Having sent May Then My Name home with a few extra griddle cakes and then run out of daylight, Debarre and End Waking gave up on any additional work for the day. The tent was livable, if incomplete, and a bit of a break felt nice, anyway. They sat beside each other before the fire and watched the flames, not speaking, simply enjoying the warmth and each other’s company.
At least, Debarre enjoyed the warmth and the feeling of his boyfriend beside him. He couldn’t tell what End Waking was thinking or feeling. He’d not said a word since wishing his cocladist goodbye and good luck.
“Thanks for letting me stay, E.W.”
“Mm? Of course, my love. I am glad for your help and your company.”
He nodded. Silence fell again. End Waking put another log on the fire.
“I know that I am a less-than-ideal partner, Debarre. I do love you, I promise.”
Here it comes. “Love you too, E.W. Want some space after we’re done with the camp?”
“Please,” the skunk said after a long pause. “I do not like sending you away, but so much has happened this last week, these last few months…”
He scooted closer to End Waking and slipped an arm around his waist. It was probably more affection than the skunk would have preferred at the moment, but he needed at least something to go with that statement. End Waking seemed to realize this, as well, and although he didn’t reciprocate the affection, he did at least relax against Debarre’s side.
“What do you suppose they are doing on Artemis?” End Waking asked, staring at the fire rather than up to the stars.
“Hmm? My guess is that everyone’s getting settled in by now. All those who went along with have probably dug homes or whatever they call it in the fifthrace area, and some are probably getting pretty good at…uh, Nanon, was it?”
“Did Debarre#Castor go with?”
“No, actually. He still hasn’t told me why, either. He’s at least spent quite a bit of time in Convergence. Lots of visiting with Codrin and Dear. Have you heard from them? They’ve quite a name for themselves there, apparently.”
“Only when Dear writes clade-wide. It and I were never as close as we could have been. It sounds happy, at least, and passes on good stories.”
He laughed. “I can’t imagine anything but, honestly. Any news of the others?”
“Codrin sounds unhappy, and I cannot quite piece together why.”
“Really? Like, with eir new job?”
“Oh, no, ey still seems quite pleased with that from the text, but the subtext is that ey is displeased in some other, more fundamental way. I always get that sense when news includes the topic of Artemis.”
“What about Sorina, though? Doesn’t ey have connections through her?”
The skunk shrugged. “I do not know. These communications are simple family letters or those little quippy snippets that Dear is so fond of. Nothing in depth.”
Debarre hesitated, unsure of how to broach the question. No way out but through, ey thought, saying, “What about True Name#Castor? Anything from her?”
“Not you, too,” he said with a groan. “I cannot seem to escape her today, can I?”
“Sorry, E.W.”
He sighed. “No, it is okay. If that is what is happening, then that is what is happening, and we are bound to talk about it. One moment, then.”
There was a long silence from End Waking. Debarre imagined him trudging through exos, reading back through clade communiqués that his down-tree instance over on the LV had sent back.
“She remains herself,” he said at last. “I mean truly herself, not the bent and twisted True Name of Lagrange. Competent, confident, in complete control. She strives behind the scenes in both Convergence and the rest of Castor as she always has.”
“‘Bent and twisted’? I mean, she sounds like she’s having a rough time of late, but that bad?”
“This is also subtext, my dear. The True Name of Lagrange no longer writes the same way as the True Name of the LVs. True Name#Castor is as True Name was back before Launch, and True Name#Pollux has settled down with Zacharias and sits on the Guiding Council, whatever that is. The one here is…” He frowned, visibly hunting for words. “She is no longer what she was. She is middle-management. She is overworked and underappreciated. She continues on with her plans, to which I assume she still clings tight, but that comes with a sense of desperation that I cannot otherwise place. She is bent and twisted nearly to the point of fatigue, as when one bends a paperclip until it snaps.”
“Is that why you think May Then My Name wants you to merge down?”
“To break her, you mean?”
Debarre nodded.
“Perhaps, yes. She shared more with me before she arrived and I do…I do see the reasoning behind her request. What that actually means to her, however, I am not sure. Does she want to shock True Name into becoming whatever she considers a real person? Does she want to break her out of rigidity and make her more complete? Does she want her to move beyond whatever this unspeakable atrocity is through force alone? I do not know.”
“Maybe just hurt her without killing her,” he added.
End Waking looked at him sharply, then subsided. “Also a possibility. Had you suggested that a decade ago, I would have been quite upset, because I do not think that who May Then My Name used to be could possibly have been so vengeful, but I am not sure that that is the case anymore.”
“Is that such a bad thing, though?” Debarre frowned, hunting for words. “I mean, I love her, I think she’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, but she was almost a caricature with how sweet she was. If she can be anything other than head-over-heels in love with everyone she meets, wouldn’t that mean that she’s a more complete person, too?”
The skunk tensed and carefully scooted an inch or two away from Debarre, gently nudging the weasel’s arm from around his waist.
“Shit, I’m sorry, E.W. I didn’t mean to offend.”
He laughed. A short, sharp bark of a laugh that was more bitter than amused. “Fuck you, Debarre. Fuck you and how right you are.”
Debarre blinked, nonplussed.
“You are right. It is terrible that she has to hate someone to be more complete, but you are right. However, my love,” End Waking said, grinning humorlessly. “That means — that must mean — that the same holds true for me, caricature of penance that I am.”
He laid his ears flat, nodding. “Sorry, E.W.”
“I do not know what a more complete version of myself looks like. I do not know how to attain that. I have no up-tree instances who have led earnestly happy lives to merge down and complement my fundamentally unhappy one. Perhaps that is why May Then My Name’s idea rankles. Should I merge down and True Name learn to repent, learn to become more whole, then she will have done so without the work of actually having done so. Should I become happier, then I must work further years.”
“I dunno, is that true? I mean, yeah, she in her current form won’t have done the work of repenting. Her body won’t have been the one living out here in the middle of nowhere, but she’ll have…when did you last merge down?”
“I do not remember.”
Debarre squinted. “I don’t think it works that way.”
“I do not remember, Debarre,” End Waking said tiredly. “Sometime before the first centennial.”
He held up his paws, surrendering the point. “Then she’ll have more than a century’s worth of work dumped on her, and she’ll be the one who has to process that and try to integrate it. Can you imagine how fucked that’d feel? Can you imagine what she’d become?”
“Do you think I should merge down?” End Waking growled.
“I don’t know, E.W. I really don’t. Let’s drop it, though, okay? I’m just gonna keep on hurting you if we keep this up, and I really don’t want that.”
The skunk sighed, nodded, and, after a moment, reached out and took Debarre’s paw in his own. “I am sorry I got so worked up. I do need a break from the topic, though. Thank you, my love.”
He smiled cautiously and gave that paw a little squeeze.
They sat in silence for the rest of the night, then, watching the fire burn low until the skunk put it out. They stripped down for bed and, for the first time in months, climbed into their cot within their tent — theirs at least until the need for solitude struck full force again. They shared their wordless intimacies and then curled together for sleep.
“You know that she will have memories of this, too, my love,” End Waking murmured.
“Let her,” he said, yawning. “You’re more complete than you give yourself credit for. If the goal is for her to have some semblance of that, let her.”