Perdita, Paul, Roger, the babies—even Viola—all gathered in her living room. Anita raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, was there a party I wasn’t invited to?”

PERDITA Perdita was the first to notice that things had been...off with Anita. At first, she'd just thought that it was--because of the ghostly hauntings. Every time Perdita walked by the balcony, where they'd since gotten the doors replaced, a little shiver ran down her spine, and she knew it must be affecting Anita tenfold. But, it didn't go away, in fact, it got worse. Much worse. The day that Anita had paraded into the flat, dragging Perdita by the wrist to the couch to regale her (in detail that Perdita certainly did not want to know) about her escapade with Roger, she knew something was wrong.

She'd talked about it with her therapist--feeling crazy herself, even as her gut instinct screamed at her. Eventually, she'd broken down (after the Alasdair incident) and texted both Roger and Paul in a group message, who had readily agreed with her that things were certainly off. 

Which was how they found themselves here, now, staging, what? An intervention? Perdita had been pacing nervously, Penny on her hip when the door opened. She'd stopped in the middle of the living room, shifting Penny a little higher. 

"N-no," she said, and then glanced at Paul, chewing on her lip slightly. "We just--why don't you come sit down?" she beckoned her, voice soft, like she might frighten her. Viola, who had been sitting next to Roger, trotted over to Anita, though her ears were back and her tail did not wag as it should. Perdita cleared her throat a little.

PAUL Some things to get straight: Paul was here for two reasons, and two reasons only: 1. Perdita and 2. Roger. 

At first, he'd not been happy about the idea of being in a room with Anita again after all that'd gone down between her and Roger in just one short year. He'd always envisioned that when it happened, he'd get to tell her /off/, not sit down and pat her knee and tell her he was /here/ for her and all that sort of bull. But Roger was looking worse by the day (he'd been miserable for too long) and Perdy had asked him and-- Paul didn't want Anita leaving Perdy alone too, if she really was having a mental breakdown, so here he was. 

He had Patch in his arms, standing right up against the balcony doors. He bit his tongue so he didn't say anything equally as snarky to Anita. In fact, he just held his tongue. He'd chime in after he had something to say.

ROGER The whole situation had him all sorts of concerned. Not that--well, yeah, he felt like shit. Like Anita just tossed him aside after getting what she wanted (did she want that? From the beginning?). It didn't make sense though. Why /now/ of all times? And, 'course, yeah he felt bad for himself, but he'd seen her flounce off with that older fellow at the masquerade and that seemed very un-Anita-like. 

But he tried to tell himself that she was happy, she was doing what she needed to do, and then he'd gotten the text from Perdita and felt relieved. Like he wasn't making this all up in his head. He sat next to Paul now, watching as Viola trotted over to Anita, then flicked his eyes towards Anita, trying to get a read--if any--on her face. It would be better for Perdita to take the lead, he thought, but offered a small smile to let Anita know they weren't ganging up on her.

ANITA  Anita didn't care about Roger's little smile. Or Perdita's. Or Paul's wary eyes or the dog that was approaching her, as though she was some sort of stranger. It was to Viola that Anita's eye dropped now and she waved her hand a little, shooing Viola away, and the pup turned and skitted right over to Roger, which made sense as he smelled a lot like dog these days. 

And after she looked back up at Perdy and sighed. "Well, alright, if that's what you want," she said, and she smiled a little because she didn't want Perdita upset, even though she figured her friend-- and the boys-- were probably overreacting. Anita made her way to the couch and plopped down on the cushion, flicking some of her hair over her shoulder as she crossed her legs. "There we go. So. Go on. What have I done now?" She teased, smirking.

PERDITA Perdita watched with worried eyes as Anita shooed Viola away. It was the nail in the proverbial coffin, if you asked her. Anita loved her dalmatian more than anything. When she'd brought Viola to Perdita, in tears, crying about how she couldn't keep her since she had to leave, Perdita was afraid that Anita would fall apart without her faithful hound. 

"Thank you," she said, meeting Anita on the couch and perching on it next to her dearest friend. She looked up at Paul again, as if to make sure he was still there. He was there, after all, more for her than Anita.

"Well, uhm, we just--we're all concerned. We know you've been going through a lot lately, and we want you to know we're here for you, but--but well, we--" she pressed her lips together, "--we're just concerned, is all."

PAUL Paul nearly barked at Anita then: /Sides being a bitch?/ He managed to hold his tongue though, shifting Patch up in his arms and turning his eyes on his son. Patch smiled at him, his cheeks all rosy.

And that made Paul smile too, and as he glanced back at Anita, he did feel a glimmer of fondness for the girl he used to consider one of his best mates. And Perdy was right; she'd been through a lot. 

"It's hard losin' someone," he said, kindly even. He glanced at Roger. "No one knows that more than me and Rog."

ROGER Roger let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, his left hand fiddling with the fabric on his right sleeve, and he looked back up at Anita. "We just want to let you know that you can talk to us," he said and it made his heart hurt, but he said it anyway. 

He wondered if she could see right through him, if she'd always been able to, if she thought of him and turned her nose up and laughed nowadays. He jiggled his foot slightly. 

"It's hard to bear it on your own and we..." His voice trailed off. He swallowed. "What Perdita said. We're concerned."

ANITA  Anita stared at them three. Her eyes bounced between them: Perdita, Paul, Roger, then back to Perdita. She was waiting for there to be /more/ to this strange intervention, something that made sense. But the more never came. Silence came, a little pause, that Anita figured she should fill, and so her eyebrows crinkled together. 

"This is-- all very unnecessary," she said. "Sweet, but-- I'm fine. I told Roger that weeks ago-- I'm not sad or grieving or worried or -- or being haunted." She rolled her eyes. That had been so dramatic. "In fact, I think I feel the best I've ever felt. My father's moved on, and so have I."

PERDITA  "That's the problem," Perdita said at once, and then paused. She glanced at Paul again. "I-I've never lost anyone close to me, but--I--I know people who have and it's not just...you don't just move on. I'm glad you're father is...at rest, but, you--it doesn't seem natural not to be upset, Anita. /I'm/ upset. I loved your father like he was part of my own family. I can't imagine what you're going through but this--sleeping around...being...rude--it's not the way to get over it. It's not...you." She gave Anita's hand a little squeeze.

ANITA "I'm not being rude," Anita said and she pulled her hand away from Perdita very fast. She even shifted farther away. "I'm being honest. I'm being straightforward. In fact, I think I'm being quite a lot like you, Perdita, so I don't see why you're faulting me for my confidence. /Alasdair/ loved my confidence," Anita said, lifting her chin and smirking. 

"He said I was like a completely different person and I agree. And this version of me is much, much better."

PERDITA "But you /are/ a different person," Perdita snapped right back. "And I'm not rude to the people I care about." Perdita glanced at Roger, but looked away again quickly. "It's not--there's nothing wrong with confidence, but this just...developed overnight. One day you hardly wanted to get out of bed, and now--"

ANITA /Not rude to the people I care about./ That was the bit that stuck with Anita and she raised her eyebrows and leaned back a little. "Oh, is this-- is this because I'm not "in love" with Roger?" She rolled her eyes and shook her head. 

"Goodness, this isn't a fairytale, Perdita. Look, Roger's a mate. We're still friends. I just-- didn't feel anything when we slept together." She shrugged. "I thought I would, I really did, and it was-- really Roger, it was wonderful-- but I didn't feel anything. It was just sex."

ROGER Roger had already felt like he was being kick in the gut, but now it was like he had no guts at all. Like someone had taken an ice cream scoop and just hollowed him out and he was just staring at Anita, as if looking at her for the first time, feeling like--like nothing and like everything. His foot jiggled a little faster and he did his best to just keep his face neutral and nod along.

PAUL  "Alright, that's /it/, I'm callin it!" Paul exclaimed, taking almost a threatening step toward the couch where his friends sat. Patch squirmed in his arms, making a little noise at Paul's outburst. 

"She's possessed. That's right, we're /all/ thinking it, so let's just say what it is. We live in a /magic/ town where /magic/ demons threaten people's lives and /magic hell hounds/ run amuck, so I'd say the odds of Anita's weird ghost dad or /something/ taking control of her are pretty high because nothing else makes sense. I say we tie her up. I'm not kidding, Perdy, give Penn to Roger and grab her."

ROGER Roger was stunned for a second, but then shook his head, gesturing to Paul. "Paul--even if she were possessed--what the bloody hell are we going to do after we tie her up?"

ANITA  "Oh for goodness sakes," said Anita and rolled her eyes. "Paul, you've been reading too many books."

PERDITA Perdita was stunned into silence by Paul's outburst, looking at him like /he'd/ been the one that was possessed. She clutched Penny tighter, whose face crumpled a bit at the yelling. Her eyes flicked to Roger as he spoke and then jumped to Anita, her brain scrambled. Perdita didn't do well in situations like this, she didn't jump into action like Paul did; she'd rather hide behind him. But, it made sense--didn't it. 

She pressed her lips together and turned back to Anita, putting her hand on her friend's again. "A-are you sure? Has anything--odd happened to you in the last week or so? A-anything at all?"

PAUL Paul really didn't know why they thought /he/ was the crazy one when /Perdy/ was the one with a haunted apartment and Roger had been threatened by the ghost of Mr. Dearly himself. And it was like Anita and Perdy both said-- she was a /completely different person./ 

That was basically a confession. 

"Yes-- exactly, Perdy. See, /that's/ what we'd do. Interrogate her, figure out what happened-- do an exorcism or somethin'!" He shrugged his shoulders, then looked straight at Anita. "Answer the question."

ROGER  Roger did not want to chime in that none of them could perform an exorcism. Instead, he just looked at Anita, eyebrows raised slightly.

ANITA Anita still thought this was ridiculous. She knew good and well that she was not possessed. Though-- well, she did know what had changed. She remembered a little 'before' the meeting with Elsa and how she'd not wanted to worry her friends and that was why she did not tell them. Afterward, it just seemed irrelevant. 

But if she didn't tell them, Paul Patts, in true Patts idiocy, would probably start throwing holy water at her face and chanting some ridiculous gibberish, and that was even more pointless than all of that. It was three against one. It was only logical (and what did she care anyway?) that she inform her friends of what happened to her. 

"Alright, if it will put your minds at ease," she said and then turned her smile a little to Perdy, because Paul's face annoyed her and Roger just looked so sad-- and it made her chest feel too heavy which she did not like. It had not felt that heavy for weeks now. 

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd just tell me to go to the police and it would get nothing done. But my father left me one last message to go see Elsa Arendelle and ask her for peace. For my father. To make everything better. So I went and she froze my heart-- but it's /fine./" She smiled even brighter, figuring that might help Perdy stay calm. "Really Perdita, I /told/ you I feel better. I'm not sad or confused anymore. I finally say what I mean. Before I was just such a silly little thing, crying all the time." She waved her free hand at herself. "So see, there's nothing to be worried about."

PERDITA Her heart was frozen. Well, that made a fuckton of sense. Did it make it an easier pill to swallow? No, not at all. 

Anita smiled at her, and she looked just like Anita, her eyes even twinkled the same way--but, it was not her. It wasn't Anita. Because Anita always followed her heart (or, well, she tried to--either way, she felt very deeply, always.) 

"You--your--heart. You /froze/ your /heart/?" Perdita's voice climbed with every word in fear and disbelief. It caused Penny to look up at her mother, face still crumpled.

PAUL It was dead quiet for a second before Perdy spoke, Paul just staring at Anita. He'd been really on board with the whole possession thing. It followed the narrative arc, if you asked him, considering all the spooky bullshit that had been going on. 

But he knew nothing about a frozen heart. He didn't even know that magic could do that-- freeze someone's heart-- and the thought made a chill move through him too. He cupped his hand over Patch's head, tucking it against his own rapidly beating heart and bit at his lip. 

"Can-- can we -- undo it?" He finally blurted after Perdy.

ROGER Roger felt like his own heart had been frozen, the way it chilled at Anita's words. He was staring at some fixed point on the wall. 

"Well, are you happy, Anita?" he asked, after everyone else had spoken, his heart thumping hard (it almost felt like it was choking him). "Because you--you don't have to undo anything."

Anita  Anita was about to say that exact thing. That she did not /want/ to undo it. She opened her mouth and everything, only for Roger's voice to come out of nowhere. Her eyes jumped to him and her chest did that thing again and for a moment-- just a moment-- just wished that Roger would look at her. But then she flicked her eyes away too and everything sorted itself back out again.

"Well. First of all, Elsa froze my heart," she corrected Perdita. "And second of all--" her words caught in her throat, like she was hesitating. It was a funny thing, happiness. She assumed that's how she felt, because it was much better than how she did feel before. Right? 

"I think I'm better this way, like I said."

PERDITA Perdita felt her eyes feel with tears. One of them slipped out in shock as she turned to look at Roger, her mouth twisting down into a frown. Part of her--well, didn't agree with him, but she understood where he was coming from. He was giving up. Perdita did a lot of giving up, a lot of running--it was kind of her "thing" but it shouldn't be anyone else's, least of all Anita's. 

Her heart burned for all the pain that Anita couldn't feel at the moment. She swallowed and looked down at the cushion between them. 

"But, you're not--you," she told her friend softly. "Not like this. We--can--you can be happy. Not like this." Her voice caught at the end as she looked back up at Anita, blue eyes shimmering with tears.

PAUL  Paul also looked at Roger. And he regretted every time he'd told him to stop loving Anita. He felt like a damn hypocrite (both of them knew that) but never more than right now when it looked like, finally, Roger was gonna listen. But Paul didn't want one of his mates to be some kind of frozen robot (because thats' definitely what this Anita was-- she'd accused him of /reading too much/ like /what the fuck/) and the other to be so brokenhearted he'd give up. 

And maybe that's cuz Paul didn't know how to give up. He really didn't. He was here in Swynlake wasn't he, after having smashed his heart into the concrete over four months? He sighed then, shaking his head. 

"That doesn't even sound like happiness to me," said Paul. And then, even more confidently: "Sounds like bullshit, Anita. You'd know it too if -- y'know-- you didn't have a bloody frozen heart."

ROGER  Roger wanted to listen to Paul and Perdita. Wanted to believe that they could help Anita--that they could snap their fingers and Anita would be back to normal. He just didn't know if he could. Because even if Anita said she wanted her heart back--what could they even do? 

He managed to tear his eyes away from the wall and looked at Paul first, which gave him a bit more strength, enough to take a deep breath and look at Anita.

"I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice was steadier than he thought it would be. “I should’ve…I should’ve done more for you.” /If you even wanted my help anyway,/ he thought, and then looked up, blinking. “But we’re all here—Anita, please. We can help you.”

ANITA  Anita was baffled. This whole thing from the beginning to the end... it was like they were all speaking a different language than her, or seeing things a way that she no longer did. 

And because of that, Anita realized for the first time since these weeks began that she was alone, wasn't she? She blinked at the thought. Being alone would not kill her, of course. Being alone was a fact of life, she added internally to this line of thought. You were born alone, you died alone. You grieved alone. She'd not understood the lesson her father was trying to teach her in all this, but perhaps it was simply that: she was alone. Even as her friends told her quite clearly that she wasn't. 

"I just don't...understand," she said finally, her brow furrowing. She looked up at the light fixture in the ceiling and it was not unlike how Anita used to daydream. She looked back then at all three at them: Perdy-- Paul-- and finally Roger. 

She spoke to him in the end. "I don't see what's wrong with this me. I don't know why you'd want the old me back."

ROGER  Maybe this was what Anita wanted. Roger could not imagine living without a heart. Yes, it grew heavy. When his father died, it felt like lead—a cold, hard, heavy lump dragging him down. It could be the heaviest, most painful thing in the world and yet—yet it could be the lightest, it could carry you far far away, make you feel like you were leaping over buildings, soaring among the clouds. He’d take it all over nothing. 

And he thought—he thought Anita would too. She must have been so scared, he thought, to make that choice. To listen to the ghost who wanted nothing more than to torment her. That’s what the ghost wanted—it didn’t make /sense/ that this would be a good thing for her—the ghost wanted her to /suffer/. Which meant—she didn’t want this. She was cold and frozen and she did not know that this was exactly what the ghost wanted. 

So he had to try. 

“We want the old you back—because she was…is…lovely. She sees the world in a golden sky. She dreams. She gives me books with little notes in them. And we love her, Anita—all of us. We love you. Through the good and through the bad.”

ANITA  Anita got that heavy feeling again. But her confusion was greater. Again, her brow furrowed, and she was distracted from Roger because Perdy had begun to cry, and that bewildered her too. 

She looked at Perdy again, almost-- frightened-- unsure what to do to get her to stop (which was not very Anita at all). All she did know that all her friends were very upset and she did not know how to fix it. 

"But-- but Roger-- those things-- dreams and-- romance novels and secret notes-- those things are for children," she said, and she tried to say it very kindly. "Oh Perdita, don't cry," she said next and awkwardly pat her twice on the arm. "I'm not hurt at all, I'm not in any pain."

PERDITA Perdita couldn't stop the way her head bowed and she began to cry. 

The one person who had been there through everything had suddenly turned into some sort of unfeeling doppelganger, she wasn't Perdita's Anita at all. Perdy couldn't lose her. She'd already lost Paul and Roger too, if she'd ever had him. She didn't even know if she had her babies' affection, and she certainly didn't have any other friends, at least none that were close to her.

With Anita sitting there, saying things so un-Anita, acting so un-Anita, Perdita too, felt so, so alone. The words of supposed comfort did nothing to make the feeling go away. In fact, it made it worse.

"But you don't love us," Perdita whimpered and wiped at her eyes. "I-if your heart is frozen you--you don't l-love /us/, me. How is that fair? I love you, so much."

PAUL Paul was reeling from all this. Every word was another dagger thrown, and it kept hitting its mark. He couldn't believe something like this was even possible, that /magic/ could take someone and change them entirely, so they didn't even believe what they'd once held so dear. It terrified him. It made him wanna run and it made him wanna fight because he couldn't imagine ended up like that, literally heartless and loving, like Perdita said-- nobody. 

He shook his head, Perdy's tears triggering that fight response in him too. Needed to /do/ something. Needed to change this. It wasn't too late, it couldn't be. 

He was shaking his head without even realizing it. "This isn't gonna-- we're not gonna let this go on," he said it, he insisted. His eyes jumped from Perdy and then Roger and he pledged it to them both-- damned what Bodysnatched-Anita thought. "We're gonna fix it."

ROGER  Without even realizing it, he blinked away tears. Roger was not a loud crier; but he was not one of those blokes who didn't cry, who thought that it was beneath him. Roger cried. Not often, but he did. And it snuck up on him whenever it happened, because he would always be doing so well till that moment and then he was blinking and his vision was blurry and it was the sound of Perdita whimpering that really got him. 

Anita did not love him--them--any of them right now. She was alone, cold and alone. He wanted to believe Paul, but Paul had a way of jumping into things and pledging to do them without really thinking of it. How the hell were three Mundus with not a lick of magic on them--three Mundus struggling to pay their own bills--supposed to reverse this...whatever it was? They could try, they could try, they could try. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. 

"Yeah," was all he could manage to say, for his throat felt like closing.

ANITA Anita almost wanted to argue, but what was the point of that? She wanted to point out that love was a fairytale too-- that it faded or it turned sour, that love never stayed. That she was strong now and she respected her friends, and that was better than any love. 

She knew all of that would be met with more hysteria. And the more her friends cried, the more Anita felt like she should not be sitting there at all, that her friends were further and further away now-- and she would have to find new friends, wouldn't she, who would understand her-- but none would quite like these. 

And as silly as it was to cling to old friends out of habit, part of Anita (and she couldn't explain it-- it was irrational) /didn't/ want to lose them. She almost wanted to shout at them, really, for all this. Just start shouting /stop crying, stop complaining, stop being so stupid./ 

Instead, she raised her hand and rubbed over her chest a bit uncomfortably. And then she stood up. 

"Well I can't stop you all from doing whatever it is...you /think/ is right. You may...try whatever you please." said Anita. "But I'm going to my room. I have a script that needs annotating. Roger-- I'm... sorry," she said, almost frowning at the word. It wasn't the right word. Her chest twinged again. 

"Perdita, if you feel better, we should go clubbing later. And Paul--" she looked at him last and squinted her eyes a little. "... Good bye."