Virga City

Clem had made one last plaintive plea to her mother early one morning in the week before Charlotte’s funeral after a night of fitful sleep. She’d practically begged, not for her chance to speak, but for her father not to.

Her mother had looked tired. “Clem, I can’t fight him on this, not now,” Camila said wearily, rubbing at the skin under her eyes. They were red-rimmed, as they had been since she’d gotten back. Since before, Clem had to assume.

“You won’t,” Clem argued back, though her words lacked their usual bite. She was despairing. She knew the moment she said it, though, how unfair she was being. But Clem couldn’t take it back, she bit her tongue.

Camila sighed. “Maybe,” she admitted. Clem wished she understood people more, if only so she could comprehend the sadness on her mother’s face. Instead, she left in a huff, anger on her tail (the only emotion she could reliably feel right now, other than sadness).

She couldn’t complain to Jason about it. Jason, who was far more fragile than even she was in Robert Whitefield’s presence. She thought about calling Ryan or Trey, but held back, it was almost finals, and they’d already lost enough class time to grief and fear. There was no one to rage to and so Clem held it close, let it curdle and grow into resentment. It was so easy.

Clem thought, briefly, of calling Niko. She could tell him everything, and she knew he would side with her. But the everything she was willing to tell him wasn’t everything. And she knew that it would just lead to questions she couldn’t, or at least wouldn’t, answer. So, while her thumb hovered over the call button, his number selected on her phone screen, she never pressed it. Jason asked her to, once, said he’d gone over to see Nineteen and Niko had asked about her. It was maybe the longest they’d gone without speaking since the day they’d agreed to work on solving the Go Green crimes together. It felt strange, out of body even. But she still told Jason, “Later.” They both knew why, they just didn’t say it.

The funeral loomed heavy over the Whitefield household in the ensuing week, and the sky seemed to echo the interminable gloom. Heavy clouds, scattered rain, it fit how Clem felt. She avoided her father as much as possible. And when it wasn’t, she stayed quiet. The bruises on the skin where her neck met her shoulder and her face purpled and changed with the passing days, but he didn’t add new ones. Clem was thankful. By the time the funeral came, they’d be easier to cover up, yellower than they were after that first night.

The morning of the funeral they awoke to rain. And Clem, to a black dress her mother had set on top of her dresser. She sat on her bed until fifteen minutes before they were supposed to leave, staring at the dress, at her hands, not sure what to make of it. But then her mother entered, coaxed her into it, and brushed her hair from her face like she had when she was a little girl. But unlike when Clem was a little girl, she didn’t struggle with her mother, she didn’t strain or complain, she just didn’t have the energy for it.

The drive to the church (an institution Charlotte hadn’t entered in years, insisting she and God were just fine on their own, thank you very much) was stiff and silent. A few of the boys had gone early to help set up, including their father. Camila drove Clem, Nelson, and Brian there. She probably should’ve offered to drive, as the only sound punctuating the silence in the car, other than Brian’s incessant tapping, was their mother’s sniffles from the driver’s seat. But she didn’t.

She did, however, let her mom hang on her arm as they walked inside. Clem led her to her seat, though she quickly abandoned both her parents for where her brothers had gathered in the atrium to greet people. The last thing Clem wanted to do was greet people, but she wanted to be alone even less. Clem stood in the back, hidden as best as she could behind the heads of her siblings. But she saw the way the guests’ eyes caught on her face, how they leaned and whispered once they’d turned away, and it told her everything she needed to know about what they were thinking.

Then, Clem spotted familiar colors across the room. “Niko,” she whispered aloud, unthinkingly.

His eyes caught hers then, almost like he’d heard her. He crossed the room, Nineteen in tow, though her eyes and hands reached for Jason and not Clem. Niko’s face looked sympathetic in a way that might’ve rankled Clem earlier, but felt more genuine coming from him than anyone else. “Hey Clem,” he said, his lips a ghost of a smile at the sight of her.

Virga city’s clouds passed without interruption while Niko’s family began to reassemble their lives. Soon after identifying Bade, Nine returned home. The lines on her face didn’t reveal any further trauma but everyone doubted those thirty minutes weren’t seared into her skull. She had had no doubt, outside of the reigning typical doubt of her reality. She held Niko’s hands harder sometimes, would begin to ask for permission for something and then shake her head. They began alternating whose bed they rested in at night. Niko managed sleep, dreamless and mostly confused, but Nine described her own nighttime ritual as prolonged blinking. 

Jason visited, but no Clem. He extended invitations to Charlotte’s funeral. Niko let Jason and Nine have their time together. Nine would clench Jason’s hands, and he remembered catching a glance of her eyes closed as they cupped each other’s heads. Jason’s eyes focused, taut. He hung out by the exit for when it came time and finally asked. Nonchalance was never his strength.

“How’s Clem doin’?” he shuffled. As his brain indexed through answers, Niko realized he didn’t have any idea what he expected from Jason. Clem had been kidnapped. Clem’s grandmother had died. Clem had liked her grandmother. In fact, Clem had probably loved her grandmother. Niko did not know what it was like to have a grandmother, but Charlotte seemed to be a good one for Clem. Clem’s large family was short of a powerful matriarch. All that assessed, Niko still could not find her feelings in their conversations since the escape. She seemed closed off completely.

“She’s Clem,” he pulled a smile. “I think she would appreciate it if you came.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “Shoul’ we bring anythin’?”

Apparently they expected more food than even their family of starving boys could handle, so Jason told him don’t worry about it. Spencer suggested flowers later, but Niko felt hesitant. Clem and Charlotte were birds of a feather, and would Clem want flowers on her grave?

A day before the funeral, Niko and Nine talked to Ichabod. Nine went first while Niko fidgeted in the waiting room. While it was only an hour difference, Niko felt her situation was more urgent. He found out later that she decided to not try pharmaceuticals for now. Instead, Ichabod prescribed certain practices for sleep, mindfulness, and ptsd. Their sessions were increased to three times a week.

When the tears stopped falling and all her siblings wandered off to their own corners of the house, Clem was left alone, sitting on a stool, head in her hands and elbows propped on the counter, heady with relief but unable to do more than sit where she was and breathe. She couldn’t say how long she sat there, but eventually she heard footsteps, heavy, unfamiliar ones, though the voice that spoke wasn’t. “Clementine,” she heard, and her head jerked up to look at her father.

“I need to talk to you about your grandmother’s funeral next week,” he said bluntly. And just like that, all of the strange sort of joy that had filled her since Jason’s news left her in a flash. The stranglehold that memory of that last look of her grandmother had on her constricted her again.

“I understand you were close,” he began. He was next to her now, just a foot or two away. “But your mother and I do not feel you are stable enough to speak at her funeral, though her will indicates she wanted you to.”

There was an unexplainable urge to scoff at the idea, at how ridiculous it was, even as she felt indignant that this choice was being made for her. She didn’t want to speak, in fact, that was probably why her grandmother wanted her to. Charlotte would’ve probably found it funny, in life. But she also wanted to. “Who is going to speak?” she asked after a few seconds, her voice strained.

His eyes were thin, and Clem understood she was walking a fine line already. “Ryan, Jason, your mother and I.”

The first few names made sense, but the last had Clem asking, “You?” in a strangled voice. She knew immediately it was a mistake, knew before the back of his hand collided with her cheek.

It always surprised her, how easy her father’s anger seemed to boil over. She wondered sometimes who he took it out on when she wasn’t around to be his punching bag. Though her cheek stung, he hadn’t hit her hard, so she jut out her chin defiantly and said, “She wouldn’t want you up there.” Her grandmother hated him, it was the last thing she would’ve wanted.

When he spoke his voice was a growl. “I will be up there supporting your mother.”

“I’ll do it,” Clem argued immediately, her voice gaining some volume. She knew, she knew she was poking a bear, but this mattered too much not to. It still mattered too much, even as his hand grabbed at the place where her neck and shoulder met and squeezed tight, enough to make her wince.

“No, Clementine,” he said firmly, even as she squirmed. Clem looked up at him, at his cold, flat eyes, and wondered how he could be so calm and yet...not, all at once.

She managed to yank free and got to her feet. Clem wanted to say more, wanted to yell at him, scream about how he shouldn’t even be coming, but the speed of her standing sent the blood to her head and she was suddenly dizzy. So instead she just left, ignoring the words he lobbed at her retreating back and rubbing the place on her neck where he’d squeezed. She passed Chad in the hallway, and head down and turned away she rushed past him, though she heard him say her name, and into the bathroom.

Her phone began ringing as she locked the bathroom door. Clem ignored it. She didn’t even stop to look at the damage, instead rifling through the back of one of the drawers, pulling out long neglected makeup she knew she’d need. If she’d been...normal when he’d come, she would’ve pulled it out already. It was only then, with her small array of concealers and foundations in front of her, all of which were probably expired, that Clem looked at her face in the mirror. The mark on her cheek was red, and so was the place on her neck she’d been rubbing, but she knew they’d purple quickly, could chart how long until the makeup would be a necessity rather than an option.

It was an easy task to focus on, covering up her mistakes. His mistakes. Easier than focusing on what had just happened. She knew it wasn’t just her. She’d seen more than once when her father grabbed Brian by the shoulder hard enough to make him wince, heard him throw harsh words at all of them, including her mother. Clem had seen her mother flinch enough to know that if she wasn’t his target now, she had been. But...it was worse for her, and in truth she preferred it that way.

Wiping away stray tears and patting her face clean, she went through the familiar task of hiding blooming bruises until the evidence was gone, carefully crafting a lie with brush and powder. When she finished she sat on the counter inspecting her work in the mirror with a strange sort of calm when her phone rang again, Niko’s name lighting up her screen. She hesitated briefly before picking it up. Clem forced herself to respond to his questions, forced herself to be calm and collected and brief. When he asked if they could hang out, Clem’s hand drifted to the hidden bruises and she deflected instinctually. But when he asked how she was, she said she was okay, because she was going to force herself to be.

It was awkward and painful and Clem didn’t know how to force it not to be. Even though Niko was perhaps the only one she wanted to talk to, she just...couldn’t. So she begged off, hung up the phone, and stowed it away in a drawer and pretended the call hadn’t happened.

Anxiety dipped in and out of Nikolai’s bloodstream as he waited to see his sister. When they reunited, it caused hot tears to bubble over. Nine thumbed them out of his eyes, held his face. His heart thumped into her hands. Her vitals machine whirred along without a beep, and the hospital had quieted once again.

Someone had told her, of course, before he got to her. So they didn’t speak about Bade, about how they nodded along with the security and doctors that he was dead, but dormant suspicion irked in their spine. They couldn’t raise their suspicions. Nine particularly didn’t seem eased, more primed for him to pop out of a closet now that he had everyone fooled. But she gained strength from holding her brother’s face.

Spencer came later. He went over details of how they knew it was Bade. They wanted someone to identify him and the police particularly wanted Nine. Nine didn’t hesitate. The appointment was set.

Hero drove Spencer & Niko home soon after. She had made dinner and Niko ate mechanically. His stomach felt nonexistent. He wanted Nine home soon. The doctors planned to discharge her, but it always seemed back and forth. Ichabod planned to see her shortly after, Spencer apparently thought highly of the man. He informed Niko that he, too, would need to start up his appointments soon. They could wait, though, and have his return and her beginning on the same day.

When Niko got away, he called Clem. She was his best friend, he kept telling himself. His tongue was unready to unravel any thoughts, but he thought maybe simply talking to her would create a baseline. Then he could catch his breath. Maybe they could play soccer? She didn’t answer the first, and he decided to play independent and wait another hour to call again. When her voice called, “Hello?” the words sprang abruptly.

“Can you hang?”

She paused. “Not right now.” Another pause. “How’s Nine?”

“She’s good. She’s identifying Bade right now, probably.“ He had purposely meant to not bring him up, but it rolled off. “You heard, right?”

“Yeah, my mom told me.“ Ah, so Camilla was good for something, Niko smirked to himself. Then a pang rose as Charlotte appeared in his mind.

Clem didn’t say anything so Niko continued. “When can we hang you think?“

She paused again. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know though.”

“Okay. How are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?“

“Um,“ Niko thought, “I don’t know. Nine and I hadn’t spent a lot of time together before but...the house feels so empty without her. I don’t know.”

“Yeah,“ Clem said. “Niko, can I call you later?“

Niko suddenly remembered, “Oh yeah! Sorry. I’ll catch you later.“

She didn’t sleep. She lay there, eyes open, for hours. Waiting.

The waiting didn’t end until the sun was peeking over the tops of the trees outside Clem’s bedroom window and exhaustion finally overtook her watchfulness. It was bright out when she was shaken awake gently by Jason, though she couldn’t sure how long she’d been asleep. “I was going to try to run by the hospital to see the Newtons, do you want to come?” Jason asked, still sounding hesitant after their tense conversation from the night before.

Even in her bleary state, Clem was suspicious, so she shook her head, rolled over, and shut her eyes to the blinding rays of sunlight. Jason didn’t say anything else but Clem heard his momentary pause in the silence before he left and shut her bedroom door behind him. It didn’t take long for her to fall back asleep.

Then, it felt like suddenly, another, smaller hand was shaking her awake. “Clem,” she heard her mother say, voice thin. If it had been Jason again Clem probably would’ve ignored him, but for Camilla she opened her eyes. “Clem, I need you to come downstairs, sweetie, okay?”

Panic gripped Clem, assuming the worst immediately. For a moment she lay paralyzed, completely unmoving, even though her mother hadn’t said anything was wrong. “Clem,” Camilla said again, her voice soft and encouraging. Was it Nine? Or Niko? Or Jason even? She could feel her chest constrict, her eyes unfocus, but she forced herself to sit up. It was nothing, she’d just been in bed all day. She told herself that as she got out of bed, as she took her mother’s hand, as they walked down the hallway and downstairs to the kitchen where a few of her brothers were arrayed, Jason in the center like the glue he was.

“Clem, it’s Bade,” he said immediately and without preamble. It was like her strength left her legs, and Clem was thankful that her mother was next to her. Those panicked thoughts whirred through her mind again. But then his next words came. “He’s dead, Clem, the police got him. He’s been shot.”

Her chest loosened slightly, but Clem fought to voice the questions she needed answers to. “Wha-” but she couldn’t finish the word. A deep breath, then, “Where? When?” And perhaps the most important questions, “Niko, is he- Is Nine?”

Jason nodded, the smallest of smiles on his face. It felt wrong and right at the same time. Just like that the tension in Clem’s body left her. She let go of her mother and gripped the counter with both hands, placing her forehead on it like its cool temperature would somehow ground her. “You’re sure?” she murmured, as she held back tears forcefully. She felt Jason’s reassurance rather than heard it as her ears were filled with the sound of white noise. He might have said something about Spencer, but Clem wasn’t sure. She sank to her knees at the confirmation and buried her face between them for a few, brief moments, letting the tears of relief fall. All thoughts of the presence of her family forgotten.

When she finally looked up she only had eyes for Jason. “I don’t-” she started, but she had no words to express what she was feeling.

Niko spent some extra time in the morning sleeping in and helping Spencer around the house. Nothing had really fallen into disarray, but Hero had gotten a little sloppier in her pregnancy and Niko imagined his sister coming home to a sanctuary, not somewhere that orange peels got left by the sink. Niko found himself muttering amusedly, “That pregnant lady sure loves oranges.” A thought floated in that perhaps the best name for their child would be Nectarine, and then they and Clem could wear matching fruit costumes for Halloween.

Clem would never go for that, she probably didn’t even enjoy hanging around babies - but it was still a fun thought.

He made some sandwiches for him and Nine and headed on his way. When he arrived to the hospital, he found he couldn’t park in the lot. Police cars and orange cones lined around. His heart suddenly rammed against his chest. His fingers and hands shook along the wheel as he found a spot as close as possible nearby. Niko’s eyes searched for a sign he’d parked illegally, but nothing sank into his brain anyway. He couldn’t name anything he was seeing.

Thankfully nobody ran him over as he made his way back to the hospital, completely devoid of instinct and reaction. The images started to form into thoughts. Those were cops in uniforms. Those were patients and families going through look-overs as they left. An ambulance jostled inside the bounds while officers scanned its inhabitants. Shortly after, the same thing happened with one blaring its alarms on the way out.

Niko knew and couldn’t say what had happened. His fingertips reached for his phone. Maybe Spencer knew something - maybe he was trying to reach him. But he felt no vibrating, heard only the world shouting incoherently, and felt frozen.

Finally, words of other onlookers rolled into his ears. “Serial killer” and “gunshots” popped in his cortex. His fear of police mixed with his need for information. He was so close but still found himself needing to search the vast depths of the internet to know what was happening. Niko realized as he typed in his phone that his heart was in every inch of his body. 

His elbows, forearms, and knees lightened. His vision blurred. He reached out to the tree next to him and dropped to the ground. He closed his eyes but everything still spun. A moment with his head between his knees eased the vertigo slightly. 

Finally, he rang for Spencer. He answered immediately.

“Bade’s been shot,” Spencer’s voice loomed. “Where are you?”

“Tree,” he breathed. “Nine?”

“She didn’t even know. She’s been in her room waiting for you.”

Nine had been at the hospital too long. She glanced at the cold IV in her arm yet again, thinking she had to have enough fluids in her by now. The cuts along her body were visible but healed or healing. The nurses came by, smiled with their questions, and she forced the chipper response. She was tired of sleeping, tired of visitors, tired of the hospital gowns. Everyone’s eyes glinted at her with fear and sadness - as if she needed any more of that. 

Already exhausted - not physically, but emotionally. Was she going to need therapy again? Was she going to have to retrain her mind, her anxiety, her trust in the universe again? Niko told her stories as the impending work drained her down and she felt herself younger, stronger, protecting him with her stories. He had the glint, too, but she could tell it wasn’t only for her.

She didn’t dare ask the doctors or nurses about when she could go home. What if they accidentally relayed her concerns to her godfather? Nobody needed to grasp how hard of a time she was having. That burden was hers. But the minutes ticked by and she mouthed to herself, “Can I go home now”

Jason was good. So handsome, so attentive. He had worry in his eyes, too, and that fear - but he could listen too. She liked to talk to him about school, about the books she had been reading, about the behavior of the clinical staff. Her easement increased with each minute she spoke. He hadn’t been around since Niko and Clem got flighty, and she wondered if he realized she worried about him, too.

Her eyes lost focus as she stared through her window. Not much to see, just some flowers, some other stone buildings. People walking. The world continued. When would she get to be a part of it again? She wanted to run in leaves. She imagined a picnic, oh so many fruits and chocolate. Tofu tacos. A grin peaked through her mouth.

A scuffle distracted her momentarily. Her head turned slightly to hear, but the voices were muffled and the footsteps far away. She turned farther, eyes rooted to the door, ears expanding. She thought one sounded like one of the officers she spoked to earlier. Maybe Niko did something stupid again. The noise died away and she turned back to her window, fingers fiddling with the hair tie on her wrist.

After enough time with nothing happening in her window, her eyes flickered to the clock. Niko was normally here by now. He didn’t seem to want to miss an opportunity to help. She wondered which of her stories he would revitalize today. Or maybe he could tell her some story where their parents didn’t turn out to be bad people? She sighed.

Clem didn’t feel better after talking to Niko necessarily, but she did feel calmer. The smile that had just barely twitched at the edges of her lips was gone now, but it soothed some of her worries to hear his voice and know he was all right. Even though she knew she’d been paranoid, knew the moment they heard her father’s voice on the radio that she’d made a mistake, there was a part of her that believed that Niko was still in danger until the moment she heard his voice on the other end of the telephone.

She wondered if the fear would ever fully go away.

After they hung up she curled up in a ball on her bed and fell asleep. Her sleep was dreamless and more peaceful than it had been in days, perhaps weeks. When she awoke it was dark out, only the faint light of the street lamp outside illuminated the outlines of her furniture.

She lay there, frozen. No one had come to wake her. What time was it? Fear gripped her again for a moment. First, because she forgot where she was, but then again because she remembered. Her father hadn’t come. Maybe he wouldn’t, but Clem knew that was just naive.

Clem decided she wouldn’t wait for him to come to her, not tonight. She got up and moved gingerly to her bedroom door, only trodding on a few discarded pieces of clothing and books. The hallway was dark and quiet and it was only when she crept down the stairs that she realized it was earlier than she’d thought. There, illuminated in the bright kitchen life, was her family, her whole family, eating dinner together.

She watched from the shadows, observing her mother’s fragility, Jason’s weariness, her father’s calm and collected authority. It was Ryan who spotted her, Ryan who ushered her to sit in the empty seat next to him. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up when she entered. Brian and Nelson smiled upon seeing her but everyone else looked unsure. In the end, they just went back to what they were doing as Clem sat down beside her eldest brother.

“Trey and I have to go back to school soon,” Ryan told her quietly. “Is that okay?”

Clem just shrugged.

“We’ll be back next week for...well, you know.”

She didn’t, but she could guess. “Okay,” she said to him, staring blankly at the empty plate in front of her.

Ryan seemed to notice and piled some food on her plate without any other prompting. Clem spent the next few minutes staring at it, or alternatively poking it with her fork and taking a few hesitant bites. She just wasn’t hungry. After a few minutes that felt like hours she announced, “I’m going back to bed,” and no one argued with her.

The talk with the officers went more quickly than he expected, though he had a feeling his refusal to give detailed answers would mean he’d end up in another “meeting” with them very soon. The case was bigger than VIrga City with Bade involved and it was definitely a courtesy that he’d only had to talk to the local police so far. His chest blocked the fear of a future encounter as he spoke to Nine. She continued to spend a lot of time sleeping, but he was happy telling her stories in the same way she used to narrate to him. He even borrowed some of her original characters.

Partway through a retelling of a red fish living in a mostly deserted swamp, his phone whirred against his leg. He backstepped from her bedside to the hallway, tiptoeing and picturing himself as a horrendous Michael Jackson impersonator.

It was Clem. “Yeah, I’m alrigh’,” he paused, letting her voice fill up his chest. “How’s it goin’ for you?”

“Fine,“ she answered bluntly. “How’s your sister?“

“’Bout as good as anybody could be,“ he shrugged, imagining Clem in Bade’s trap. “I don’ think it helps she’s done this before, but if there’s anybody who could take strength from tha’, it’s my sister. She’s sleeping righ’ now.“

Clem didn’t respond to that immediately enough for Niko, and he realized he didn’t want her to think they were done talking. “Y’know, I haven’ honestly talked to Jason much. How is he doin’?”

“He’s okay,“ she said. “Glad I’m back. Probably worried about Nine. I’ll let him know she’s okay, too.“

“Okay,” he smiled slightly.

“Okay.” He thought he heard her lips spread into her cheeks, but chided himself for projecting.

“Do you know next time you’ll be by the hospital?“ he pried. He probably wouldn’t be able to leave Nine’s side long enough to go to the Whitefield’s. Though her brothers would probably be rambunctious enough to lift his spirits.

“I don’t know,” her lips didn’t sound so perked anymore. “We’ll try soon.“

“Okay,“ he nodded. He stared down the wall in the conversation and couldn’t see through it.

“Okay, well, see you s - say hey to Nine for me,“ she ended it.

“Of course. I’m sure she says Bonjour.”

“Bye, Niko.”

“Bye, Clem.”

It was unbearably quiet in the moments following her father’s hug. Clem had nothing to say, and it seemed like everyone was waiting for her to speak. In the end it was Brian broke the silence. “Shouldn’t we take her back to the hospital?” he asked, sounding confused, “She doesn’t look too well.”

Suddenly Clem felt defensive. Whether it was because of the implication she didn’t look good (she didn’t) or that she didn’t want to go back to the hospital (even if she did want to leave already), all Clem knew was that she snapped, “I’m fine,” at her youngest brother before she could stop herself.

She saw the way her father’s eyes narrowed and wished she hadn’t spoken. Jason must’ve noticed as well, because he interjected. “I’ll call the police, but I think Clem’s okay.” He looked over at her for confirmation and she nodded briefly before turning her eyes to the floor. “She probably just needs rest,” Jason told Brian before turning back to Clem, “We’ll just keep an eye on you and make a decision later, okay?”

Clem felt mutinous for a moment, but in the end she nodded and headed upstairs before anyone could protest. She didn’t realize Jason was following her until he pulled the bedroom door closed behind them. “What?” she snapped. When she caught sight of the look on his face, some mix of pity and frustration Clem frowned and turned away. “What do you want, Jason?” she asked, a little less contentious that time.

“Where were you?” Jason asked curtly.

“At a friend of Niko’s.”

“Why?”

She paused and considered a moment, not sure what to say or how to explain. But she knew she couldn’t, so she just said, “We were scared, okay? Or...I was.”

“Why?” he asked again, like a petulant toddler. But Jason knew what he was asking.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Clem asked rhetorically, and probably a bit cruelly. She saw Jason flinch, saw the way his eyes glanced down at the floor like he could see through it. She shook her head, trying to hold Jason back from those thoughts, “Not him. I just, I heard the police say something that made me panic...that’s all.”

He didn’t question her more about it. Jason’s anger seemed to deplete, leaving mostly a concern that always made Clem feel guilty. “Are you scared now?”

“Why would I be?” Clem said, almost flippantly as she sat down on her bed and stared up at her older brother.

“You know why,” Jason said through gritted teeth. There it was again. Dot dot dot.

She did know why, it was hard to pretend otherwise. They rarely said it out loud, saying it made it real. And yet, for some reason Clem didn’t feel much like holding it back right now. “Because he might hit me?” Clem asked scathingly, “Or, more, will hit me? What are you planning on doing about it Jason?” Call the police? They both knew he wouldn’t do that, maybe even couldn’t. It was easier to ignore when he was gone, but they were reliant on him.

He blanched, and Clem knew she had hit a nerve. She should have felt guilty for the way his face seemed to crumble, the way the fight left his stance, but she didn’t, she just felt vindicated. It was uncomfortable, but it was the truth, and they both knew it. “I want to call Niko and see if he got back fine,” she told Jason firmly. He got the message and left.

As Niko theorized, Spencer was at the hospital. Niko found his way to Nine’s room where her still body rested. Her breaths were still small, as if trying to keep her defaced body imperceptible. He glanced around when he didn’t see Hero’s white form sticking out beside Spencer’s. Niko imagined her standing in line for hospital jello or at home curled with their one-eyed Stray.

Spencer didn’t hear Niko at first, but within a few more footsteps Nine sighed brightly, “Bonsoir, Niko.”

His godfather gazed solidly at Nine, translating. Niko watched the cogs turn in his body and then stiffen as he turned his head to the door. “Nikolai,” he breathed.

“Hey Spencer,” Niko waved weakly. He reflected on all the different times Niko had arrived home after a spinout, or simply walked into the kitchen to find his godfather poised for his return. Sometimes he had been ready - sunny or stoic - and knew the first thing to say. Other times his lips paused and Niko had to start. Unlike Spencer, Niko never knew what to say. He never got used to himself.

“I’m fine,” Niko broke his voice. “I’m sorry. Clem was scared. We were scared.”

Spencer held their gaze.

“She’s home now. Or, she shoul’ be, we haven’ said anythin’ since she left on the bus. Should I go tell the police I’m fine?”

Spencer stared a moment longer before breaking their gaze with a steady shake of his head. “I’ll report to the officers. Though, I have confidence they’ll want to confirm your safety. Remain here with your sister.”

In a moment, Niko and Spencer changed seats. Niko tilted his head to his sister. Her eyes twinkled into his and a grin ripped onto his face. He covered her fingers with his own.

“Are you okay?” he kissed her forehead.

“Oui,” she smiled back at him. Her hand clasped strongly around Niko’s.

“I’m sorry I worried everyone,” he tried. But she shook her head before he could go on. No words. Another pulse of her hand.

Hero entered the doorway with sandwiches and jello. “Ah,” she allowed herself to be surprised for a split second. She strolled and placed the red jello and a spoon on Nine’s end table. “You don’t want a hospital sandwich, do you Niko?” she said with a rather positive hesitation.

It felt like Clem was slowly being constricted from the inside, but instead she was just sitting on a bus headed towards home. It was rote, the trip, she changed lines when she was back at the hospital and got off at the stop that was a short walk to her house. Clem felt a strange combination of numbness and fear that mostly left her hands shaking in her jacket pockets. She thought about Niko, thought about what kind of reception he’d get at home, and felt an itch to reach out, but she hadn’t brought her cell phone when they’d unnecessarily fled the hospital.

She cringed to think about it, and once again guilt washed over her. Suddenly, standing on her own doorstep, she wanted to be anywhere else. Going inside would mean facing the grief she’d cause her mother, Jason, her brothers, would mean facing her father.

Clem wasn’t ready.

She stood there for a few interminable seconds before a deep breath propelled her hand towards the doorbell. Seconds blurred by as she stood there, waiting, shaking still. When Steven finally opened the door it almost felt like a relief, until his small breathy, “Clem?” brought back that feeling of shame.

All she could do was shrug and nod, but it was enough for Steven to barrel into her, wrapping her in a hug that cracked her ribs and both warmed and constricted her fragile spirit. He grabbed her hand and dragged her into the house, and Clem couldn’t summon the energy to begrudge the contact. She didn’t really want to, truly. Steven was yelling to their mother, to Jason and Ryan and all their brothers, but Clem could barely hear him.

When Jason emerged from upstairs he stood there and stared at her for a few seconds, and for a second Clem thought he was going to yell at her. If he did, she deserved it. She wanted to cry looking at the expression on his face,  finding her strange mix of relief and grief and possibly even a small bit of shame there. But then he shook his head and took a step towards her, and without asking, like he normally did, he pulled her into a hug. It was gentler than Steven’s, and yet firmer.

The rest of the reunions passed in a blur of surprised exclamations and forced affection that Clem just let happen. Then her mother appeared at the foot of the stairs, hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes, rooted to the spot. Suddenly tears sprung up in Clem’s eyes. She had done this to her mother, her mother who already lost her mother and had now dealt with her daughter being missing twice. “Mom,” she said, almost pleadingly. She’d never been one to use ‘mom’ before, but it slipped out like a long-forgotten comfort.

Then her mother was running towards her, and her brothers parted like the Red Sea to admit her. Clem hugged her back in a way she hadn’t her brothers, it helped staunch just a little of the guilt that was overwhelming her, but also, in the moment Clem realized she needed it. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into her mother’s flyaway hair. She could feel Camilla shake her head against her shoulder before she broke away.

When Clem saw her mother’s face again there was a small smile on it and she was wiping away at her tears, it wasn’t quite happiness, but it wasn’t anger either. “We’ll have to call the police,” she said hurriedly, her voice still wispy the way it had been for the past few days, but with an undercurrent of happiness that hadn’t been there before, “Just to let them know you’re okay.”

Then, with a sudden awareness, Clem realized someone else had entered the room. She glanced up at him just as her father said, “Clementine,” over the excited din of her brother’s mutterings. They all stopped then, paused and looked at this intruder on their reunion.

“Hello,” Clem said her voice withered rather than the controlled and composed she wanted it to be.

He walked up to her, calm as could be, and to the surprise of everyone in the room Robert Whitefield hugged her. “I’m glad you’re back,” he told her. It was nothing like the hug Clem had shared with her mother, she was rigid in his arms, paralyzed by the contact. She bit back a cry, though his grip was loose and nothing hurt. But his words were kind, and the gesture unlike him, and even though his presence made the tears fall again for entirely different reasons than Camilla’s had, Clem dared to hope for a brief, shining moment that maybe this time it’d be different.

He became a bomb shelter and rundown shed simultaneously. “Clem,” he wanted to say her name. “Hey, Clem, it’s okay.” His fingers flexed, the consequences of touching her shoulder relaying before his eyes. “You don’ think I’ve misunderstood before?” He cracked a smile. “You were jus’ keeping me safe.” While those words were meant for her and the tsunami rising within her, they sunk into him like the embers of a Christmas fireplace. He scanned her again and the warmth in his rib cage blew out with a single cold breath.

He decided against physical reassurance.

He envisioned Nine there, right then, how she would entwine their hands and rest her head against his shoulder or pull his head onto hers. What would she say - how would she fix everything with her voice?

“You’re right, we should go back. But I thin’...we should come at differen’ times. I dunno, it seems best that way. You go first, it looks like your family needs you now.” Spencer would be fine. Hell, Spencer probably assumed Niko was long overdue for an episode and Clem had simply tagged along for support. Well, actually, he wasn’t so sure what his godfather thought of Clem.

Clem nodded. She didn’t appear to have the energy for speaking.

“Let’s get our stuff together. I’ll walk you to the bus stop, okay?”

They didn’t have a lot of stuff, but Niko handed her one of Abe’s apples. He shrugged on one of Abe’s work jackets. He wanted to hide his head best he could walking into town. While they could recognize Clem, sure, he stuck out worse than a fat lip.

“So,” he had wanted to say this a while ago but had been parsing his speech. “Don’ say anythin’ to the police, okay? If you say anythin’, just say we were scared. Don’ say why. But...mostly, don’ say anythin’. We shouldn’ need to. Don’ tell them where I am, but I’ll only be a little behind you. I’m jus’ gonna show up at the hospital. I don’ think Spencer’ll be home.”

“Clementine Whitefield has gone missing again, this time in the company of Nikolai Newton-“

Clem was suddenly rooted to her chair, all of her easy companionship with Niko gone in an instant. She couldn’t really focus well enough to completely comprehend what they were saying. Clem heard something about how they had escaped from the hospital, fears and theories, and she just sat at Abe’s kitchen table unable to move.

It only got worse when whoever was speaking said, “We have Clementine’s father Robert Whitefield here with his family. Mr. Whitefield, I understand you’ve prepared something to say to your daughter, or whoever may have her?”

Then the familiar tones of her father rushed over her. Nothing about the way he spoke could explain the way Clem’s body went rigid at the sound of his voice. He played the part of the concerned father well, so well that Clem almost believed him. Almost. The radio said his wife was with him, and their sons, but as it was the radio Clem couldn’t take comfort in seeing the faces of her brothers.

The first few words were a blur, but they came back into focus when he said her name, “Clementine, if you hear this, come home, please, I promise it’s safe here.” A visible shudder ran through Clem and she clenched the sides of the table, trying to keep Niko from seeing. It was only his next sentence that prompted her to unclench, and wilt. “Your mother needs you, Clementine.” He said other things, things directed at Bade, or whoever might’ve taken her, words directed at people who might know something about her location, but the only one that mattered to Clem in the end was that last sentence.

She didn’t need to see her mother to know Camilla was in shambles. Guilt wracked her. Clem brought her slightly shaking hands to her face, she’d always been good at hiding her emotions, but these past few days had left her rough and raw, and it was the only way she knew to not reveal everything to Niko.

“Clem?” he questioned.

Clem didn’t respond. She sat there, at once both rigid and shaken. She took a deep shuddering breath before saying, “It’s okay.” It wasn’t, but it was all she could say.

It occurred to her that they had said nothing about suspecting Niko, had implicated Bade immediately, had only expressed concern for the two of them, and with a sinking feeling she knew she had been wrong. Clem, as usual, had overreacted, had forced Niko to flee his barely healing sister all because she was being paranoid. It only added to her sense of guilt.

“We should go back,” Clem said, her elbows resting on the table, her fingers still covering her face, “This was a mistake…we…we have to go back.”

The next morning, Niko made eggs for Clem. Once Abe strolled through, he squinted one eye at the sizzling pan before cracking two eggs into a bowl. “I like mine scrambled hard,” he basically grunted before sitting on the porch. With him out the door, Niko rolled his eyes.

“I saw that,” Clem grinned.

Niko stuck out his tongue. She shot one of her hair bands at his nose like a bullzeye. “Hey! Be careful. These are your eggs, you know!” Her smirk was unmistakable even out of the corner of his eye. He grinned back under his hair.

Niko sat down for breakfast last, Clem still soaking up the yolk into her toast and her microwaved bacon. Abe gave Niko a compliment of “Not bad, boy” when he put his finished dish in the sink. He left immediately after, either to visit the hardware store or do yardwork. This left Niko & Clem at the table, chewing while Abe’s radio whirred in the background. 

“How’d you sleep?” Niko poked between bites. Her shoulders hopped once and she contorted her mouth momentarily without taking her eyes off her food. Niko figured that was good enough. Granted, if she’d had a nightmare he doubted she’d say anything either. He had a nightmare - probably the same subject matter as her own. His morning shower rid him of the sweat he woke up in, though.

“So what do you wan’ to do now?” he tried again. Now that they were here, it was pretty obvious they couldn’t merely kick around Abe’s land until...what? They no longer suspected Niko? Caught Bade? Without a prompt response from Clem, Niko got up and fetched Abe’s radio. He turned the dials until he found the relaxing beat of a news channel. Without a TV or a reliable cellular signal, they would have to rely on this for information without venturing into the city.

They lolled their heads to the commercial jingles, bounced their knees along. Niko took Clem’s dish and started scrubbing before a newscaster finally started speaking smoothly through the mesh. Though, at first, it was just a weatherwoman with - guess what - a forecast of rain. “Duh,” Clem told her, raised eyebrows and matte eyes burning holes through the metal. 

Then there it was - “Update on the case of the German serial killer, Bade.” The pair went stiff. Niko froze mid-dry with the towel poised before a fork.

Clem was gone, again, and she had once again left Jason distraught. This time Niko was also gone, and so Jason had hope, but the nagging worries the unknown location of Bade created left Jason waking up to tears and a twist of sweaty blankets in the middle of the night.

When they realized she was gone Jason’s mother hadn’t cried like expected, but rather seemed to shut down. She had barely spoken since then, none of them had. Jason had hoped she’d just gotten stuck somewhere in the hospital, gone too far and fell, it was the best-case scenario he could think of. When the Newtons came by looking for Niko, he knew they were together, he just didn’t know why.

Jason had spent the evening driving back and forth to everywhere he could imagine Clem would want to go. Maybe she just needed to get away, even though she was causing him so much worry, he could forgive that. She wasn’t anywhere he expected. Nine had tried to give him ideas, but he’d come up empty-handed and had stumbled back home at close to midnight before falling asleep.

It was early so the knock on his door was surprising. Brian peeked his bespectacled face through his bedroom door and said, “Hey Jason, Mom wants you to come downstairs.” He hesitated, like Jason was a bomb he was weary of setting off, “Dad’s here.”

Jason had known it was coming, but still his chest constricted in a familiar dread. As always, he put on a brave face, even though he knew he fooled none of his siblings, “Okay, I’ll be down in a moment. Thanks Brian.” His little brother nodded and scurried away from Jason’s room.

He dressed quickly and attempted in vain to tame his curly hair, he knew from experience that the better he looked the less there would be for Robert Whitefield to criticize. That didn’t stop Jason’s father from looking him up and down and saying, “Took your time, did you?” when he saw Jason coming down the stairs.

Anger flowed through Jason at the sight of his father standing there in the kitchen drinking coffee like he had never left. Only once he was able to tear his eyes away from the man did he notice all of his brothers arrayed around the room. Ryan was off glowering in a corner with Trey, the twins stood by the counter, their heads bent together in whispered conversation. Only Nelson and Brian looked somewhat pleased to see their father, their childhood affection not yet completely lost for the man in front of them. “I apologize,” Jason said coolly, “I was out late last night.”

His father raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Did you find your sister?” he asked. He sighed, and if anyone thought it was a sign of concern his words proved otherwise, “I’m sure she just ran away, she’s always causing problems, not thinking about anyone else.” Even though Jason didn’t know if this was true or not, he could feel his hand curl into a fist. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was making some of this up.”

The urge to respond was great. Jason could practically feel the increase in tension in the room. But he had kept the infamous Whitefield anger leashed for so long, he wasn’t about to lose control now. “I guess we’ll find out when we find her,” he told his father, “I think we’re supposed to talk to the news today. I’m guessing you’re here for that?” Playing concerned father for the media would be just like his father.

“We’ll see if that’s even necessary,” Robert said coolly.

Though Clem’s body craved sleep it didn’t find her for close to half an hour. Her eyes wide open, she found herself staring at her dozing friend with uncharacteristic scrutiny. She wished people were as easy for her to understand as they were for people like Jason, because then maybe Niko’s actions wouldn’t confuse her so much. She saw the way he accommodated her, made room for her and let her rest, but never in a way that made her feel weak. Clem didn’t understand why or how, but in the bleariness that accompanied almost sleep she acknowledged she was grateful for it.

Her sleep was anything but restful, but it was more consistent than her earlier nap, her nightmare keeping her eyes glued shut rather than a fruitless battle to wake herself up. When Clem finally did wake up it was the middle of the night and the room they were sleeping in was pitch black. Her initial reaction was panic, her breathing quickly spiraling out of control. It was too dark in here, too much like…like.

Then she remembered who lay beneath her, or who should be. Reaching out a hesitant, shaking hand, Clem whispered, “Niko?” into the darkness. When he didn’t respond immediately she repeated his name, this time with more urgency than before.

There was a groan from below, and then Niko rolled over and right into Clem’s outstretched hand. “Clem?” he questioned blearily, “You okay?” He reached up and tugged on her hand reassuringly, and instead of recoiling, the sensation was a reminder that this was real, not her dreams.

“Yeah,” she whispered into the darkness. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, “I just…” but there was no explanation. Clem pulled her hand back up to the bed, staring out into the dark to where she knew Niko was. “So you take the kids here even though the parents don’t approve?” she asked, recalling what he had said earlier.

He paused for a moment, considering. “I guess I jus’ don’t think people should be kept from their families if they have them.”

“Sometimes there are good reasons,” Clem said, thinking of her father. But, she could acknowledge, this was different, Abe wasn’t Robert, she knew this clearly after just a few minutes of talking with him. “But maybe you’re right, Abe seems…good.”

There was a short lull. “I don’t want to go back to sleep,” she told him honestly.

“Okay.”

She said nothing else, and so Niko started talking. He told her stories. Stories she hadn’t heard, of Abe and his grandchildren, of him and Nine and their European childhood, of his exercising and his desire to be fit.

Clem chuckled blearily at that. The comforting intonation of his words bringing her closer and closer to sleep as she suggested, “We should play basketball again sometime then. See if you’ve improved.” It wasn’t the best logic, as all the running in the world couldn’t give someone the hand-eye coordination they didn’t have, but it worked for Clem.

She could hear the smile in Niko’s voice as he said, “Okay.”