Chương 1017: Day One Thousand And Fifteen

Dear Diary, Y'know, you'd think that with the whole 'perforated my Soul, but my son and father managed to stitch me back together', I'd wind up sans chronic depression. Seriously, an injury that causes stupidly similar effects to depression ought to clear up the depression when you fix it, right? Yeah. I'm aware that's not how it works. That's not how any of this works.

Shit, that's not even my core depression symptom; for all I know hitting myself with the self-erasing Blend piercing Status just added a symptom to my depression, and now I'm just struggling to get back to where I fuckin' started. Y'know, with chronic depression that manifests as overwhelming fatigue that slides into despair. While that would absolutely suck, it would also be par for the fuckin' course.

I mean, yeah, I hit the karma lottery being isekaied into the me I am now, but that just means I'm gonna get fucked over from here on out, right? Yes, I'm also aware that's not really how karma works, either. Blow me. For anyone saying, 'oh, but Tabitha, you're a girl, how can we blow you', not only does that phrase coming out the mouth of a woman generally refer to her metaphoric dick made out of rage and disgust, I can in fact Shapeshift to have an actual dick.

Or, if I'm really pissed off, I'll go deep sea diving and find a fuckin' whale and hit that bitch with a very directed Mimic (Attack). In case I failed to mention, I may get more belligerent than usual when I'm depressed. I think it's the whole assed fact that anger lets me function when nothing else does. Cortisol making me functional when I have no dopamine or serotonin. I guess panic might do it too, but somewhere along the line I chose anger over fear. Holy fuckballs.

I just remembered the last time I was really afraid, really panicked regarding my own physical well being. Not running away from Rocky, that was just exiting a bad situation I wasn't sure I could handle. I never really felt in fear for my life there, and I think I showed that when I returned and kicked the shit out of him. Still gotta find that fucker at some point and explain to him that I did not appreciate his helping to kidnap my kid.

Who wasn't legally my kid at the time, but fuck that noise, I've been emotionally committed to her since the first time she cooed at me. But still no, not Rocky. The fuckin' Aquarium. In Camden, back in the day, the day I got shot. Day One. I know I've joked about getting my fuckin' fear shot off, but now I gotta wonder if it's true.

I dunno if it'd be brain damage that didn't heal when I got here, or just the eat a frog thing taken to it's absolute extreme, but I just don't really have personal fear the way I used to. Yeah, 'this is going to suck', but nothing that could or ever would turn into panic.

So yesterday at the end of the day, as I distributed hugs to all the kids in my class, which is definitely another thing that would never happen back in the day, because the Institutional Knowledge of teachers back then said that only kindergarten teachers and pedos did that.

While I'm sure there were some assholes who started just like that, I can't help but think that maybe some genuine or even high grade fake affection from their teachers might have made some of us in class see them more like Aunties than wardens, which might have done wonders for our ability to learn and not treat every class like a chance to stick it to the man. As I hugged them, some of them pressed paper into my hands.

We'd started using paper for the kids doing geometry, because the little slates the kids used to practice basic math didn't allow for the kind of precision they were trying to get from their graphs. Didn't get a look at them just then, because I was tryna get home before I fell apart. Not sure why I was falling apart, just was. Picked up the kids, stepped us all to the Homestead East House Dining Room, and just kinda sagged into my chair, suddenly spent.

No idea why, just all of my go had got up and went, as the old heads used to say. Fuck, maybe that's what made the old heads old heads, too much depression, too much struggle, not enough success. Not that I'm lacking in success, but just because depression isn't a chronic condition doesn't mean somebody isn't suffering from it. The girls who'd spent time in my Math class this week took turns coming up and asking me questions.

Shit, even Ria got in on the act, and she's exclusively studying under Saffron at this point, because she knows algebra, or 'Variable Equations', just as well as I do. I realized what they were doing, but couldn't bring myself to stop them. Shit, I think I realized I needed the boost. Honestly made a mistake not looking at those bits of paper the kids had handed me. When we finished dinner, before I hit the Bath, I looked at the ladies and girls, held up the papers, and said, "I need to go put these in my office.

I'll be right back down when I'm done." Are you sure you'll be okay? thought Siobhan. Yeah. Just want to make sure none of the kids handed me a note saying 'help, I'm being abused at home' or some shit like that. If they did, how would you tell which child it was? I shrugged as I flopped into my chair and glanced at the first paper; it had a stupidly complex equation on it. Could always Scry on whoever made the note. I think she may have said something after that, but I lost whatever it was.

I looked at the second paper, and it had another equation. No, a couple of them. That got me curious, so I went back to the first one and really looked at it. My brain finally kicked in and I remembered what the kids had been doing over the past day, and I thought about what it would look like on graph paper. Still so weird that I can visualize that kinda thing.

Like, yeah, I've always had good hand eye coordination, and part of that is visualizing what I want to do and getting my hands to do their part, but somehow I could now sort of see what would happen if I sketched this out. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. It was a stick figure, kinda waving if you looked at it just right. The next one was a smiley face. Then a dog, I think.

Picture after picture, I sat there staring, hanging each one from the wall as I finished envisioning it. My kids had made me art. Nerdy math art. That I'd taught them how to make. I broke down right there. Kinda lost track of time, and didn't realize how long had gone by until Saffron gently touched my shoulder.

"Love? Will you be all right to visit your father today?"

"Today... Oh, shit, it's Sunday, isn't it?" I checked how long until dawn, at which point I realized that ship had sailed; by now the kids had probably had breakfast already.

"Uh... Fuck." I hung my head.

"Would it be bad if I didn't want the kids along?" She stepped up, took my head in her arms and pulled me to her.

"Love, I understand. You love them, and they love you, but you're worried about them seeing you break down." I nodded into her breasts.

"Yeah." I sniffled a little.

"No. I mean, yeah, I don't want them scared next time something comes at them, worried I won't be able to save them, but mostly I'm worried about lashing out and shit." She shook her head, and I felt it through her arms.

"No, love. You would never. You have never. Even when Isnomi stabbed you with one of Vulcan's bolts, you never yelled at her, never lashed out in the slightest."

"Me? Nah, I must have at some point." She chuckled a little.

"Perhaps you need to talk with us about your self-image, love. It does seem to be an ongoing problem." I sighed.

"Do you think they should come along?" She thought for a moment.

"I think it's good for them to see you talking things out, but if having them along would hinder your ability to be open, then I'm certain they'll be fine here at home with Siobhan and Tallulah."

"Not Marie?" She chuckled.

"I think Tallulah wants to try her hand at cooking, and Marie does enjoy hearing you open up." I took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Kitten."

"It's the least I can do." She paused. Froze for a moment.

"No, it's less than the least, less than I should have been doing."

"What? No, you've been great." She shook her head again, laying her head atop my own.

"No, love. Not with this. I've been there whenever I can be, of course, but..." She paused, searching for words, or maybe for courage.

"You realize I've taken advantage of your trust in me to Scry on the world of your birth, yes?" I shrugged.

"Meh. I kinda guessed. If you're guilty about that, don't be. Consider permission retroactively granted if you really need it."

"Thank you, but that's the thing I feel least guilty about. I feel honored that you trust me so much that even subconsciously you allow me liberties only those most beloved of gods may take." Saffron. Always Saffron. I pulled her to me.

"Yeah, well. What do you feel guilty about then?" It took her a minute.

"Not helping you as much as I could have."

"You've been busy." She shrugged. Made a kind of throwing away head toss.

"Yes, but no. I'm not sure if I could have researched every piece of knowledge I've stolen from your world and also done the same with the techniques for healing minds. I could have prioritized it though." I shrugged again.

"Yeah, well. You had more important shit to look up. Infrastructure shit, right?" She nodded.

"Yes. Plumbing. Electricity. Medicine. Nutrition. Military technology. Chemistry. A laundry list of things, many of which have yet to be implemented, all of which have let me..." She paused, a smile stretching her lips, but scared to say what she wanted.

"Go ahead, Kitten. I'm kinda low already, you're not gonna crash me." She took a deep breath.

"All of those things have let me not just defend the Alliance, but to begin turning it into your perfect paradise. One where Children Live." Yeah, those words hit. They hit hard. Gave me a whole assed roller coaster ride between the guilt at Changing the world and the wonder and pride of how I'd... How the women and men I'd inspired had Changed it.

"Kitten?"

"Yes, Goof?"

"Never apologize for that. Not ever."

"Even if it means you've wallowed in undeserved misery longer than you had to?" I nodded.

"Fuck it, Kitten. My condition is chronic. Lived with it all my life. If I gotta hurt to make a world where no little kids have to? Fuck it, tie me to the machine and make a fuckin' paradise for those kids." I might have been crying at that point. She definitely was.

"That's... Not quite all, love." I shrugged.

"There's always more, isn't there?"

"Yeah, yeah, there is." Kinda funny, it had been a while since Kitten dropped the regal act anywhere except in the middle of Bedroom antics. I kinda missed it, but I totally got how she had a role to play and couldn't drop it too often, or she'd slip at just the wrong time.

"I never let myself think this, but always suspected that I haven't put every effort I could have into making you well, making you whole, lest you not be able to defend the Alliance in our time of need." I took a deep breath. I'd talked with one of my old teachers about this back in the day. About all the therapy soldiers were supposed to get before they exited the service.

"Yeah. Worried that fixing me would break the weapon?" She nodded. I hugged her.

"Yeah, I get it. I get it, and if you'd asked me, I would have told you to do that." I waited. Then said, "were you worried that I'd say something else?" She shook her head.

"No. No, love. Like I said, I mostly kept that doubt secret, even from myself." She paused, took a deep breath.

"Can you ever forgive me?" I nodded, but said, "question is, can you forgive yourself?" She froze. Then shook her head, tears falling. I held her while she cried. I think I cried some too. Okay, I definitely did. After a bit, I realized it wasn't stopping any time soon, and I thought, Mittens? Dad's place? and rocked us both there, landing beside Dad on his bed.

"Daughter? Is something wrong?" I shook my head. Then I nodded. Then I shook my head again. After a couple more repetitions, where I felt more and more like an idiot, I managed to choke out, "yeah, bad depressive spiral. Kitten and I are maybe hitting each other with feedback this time. Making it worse. Help?"

"Of course, Daughter." So for a while we just sat there in Dad's lap, Saffron curled into a ball, me curled around Saffron, Marie and Mom draped over us in a big warm group hug. Eventually, in fits and starts, we talked. We talked about my self-image issues, about Saffron's decisions and how she was more guilty about them than I was angry, hurt, or upset. We talked about depression, and how my shit has been chronic as long as I can remember, just a fuckin' chemical OS problem.

Kinda weird, with Saffron unloading just as much as me, it felt almost like the couples therapy I'd read about. Never thought I'd go for that, never thought Saffron or I would need it, never thought it would feel better at the end of the day. But here we are.