Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

You can come home to me

when you're ready

I left the gate unlocked for you.

Till then I'm sending up

smoke signals

hoping I'll see yours, too.

- "Smoke Signals" by Cavetown & Tessa Violet

There's that old adage that says, "where there's a will, there's a way".

It's not always true. Some things are, by nature, fundamentally impossible. But some things aren't impossible, they're just confusing, frustrating, and require a certain set of skills. And something that is entirely possible, with a bit of know-how and a fair amount of patience, is uncorrupting a file. 

And that's not to imply rolling back an update or pulling from a backup. Undoing file corruption so as to restore a file exactly as it was, is possible. It's complicated by the fact that these particular files have a personality and free will, and probably well over the heads of most average laymen, but the group that this information is relevant to conveniently includes a professional computer programmer and a complex artificial intelligence unit. 

And so, as the saying goes: where there is a will, there is a way. And there is most definitely a will. 

The process is nerve-wracking. It involves Pomni, wearing a "rope" of tied-together magic trick handkerchiefs around her waist, leaping into the void beneath the Circus to get to a specific abstraction, and diving into the dark, fluid form as she did once before. Zooble, Gangle, and Ragatha stand at the ready to yank her free, taking turns keeping watch like travelers on a long and dangerous road guarding their camp. Meanwhile, Kinger sits in front of his computer console with Caine having... gone into it somehow. Skidoo'd through the screen like Blue's Clues. In any case, it seems promising. 

It takes days. It's not always an active process. Oftentimes it's just... sitting and waiting, while some program or other runs. Sometimes it's tedious work, picking carefully through lines of code that feel weirdly personal and delicate somehow. (Maybe because it's literally him.) 

Finally, though, the process is finished, and Kinger prompts Ragatha to give her the signal. The line tied to Pomni is tugged twice firmly, sending a clear message. Then, after a few minutes, it goes slack, signaling a voluntary return. The eyes of that dark mass wink out one by one by one, until finally Pomni tumbles out of the darkness just as it swallows itself into nothing— with someone else in tow. 

Gasping for air she does not need, Pomni peels herself from the floor, and scrambles to make sure he's really there with her, whole again. Barely two paces behind her, Jax comes back to himself, large golden eyes blinking once, then twice, bleary and dazed. 

Everything still feels like... a dream, in all the worst ways, and a waking nightmare in all of the best ones. The world floats. His limbs still feel heavy beneath him. His head reels. He simultaneously can't focus on anything and sees everything far too well. He feels like he's going to be sick. 

A slow, suffering sigh is let out through clenched teeth, before he draws in a breath, a shakier exhale following it. His chest rises and falls. His vision swims as he holds out a hand, turning it over. And then, there's the floor rushing up to meet him, stopped only from colliding with his face by his knees finding it first. Who could have guessed to prepare for a rough re-entry?

There he is. Thank god. Oh, thank god. It really worked. 

"Jax." Moving to her knees, Pomni reaches for him. (Her? No, probably not just yet. One thing at a time.) She doesn't catch him in a surprise hug, instead reaching out to put her hands on Jax's arms just below the shoulders. Her eyes meet those familiar black squares framed with gold, and she lets out a relieved laugh. "You made it."

"I..." Jax trails off quietly, looking at her, the room around them, looking for all the world like he's processing each piece of it separately. When his gaze finds hers again, he opens his mouth, and fails to find the words for a moment, only letting out a short, tight sound.

 He tries again. He'd wince at how quiet he is, if his mind had enough bandwidth to dig into himself right now. 

"This— is real?"

"Yes!" Pomni says with quiet delight. "Yes, it— it's real. You're here."

"...Oh my god," Jax replies in little more than a whisper. "I didn't— but that's not— I thought that couldn't happen. I-it—" 

He lets out a laugh. It's not so much humor as it is disbelief, relief. The tears that threaten to well up along the bottoms of his eyes are much the same. "I'm actually here."

"You don't have to go," Pomni murmurs, smiling at him. 

From nearby, sparse but earnest applause calls attention back to the rest of the space. Zooble, Ragatha and Gangle sit on the benches installed in the aquarium-like space set up in the abstraction cellar, Pomni's handkerchief lifeline hanging over their laps, while Kinger sits nearby at an out-of-place looking desk. 

"You did it! That's amazing!" Ragatha grins brightly, overwhelmed with pride and hope, her eye welling up with tears. She stops clapping to wipe them away with the back of her hand. "We always thought that— abstraction was it. But maybe—  maybe we can actually— "

"It can be reversed!" Caine's voice erupts from the computer, crackling with compression for only the shortest moment, before he wrenches himself out of the screen, throwing his arms above his head. "Well done, you stalwart shellfish, you—"

"WHAT??" Jax barks. He doesn't manage to stand. He just scrambles back, landing squarely on his ass and pointing accusatorily. "What is he doing here!? How is—" 

"It's a long story," Kinger chimes in to explain, rising out of his chair and drawing closer. "But if we just take a minute to calm down..." 

"I don't want to take a minute, I want him—" Jax starts to snap, but it fizzles quickly. He lets out a groan and moves to lie on his back. "God, I feel like I'm gonna be sick."

"Hey—  listen, I—  I get it," Pomni assures him. "But we needed Caine's help for this, and he was offering." 

As they talk, Zooble rises to close the door out to the dark void where mollified abstractions drift like aquarium fish. "We had to adjust, too. You were out for a hot minute while we got this whole thing figured out. Welcome back, by the way."

"Thanks," Jax mutters, flat and exhausted, failing to budge any further. "...How long was I in there?" 

"...A month, I think," Gangle pipes up from her own bench, the quiet sounds of her pencil scratching against her sketchbook finally slowing. The frown on the face of her rarely-intact comedy mask is small and thoughtful. "E-everything happened pretty fast, so..." 

"Now, Jax, I know you and I didn't end on the best of terms," Caine starts. The heels of his boots click on the tiles. He folds his arms behind his back. The front of teeth that make up his face arch in concern. "But I promise you, I am trying to help here! I've been in your lines of code, doing all that I can to remedy parts that didn't seem to be working right since your abstraction! And—" 

Jax presses a hand to his face, scrubbing it roughly. "Fine! Fine. I don't wanna— ugh. I literally can't hear this right now."

"Give him some space for now, Caine," Pomni tells him gently. "One thing at a time, okay? Let's take it slow."

"Oh! Right. Yyyes, one thing at a time," Caine agrees, even if he's a little reluctant. He's gotten so used to the reception from the others, and isn't particularly sure how to navigate the pushback anymore. "I'll go make sure that nothing's started to make any sort of troublesome errors while you all help him!" 

"Great," Jax wheezes, sarcastic and exhausted. "He's gonna keep looking at my numbers. That's not invasive."

"Well, it's better than glitching out." Pulling herself to her feet, Pomni offers Jax a hand. "Let's go back upstairs." 

"Do you need anything, Kinger?" Ragatha asks. "You've been working hard, it's probably time you took a break."

"A dinner break sounds pretty good right about now!" Kinger's quick to agree, finally rejoining the group completely. "It’s for the best not to get the abstractions too excited, either. I think we could all use some rest." 

Jax doesn't voice his agreement, but he says enough by reaching tentatively for Pomni's hand, hauling himself up on unsteady feet. Whatever it takes to get out of all this noise— even if he's still thankful to have escaped the echoing in his own mind— he'll do.

Pleased with their success, the group disperses up the stairs. Zooble and Gangle, of course, stick together, talking lowly amongst themselves. Ragatha spends a moment chattering excitedly about possibilities to Pomni, before moving to talk to Kinger again, fussing over him lightly. Once Ragatha breaks away, Pomni—  

Well, Pomni lingers with Jax. Dropping back to walk beside him, Pomni says nothing. What could possibly need to be said after spending several days in someone's mind? But she hangs close all the same, both because she's not quite ready to part after everything that's happened and to quell the quiet fear of him feeling isolated again.

Jax doesn't talk much either; too much focus on keeping his legs beneath him and his head on straight, too much to think about that's already been said. There's a strange weight to coming back after the brink, and having to live with everything the other person heard. 

(It was hard enough doing it once. He won't be able to manage it again. Not with how much she knows now.) 

A slow walk, away from the group, back into the Circus proper. It's different than Jax remembers it, with structures moved and spaces widened. Brighter, but not in an unnatural way - is there sunlight coming through the top of the tent now? It's hard to say, considering that tipping his head up even a little makes him wince. 

He stops only when he reaches the hallways that stretch to their rooms. He doesn't really know where he's going, or what to do with himself. There's almost a bit of that old abstracted impulse to just... roam and look. He hesitates at the threshold, and finally really looks at Pomni, more than the fleeting glances he's taken at her before. He lets out a sigh. 

"...I dunno what I'm doing here," Jax mutters, distinctly exhausted.

Pomni shrugs lightly. "You said you didn't wanna go. And so I came back for you. It doesn't have to be any more complicated than that." There's a beat, and she wrings her hands lightly. "We're—  gonna try to get everyone out. Make a community."

"Huh." Jax lets the sound hang in the air. Square pupils find the nearest doors bearing heavy red Xs. And, when he's had long enough to dwell on that, he huffs a laugh and gestures ahead of them. "I meant, like... here."

A beat. "Oh." Another beat, then another. "You mean like in this exact spot."

"Yeah." Yet another beat. "Like, in this hallway."

"Well, I can't help you with that one. I was following you."

"Seriously? I thought I was following you. You're really gonna let the fresh out of the digital insanity guy lead the way?"

Pomni snorts, chuckling lightly. "There he is," she teases, nudging him. "I figured you wanted to go lay down. I dunno about you, but—  working our way out of there was a task."

The nudge manages to get a quiet scoff of a laugh out of Jax, deflated as he is. He finally sets back off, steps as slow and ambling as ever. "Honestly? That was probably it. I feel like shit." He freezes in his tracks, balking for a moment. "Wait, the censor's still down?"

Pomni laughs again, a little warmer. "Yeah, Caine let it go. Not a hill he wanted to die on with Zooble."

"Oh my god." The groan Jax lets out is nothing short of deeply, profoundly relieved. "That's— fucking awesome. I'm gonna get a little jumpscared by it literally every time it happens for the next week, though, I think."

"Something to look forward to," Pomni jokes. "I, um—  I was gonna ask. Is it okay if I go with you? Or you come with me? I don't—  know if I'm ready to be apart yet. I know that's lame, but, like. Sue me."

"...You think I'm gonna go off and abstract again or something?" A pointed brow is raised her way. The question might be more accusatory if he had enough energy to tangle himself up in his head right now.

"Well damn, I hope not, after all that," Pomni fires back. "No, just... not ready to be alone, I guess."

For a moment, all Jax can do is eye her in an almost-reluctant search for insincerity, more of a reflex than conscious thought. The fingers on his nearest hand curl and uncurl, slow and tentative. He nudges her arm, finally managing to meaningfully get back on the move. 

"Yeah, okay," he relents. "I guess... my room, then. Since, y'know." 

She's already seen it. It's not like there's anything able to be hidden from someone who's been in your head, after all. Even if it feels wrong to let someone inside still. (He doesn't manage to say it, but he waves her along.) "C'mon. Any more hold-up, and I'm just gonna pass out in the hallway."

"Oh—  okay, cool." Pomni follows him, jogging along to catch up the few she’d fallen behind on. There's a comforting sense of familiarity in following that long stride again. His dim room is full of soft colors and designs that are evocative of Sanrio. A table with three chairs, subtly color-coded in a way that Pomni cannot unsee, are gathered around a little table with a teapot on it. It all feels so... personal, in a way that even Jax's dreamscape didn't manage to capture. Not wanting to invite herself anywhere in particular, Pomni simply parks herself in the center of the round blue rug on Jax's floor. "...Hey," she says after a moment, looking over to Jax on the bed. "You ever watch Big Comfy Couch as a kid?"

From where he'd just plodded over to his bed, Jax parks himself on the edge of it. For a moment, he just... watches her. How she takes it in. Stews, quietly, on what she must be thinking. When she looks back over, his small, thoughtful frown tightens. He glances away for a beat, trying to play off like he hadn't been looking - but the question has him look back, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed for a fleeting thoughtful moment. "...Y'know? Yeah, I think I remember that one. That one was the one with the clown with the doll, right?" Strangely relevant. If he ever saw another episode, it'd probably leave him with more uncanny parallels to dwell on. "Why?"

"Check it out." Pomni lies down on the floor on her back, arms splayed out on either side, points of her jester hat following suit naturally. She bends one leg at the knee. The other she lifts straight and back until it's pointed at her shoulder, slowly rotating it down and around the curve of the circle-shaped rug like the minute hand of a clock.

He has no idea how he didn't expect that, but somehow it still manages to catch Jax off guard. She gets a snort out of him - and, even with the exhaustion still clinging to it, a little smile. "Wow. It's like I'm really there!"

Pomni laughs back. It's weak and tired, but so utterly, profoundly real. Genuine joy, through the exhaustion. He's back now. This is real. And it's going to be okay, even if it takes a little while. And if all it takes to give him a little joy in return is to act like a dork, Pomni will gladly do so. Pomni lets both legs flop onto the floor, bringing her hands behind her head. "Thanks. For coming back with me."

"Thanks for... coming for me in general," Jax replies, with an ounce of hesitance. It isn’t the first time he's said anything along these lines, but there's a different gravity to it now that it's outside of his own head. Now that it's real. He flops back into the bed, letting out a long, slow exhale. Conflicting thoughts put a frown on his face. It'll probably feel too familiar, but it feels wrong leaving her down there after everything, doesn't it? 

"...You don't—" he flounders, failing to pick words that would come off as unaffected as he might like them to. He lets out a quiet sigh. "You don't gotta stay down there. If you don't want to. I can just... scoot over or something."

"I'm just chilling," Pomni insists, "but if you're inviting me, I'll come up." With a soft grunt of effort, Pomni sits up. She climbs onto the bed beside him, laying back, but still tipping her head to look his way. "I really missed you, y'know."

"I still don't get why," Jax says, keeping his voice quiet. His room's felt so still for years, it's hard to break the silence. Even Pomni talking is completely out of place. "But, I..." Anxiety curls his fingers into his overalls, from where they're laid over his stomach. He glances over her way. "...I missed you, too," he admits, with no small amount of effort. "I kind of hated that I missed you."

Pomni smiles, soft and sentimental, her eyes taking on a glossy sheen. She lowers her volume to match his. Something about that feels right. "Yeah, well. I'm annoying like that."

That gets another soft laugh out of him, and with each that he manages, they take less effort. The tension in his chest lightens. Everything gets easier, one little step at a time. "...Nothing's— there's not— you're positive nothing's weird after everything in there?" he asks, after struggling with his words for a moment. "I know you said it in there, but, I mean, you were just trying to—"

"Nothing's weird. I promise." Pomni lifts a hand, extending a pinkie. "Everything's good, and I'm not gonna tell anyone your business, or even what it was like unless it's relevant to what we're trying to do for the others. I insisted on coming back by myself for a reason."

Jax eyes her hand, square pupils darting between it and her face. He raises his own, slow, and uncertain, and links their pinkies together. It's just a stupid little grade-school swear, he keeps trying to tell himself, it doesn't necessarily have to mean anything if she doesn't want it to anymore, but... 

She's right; she didn't invite anyone else. She never brought any of it up, when she'd have every right to. Maybe, this once, he can try to put a little ounce of faith into something. 

"...Okay," he relents, after stewing for a quiet few seconds, dropping his hand back to his stomach when their fingers unlink. "That's... that's good, yeah." Slow breath in, and another out. Less stressed than the others. Even if it's just a bit, some tension starts to drain from his shoulders.

 "Thanks, Pomni," he offers, barely above a whisper. He's already thanked her, but this one is different. Weightier. For a number of reasons, so many that he wouldn't dare to speak yet.

"Of course," Pomni assures him easily, without a second thought. She means it. Not just because she cares about Jax—  which she does, very much. But also because if Pomni herself had been seen in this way, mind entered and explored like a house full of unlocked doors, maladaptive thought patterns and rotten memories plain for all to see—  she'd want the same. It's just basic decency. There is nothing to be gained from violating Jax in this way, and as she's seen from his memories with Ribbit... 

Absolutely everything to lose. 

"Broken pinkie swears are punishable by death, you know. You'd have the right to slay me where I stand if I ever talked," Pomni jokes, hoping to make Jax laugh. She likes it when he laughs. It's like adding an extra knot to the lifeline. Security.

Pomni's got a way with getting a laugh out of Jax. Maybe the exhaustion and climb out of the long stint of dread and peril helps her, but that doesn't change the fact that she's got it. His grin widens, and he snorts, eyes scrunching shut with a ridiculous sort of delight. She's completely absurd. (The way that she makes existing like this easier is familiar in a way that's as nostalgic as it is painful.) "And, y'know, if I do hear about it? Definitely gonna strike you down," he replies without skipping a beat, just a bit lighter for it. "Not like it's hard. I'd probably just have to roll up a newspaper or something. Deal with you like a bug."

"Oh yeah, that'd get me good. Newspapers are my greatest weakness," Pomni jokes, smile widening. (God, this feels good. He's back. He's really, truly back. And honestly, it feels better than before.) "You'd just have to give me a real firm smack over the head and then I'll turn into paste."

"Yep. And then we make Caine deal with the new gross clown-smear on the floor," Jax jokes, overly nonchalant. "Tragic, but it's completely necessary. It's just the natural order of stuff around here."

"Damn." Pomni's tone is jokingly distant and pensive, staring off into the ceiling as if lost in thought, but before too long her eyes move back to Jax and her weary smile returns. "Well, it's a good thing I worked in financials. Good with sensitive information. I got you."

"Wow. All of the stupid stuff you saw in my brain for like half a week, and you're probably not gonna steal my identity." Jax lets out a deep sigh, exaggerated in its relief. Even if it's all jokes, he does feel better about it. If only just a little bit, it's a start. Every little bit counts for something, doesn't it? "Yeah, okay, we're good, I think." 

"Yeah. We are." Pomni feels better, too, soaking in every scrap of hope she can get her hands on. "Let's get some rest. I know we don't need to sleep, but I think I gotta turn my brain off for a little bit. They're gonna want to have, like. A debrief meeting so we can plan what's next in the morning."

"Ugh, god, yeah, I'm gonna need to stop thinking about literally anything before we have to deal with that," he complains in turn, and finally budges again, turning his back to her. A small ounce of privacy, while not being alone. It's... nice. With his face to the wall, he can't stare across the room, and find his eyes on that corner again. "...Wake me up if you need me," he adds, after an uncertain moment. He doubts she will— after all, who's really needed who during this whole situation?— but it feels right to offer, after everything.

Pomni's the one who turns outward toward the room, giving him that space and taking some for herself. Together still, without further invasion. Room to breathe without being apart. The pressure of his back against hers allows her to feel his presence and know he's there without having to look, and the amount of worry that alone alleviates is tremendous. He'll be there when she wakes. Pomni quiets her mind, and trusts.

"You promise you're going to be okay in there by yourself for this long?" With careful, fretting hands, Ragatha tied the rainbow-colored string of interlocked handkerchiefs around Pomni's waist securely.

"I promise," Pomni swore earnestly. "I won't take any unnecessary risks, and if anything seems off, I'll tug for help right away." Reaching forward, she took Ragatha's hands as they began to pull away from their now-completed task. "I know I can get him to trust me. I've already seen everything. If I try to push him to open up to anyone else, it could be a disaster. But I'm gonna come back in one piece for you. Okay?" 

"I— " Ragatha faltered, but squeezed Pomni's hands, mouth pressing into a thin squiggle the way that it does when she's anxious. "I trust you. I just—  hah. You know me. I worry." 

"I know," Pomni teased lightly, chuckling. "I'll be fine. I have all of you looking out for me." 

Releasing Ragatha's hands with a slight edge of reluctance, Pomni looked to the desk where Kinger was set up. It looked comical down there—  the space for visiting abstractions was designed to look like one of those long tubes in aquariums where people go to be surrounded by sharks or manta rays, so the sight of a blocky, corporate desk just sitting in the middle of the floor was utterly absurd. 

"We still waiting on Caine?" Pomni asked.

"Shouldn't be more than a minute!" Kinger replied, looking up from whatever he was chipping away at with his quiet typing. For all the absurdity of it, he looked perfectly in his element - save for his occasional distracted-yet-fond glances upwards, towards the watchful eyes of a slowly-drifting abstraction. Before he could start to explain what's going on, the computer chimed, "YOU'VE GOT MAIL!" 

"Oh! There he is." With an unnecessary gesture to crack knuckles he doesn't have, Kinger settled in. "You ready to go, Pomni?"

"I'm ready," Pomni confirmed, determination in her voice. Her large eyes flicked over to Zooble and Gangle. "You guys good?" 

"I think so," Zooble said, looking to Gangle. Throughout all of this, she'd made no secret of her mixed feelings about Jax being back. Zooble could hardly be blamed for being thorough when checking in with her.

"I-I'm good," Gangle agreed. There's no amount of preparing that she could do to be really ready for this, so the best she can do is stick close to Zooble, and she doesn't budge for a moment from doing so. "We'll— see you before too long, hopefully...? Be careful in there."

"I will. Thank you both for—  supporting all this," Pomni said earnestly, lifting a hand to her chest over the little yellow pom-pom there. "All of you. It really does mean the world to me, and if we can pull this off, then— " 

Instinctively, she turned to look up at the abstraction drifting over Kinger's head, then the other two circling Jax. It's strange, how despite a lack of defining features, you can look at one of these beings and just... know who they are. She couldn't wait to meet them all. 

"If we can save Jax, we can save all of them. And that's... That matters. It's worth something," Pomni insisted quietly, but with a gentle, important weight to it. "Okay, Ragatha. Let me at 'im." 

At the end of the little glass hallway, a clear door framed with metal was seated, a valve-like turnstile door handle in the center, like a ship's wheel. Ragatha had already moved beside it in preparation, and reached up to spin it counter clockwise to release it. It swung open with a slow, creaking weight, causing the many colorful eyes on the other side to zero in on it curiously, but make no moves to approach. They merely watched with close interest to see what would happen next. There was no pair of square pupils for Pomni to meet for reassurance this time. Instead, her eyes moved to Kinger once more.

In a quiet moment of held breath, Kinger looked up from his work, and those large eyes of his found Pomni's. Wooden eyelids creased in concern and encouragement in equal measure. And instead of leaving it at that, he spoke up softly from where he sat. "You're gonna do great in there, Pomni. I know you can do it."

That was all it took for Pomni's confidence to slot firmly into place. Kinger's always had a way of doing that, it seemed.

With one more deep breath, Pomni took a step toward the door, then another, feet feeling too heavy and too light all at once. She stood breathless on the precipice, eyes up. According to Caine, this should work. It was just a matter of wanting it. Faith, trust, pixie dust. And just like that, Pomni leapt, and the air within the abstraction cellar became like water to her. Swimming through the darkened void (a frog stroke, ironically), Pomni ascended. Up and up and up until she reached the form she somehow knew belonged to the friend she loved so much, arms wrapping around and falling inside, in a familiar flash. 

This time, she was permitted to skip the fanfare, it seemed. The false Jaxes guarding the door still sat around the table, playing their endless poker game, but at least she isn't stuck in their three awful, unskippable cutscenes. The key to the room behind them was already resting in Pomni's hand. She didn't realize this at first, but feeling her fingers curled around something small with a bit of weight, she looked down and found it already there.

The first one to see her is the one at the piano, eyeing her uncertainly. A glance back to the other three seemed to be all that'd been needed to provoke an irritated groan; the one in the maid costume tipped his head back, before narrowing his eyes over to her. 

"Man, you really got nothing better to do, huh?" The Mask jeered, folded leg over the other bouncing idly, jostling his skirt. "Or did you forget something last time? Wouldn't shock me. Total airhead." 

"Maybe she just hasn't learned better," The Hand, eyes wide and trained to her face, didn't budge. "She'll figure it out eventually. Some lessons only get learned the hard way, right?" 

"Or maybe she just wants to play cards!" The Fool piped up, and flashed a ridiculous grin over to where she stands. "C'mon, I'll deal ya in! You play Go Fish? Or you more of a card-tricks kinda gal?"

"Not here to talk to you guys," Pomni said dismissively, walking right on past. But she did give a nod to the Pianist, and a smile; the Pianist gave her a small, sorrowful smile in turn. "Bye." 

"Aw, don't be like that!" The Fool called over, throwing an arm up. "What's wrong with us? 'Course you came to talk to us! You like us plenty! What's the rush?"

Making a beeline for the door, Pomni held up the key to the lock, intent on getting in. The three at the table are just a distraction. Cruelties. Illusions. She shouldn't have talked to them at all, frankly.

"You think she actually cares?" The Hand pointed out, sharp. "We just can't give her results. So we're useless to her."

"Typical," The Mask clicked his tongue derisively, before scoffing a laugh, gesturing back where Pomni passed through. "Leave it to her to only wanna hear what she wants to hear, right? You know what they call that, boys? Selective listening."

Noise. That's all it was, meant to hurt. (It worked.) But she didn't have to keep putting up with it, did she? She had the key. She stopped in front of the door, raising the key to the lock, bristling. She knew she shouldn't say anything, she knew she shouldn't— "I care about this one," Pomni said stiffly, immediately kicking herself for speaking again.

"Oooh, you care about one part of somebody!" The Mask jeered, faux-sentimental, before he barked a sarcastic laugh, turning sideways in his chair to face her. "Wow, just like literally everybody else in the world. What, you want a medal?"

"It's funny that you think this is helping," The Hand added, harsh stare trained to her face. "Like it isn't just hurting you both. Maybe that's what you want, though." 

"Y'know, I didn't see it, but I think you're right, buddy," The Mask agreed, casting a wicked little grin back her way. "She's totally doing the sado-masochist thing. I can't even really be that shocked, honestly!" 

"You know they're doing this on purpose, right?" The Pianist asked from beside her, glancing over uneasily. "It's just seriously just a distract—" 

"Put a cork in it!" The Fool called over, brandishing his drink glass and lifting it clumsily, as if threatening to throw it.

Casting a weary glance to the Pianist, Pomni pursed her lips. "I know. I know they are." She turned back to the door with a solemn sigh. "I gotta go, guys. You'll thank me later." The key found its way into the lock, and turned.

When the lock opened, the rest of the abstracted mindscape fell away - save for, of course, a single glow in a sea of darkness. And he was there, beneath the lamp, facing away from her once more. His hands held his arms, and when she stepped onto that impossible, dark water, he drew them closer to himself, defensive and tense. 

"...Why'd you come back?" He asked, his voice ebbing strangely in the space. "You barely made it out the first time. Why risk it a second time? What's wrong with you?"

The urgency of the previous visit faded, Pomni walked quietly across the space, watching ripples of light and color follow her feet before looking up at him. "I'll be okay," she said, patting her little lifeline where it sits around her waist. "I wanted to see you again."

Jax frowned back to her, turning only to look at her out of the corner of his eye. A slow breath in, and a deeper one out. 

"There's... nothing to see. Not really," he muttered, turning to stare listlessly ahead. "You'd seriously be better off just..." Another breath. The exhale is shakier than the last one. "...You gotta just— you gotta let me go, Pomni."

"Yeah, well. Don't tell me what to do," Pomni fired back, but there was no venom. By this point, she'd reached his side. Thoughtful, she looked off in the same direction as Jax did, more for the sake of not staring at him than anything.

"...When I was a kid, my mom used to go to my grandfather's grave and talk to him about— just anything. Her day, her friends, the kids, the dogs, how much she missed him. She did that all the time. She'd bring flowers— sometimes lunch, so they could 'eat' together. Sometimes she'd bring us, sometimes she'd go alone. It was fun, you know? Getting him caught up." Pomni shrugged, finally looking back up at him. "But I have an opportunity to do something better."

Jax glanced down to her for just a second, before looking back into the sprawling dark, listening quietly. The opportunity to do something better gets a quiet, humorless huff of a laugh out of him, though. It was more of a reflex than anything else. 

"You can actually be sure I'm listening?" Jax offers back, drained. But after a quiet beat to consider that, he softly nudges her arm, and takes a step forward. "...Guess if you're gonna catch me up," he began quietly, finally taking a look back to her. "We ought'a go somewhere a little better to talk, I guess." 

The next foot of his that hits that shimmering, almost-water floor sends a wide ripple out, and the void they're in seems to almost shiver before it changes. A dark tide, now a suburb. Pinkish lamplight repeated itself, dotted along dark sidewalks. Only one of the houses seems to have lights on, nestled on the street corner. There'd been no wait to hear any sort of confirmation before Jax began to lead the way.

Pomni followed him quietly, jogging the few steps she'd missed to catch up. It almost felt like a ritual of theirs. Jax would step off first, and that long stride would carry him such a great distance in those first few steps that Pomni would have to run to meet him. But she always did. And she always would. Maybe if he'd realized that sooner...

It's not too late, Pomni reminded herself quietly. That's why we're doing this. It's not too late. 

She debated saying this to Jax— the real reason she was there. Kinger knew what he was doing, and Caine had access to the code in a way that was physical, so whether or not they could uncorrupt the data itself was never, ever going to be a question of skill. But at the end of the day, neural scan or no, they were still people. No one could force Jax to unabstract if he didn't want to. Was it safer to get him thinking about wanting to now? Would he lash out at having it sprung on him later? Or would telling him now, before they were ready, leave him far too long to ruminate and second guess and agonize and doubt? 

"I don't wanna go," he'd said tearfully in Pomni's arms when she was here the first time. He'd been so scared. So desperate for this to be a mistake he could undo. Pomni would have to just trust that this was still true, and tell him when he was ready to hear it. 

For the time being, she followed him into the house with a strange sense of knowing exactly where she was, while being in a place she'd never been. 

Pomni wakes naturally. She's never bothered with an alarm clock for mornings, not even before the circus. Her body clock has always just been perfectly reliable. (Even when she didn't want it to be— you ever pull an all-nighter, go to bed at 6am, and still wake naturally at 7:30? Heinous.) A sharp breath in. She rolls a little, craning her neck to make sure Jax is still there.

And there he is, just where she'd left him. Curled in on himself, Jax still sleeps, soft breaths raising and lowering his side slowly. He'd struggled to let his buzzing mind settle, even with how tired he was— but now, he's quiet. Peaceful, even if just for the moment.

Pomni sighs with relief. She knows logically that there isn't a real risk. He wants to be here. He regrets having gone in the first place. But, well... the last time Pomni let her guard down— It'll take a little while to feel like the ground beneath them is solid. She feels a little bad waking him up, but his presence at the meeting is going to be extremely important. Still, a few more minutes can't hurt. 

Laying back down, Pomni lets herself just lie there and breathe, listening to him do the same. Just for a little bit longer. Eventually, though, the day must move forward. Pomni rolls onto her back again, reaching over and rubbing Jax's arm a little. "Jax?"

"Mmmn?" He shifts just a bit, drawing in a quiet, quick breath as he wakes up, but the best she gets out of him is a bleary little hum for now, followed by a hazy look back over his shoulder.

"Hey, sorry. We gotta go to that thing." Pomni sits up carefully. "Need you there, too."

A miserable little groan, and Jax turns back over. "Man, seriously? Can't they— I dunno, reschedule or something? Raincheck."

"I promise after this I'll give you a damn break," Pomni teases. "I know I've been running you ragged. Last thing. I swear on my life."

Jax lets out a heaving, overdramatic sigh, and waves her off while he sits up. "Alright, alright! I'm gonna hold you to that." 

He lingers at the end of the bed, though, once he's moved to start to get up to leave. Carpet beneath his paws, blankets beneath his hands. Waking up from abstraction is so much stranger, so much worse than just... waking up. Things are finally starting to feel real again. Like they're not just some dream, his mind finding a way to twist in on itself to give him false hope. He glances back to her, then to the floor, to the little table in the corner, the stripes on the wall. 

"...I still—" he fails to find the right words, and actually manages a little, disbelieving laugh this time. "I can't believe I'm... here. It doesn't feel like it should've been possible, you know?"

"I know," Pomni agrees through a laugh of her own. "Caine, uh, got internet access, I guess? And he and Kinger were doing some research about file corruption reversal, and— put some stuff together. Then we agreed to start with you because I'd already been successful the one time. It— took three days."

"It feels like it took three days. Honestly surprised it wasn't longer," Jax admits, attention cast down to where he fiddles with his hands idly. "...And— you were serious about everybody else agreeing?"

"Mmhmm." Pomni tilts her head a little to try to see his face better, wondering just where his head's at. She has a few guesses, but... "You're one of us. No matter what. I'm sorry that we let you down before this happened in the first place. But we won't do it again. It wasn't the same without you."

"I guess I kind of figured it'd be... better," Jax murmurs, glancing over her way, before back down. It's tentative, uncertain, overwhelmed. Hopeful, almost, but terrified of it. "Once the, y'know. Abstraction situation got dealt with, anyways."

Tentative as well, Pomni hops back up to sit next to him in the side of the bed. "Did you see the big blanket tent on the way up?"

"Oh, yeah, I figured that was— I dunno, something for Kinger?" Jax furrows his brows, finally looking more fully her way.

Pomni shakes her head. "It was for you. The dark made you calm. We didn't have access to the cellar for a while, so we worked together to make a place where you'd be safe. I sat in there with you a lot, I don't know how much you remember."

"...Oh." He does almost remember something like that, doesn't he? Maybe he'd chalked it up to his imagination, or misremembering the last time they'd seen each other. Memories blurred together with the waking world in abstraction, clumping messily with reality. But he does remember her sitting there with him, while it felt like everything fell apart around him. And apparently, that counts for more than he'd previously considered. 

"I... sort of. It's kind of hard to remember a lot of it, but..." Jax trails off a bit, lifting a hand to rub the side of his neck softly. "...I guess I don't get— why?" After all, it wasn't exactly like he'd done much besides ensure in any way he could think of that he wouldn't be missed. Why would anyone bother?

"Because you're one of us," Pomni insists. "We take care of our own. You deserved to be safe and comfortable."

Jax eyes her for a moment, frown tight, before he speaks up again. Quieter, anxious. The elephant in the room's gotten too great to ignore anymore. "Even after you saw everything in there? I figured that'd... be kind of a detractor from that."

"Even moreso, actually." Scooting, Pomni turns to face him a little more fully. "Listen, everything I saw in there... none of it stopped me from coming the rest of the way to you. None of it stopped me from staying as long as I could, or risking— getting hurt." 

Pomni's not really sure what would've happened to her if she'd tried to outlast that burst of light, which she later discovered was a flash grenade left over from the gun adventure, planted by Zooble to try and shake Pomni loose from Jax. 

"And it didn't stop me from coming back for you. I don't want you to suffer, I don't want you to be gone." A tentative beat. "...I missed you, Jax."

Even if each thing she says weighs on him that much heavier, her missing him gets a shaky exhale from Jax, his frown crumpling and wobbling. His hands tighten into fists in his lap, for just one moment, before he loosens them; an internal war waged with the urge to push away at all costs. 

"I..." He struggles to look at her, but he tries, square pupils small and ears flopped over miserably. "I missed you, too. I didn't know what to do. I just—" A laugh, somewhat disbelieving, agitated, mocking, and entirely at himself. She's heard this all before, when he'd been so resigned to it. Now it's a rerun that hurts. His shoulders shrink in closer to himself. 

"I don't want to be— this. Anymore. I'm tired of living like this." His voice cracks a bit. He hates himself for it, and his shoulders draw in closer. "But I can't be anything else."

"I know." Pomni says softly, leaning her head onto his arm. "I know you're tired. You've been going through so much for so long, alone." A soft sigh, a loaded pause. "You could've come to me. You still can."

"I couldn't. I can't," Jax argues, but it's weak. Maybe it would've been firmer, just weeks ago, but now... there's hardly any teeth to it. It's a protest of necessity. He doesn't budge to try to move her, though. "I— god. I don't even know where I'd even start to try. It's... I mean, it'd honestly be stupid to even try. None of it really matters."

"Jax, you—" Pomni falters, thinks. Slips her arm in between him and his arm, linking them. "You already are. Coming to me, I mean. That's what we're doing right now."

Jax tenses, for just a beat, before he hesitantly eases. She's too close. It doesn't feel safe to let anyone this close again. 

And yet. 

"...I guess so," he agrees, albeit reluctantly, letting out a quiet sigh. "I guess it's easier to talk to somebody who was— literally in my head. It's—" He stops, huffing a bitter laugh. "I mean, it's not like you didn't probably get to see every single fucked up thing in there. So. It's... different. I don't know."

Pomni listens, thinks again. She's careful with her words and her actions, treats him gently. Not out of pity, or even fear, really. She just... really wants to be what he needs. "Well, I'm not going anywhere. I've seen it all, and I'm still choosing you. So— don't let go of me."

Jax listens to her, and there's an unreadable well of emotion on his face that he tries his best to swallow roughly. He turns just a bit— a hand is lifted, but hesitates, in the wake of an internal argument— before something just a bit more hopeful wins out. There isn't the desperation to his movements that there'd been within his abstracted mind; there's fear here, a vulnerability that feels like it could hurt that much more here, as opposed to what felt like the final moments he'd ever get to have. But, so tentatively, so carefully, she's pulled into a hug. A difficult but clear choice to not let go.

Pomni accepts eagerly. The moment he starts to move, she leaps to meet him, holding him tightly. Thank god, thank god, it wasn't too late. Maybe, with just a little bit of love and a hell of a lot of patience, anyone can be saved. Not everyone. But anyone. 

"You're one of the best friends I've ever had," Pomni tells him earnestly, her voice soft. "Even if you're an annoying jerk sometimes, you're my annoying jerk, and I love you. Don't forget."

He lets out a laugh, and despite his best attempts for it not to be, it's waterlogged. Her tight hold gives him permission to hug her more closely. It's still impossible for Jax to wrap his head around. Even if he wanted to live, if he was so scared of what it meant to be stuck in that dream state forever, he'd meant what he'd said. She shouldn't love him. She shouldn't care about him. But she does. After everything, she hasn't wavered at all. There's no way she doesn't know what he's done. How could she see that and still find it in herself to care? 

But she does. She does, and it's hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that he has... a constant. An anchor. Something he's never had in his entire life. 

"You're— sentimental and gross and annoying, you know that?" Jax manages, even with how tight his throat obviously is, even just from his voice. "...You're— I—" He struggles, for a moment, before tightening his arms in the embrace. "I love you, too. I'm... I don't— get it, but... I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you're here, too," Pomni murmurs, easing into him a little, some tension that was in her relaxing. His acceptance, however reluctant, is a massive relief. With one of the hands on his back, she gives him a little, reassuring rub. "We should get going before someone comes to check on us. I can practically feel them wondering what's taking us so long. But let's talk more later, okay?"

"Y— yeah, no, you're right, let's go," Jax agrees, and even though he doesn't want to let go, the idea of a knock coming at the door is enough to get him to detangle quickly. Within a few seconds, he's on his feet, straightening out his overalls (needlessly, considering fabric doesn’t really get rustled here) and making for the door. He does linger by the doorframe, though - and after a quiet moment of consideration, he turns the light on. The dim purple darkness turns pink and alive for the first time in years. "Let's get whatever they wanna talk about over with."

"Yup. Then we can do whatever you wanna do." Pomni hops down from the bed, scurries past him, and leads the way.