Yet another AU-UBER, (swap for &) when will it end?

The porchlight flickers, and Ivan thinks for a moment. He should go back inside.

And face her.

Look her in the eye, and tell her why he lives by his guilt. Why her kindness broke and burned him like coal or ice. The infatuation he felt for her charitable nature, and how grounding it was to see it in her Lamented, in the Grim.

Why it hurt so badly that hers was not the face of his wife and the shame he held inside that he’d ever wanted that.

The ring that would’ve stolen her body for him to use. And how his fingers traced it with the fain worship of the lover he failed. Of someone that would’ve been changed even if he’d succeeded.

He turned around and opened the door, unlocked but safer still for his loitering.

Ivan looked around the Mourner’s home, in the dull blacked-blue of curtained dawn, and the space felt safer than the night before.

More familiar.

He’d thought with how quickly he let himself out that the room would feel strange, but it didn’t. It was simply hers, which was still too many things for him, but not so much of any one thing that strange would be an apt description.

Ivan could recognize how small it had been, how much space there actually was once he was no longer subject to such important expectations.

He looked down at the coffee he’d left to cool on her counter and was contemplating whether or not to simply drink it in apology to the Mourner and his rejection of her hospitality.

He’d entered her house and he left just as abruptly, and for a moment he thought he should.

“There’s a sink over there. You can simply wash the cup you know,” the Mourner says, “or leave it there, and make new.”

That simple reprieve, the logic of it was. Palliative.

“I know this, certain of it. But I’m never sure that an option I’m given is real.” he admitted off hand, thinking back to the actual reasons for his actions.

The things that worried him.

He watched Poppy as she went over to her spot on the loveseat. Back to read what she had out the night before, they were papers of various designation, some of which obviously pertaining to the more common disappearances and crimes that occurred in Blithevalley.

Some before the Grim’s existence, and some after.

Too long after.

It takes him a moment to realize that while she’d been looking down she hadn’t been reading, just listening, “That’s not strange. Now that I think of it.” She says absently.

“Glad to see you’ve noticed.”

“Well, we psychological professionals can’t all be so gracelessly ignorant of our patients,” Poppy smiled graciously, before the curved line fell, “I’m sorry that I fell asleep while you were outside. I wasn’t sure you’d need me to follow.”

“You were right to. You were tired, and I can’t exactly expect to be entertained.”

“Well sure, but I was hoping for something good to come of our little disagreement,” she said, thinking back, “I wonder if it was all that prudent of me to do nothing.”

“I’m not sure it matters.”

“It does, but I understand why it would be hard either way.” She said finally seeing the pages in front of her, there contents or whatever else. “You should make us some coffee if it really worries you. Make extra even!”

“I’ll take an order once it’s given.”

She smiles at this, “Like I can’t take a hint, go ahead. the civvy will be up soon anyway.”

“Thanks for the clarification.” He says finally, everything is weird. As strange as fate but less insensible and more careless. And he supposed that was just how she was now that she was grown, now she knew her role in the Grim’s mind.

At least he thought she knew.

He went to rinse out her maker, it was a basic pump filter set up like was common enough, there were older things in custom, but it wasn’t too far off from all else he’d seen. He was a bit sidetracked trying to find the other relevant paraphernalia.

Filters, the like. He’d never been left to man her appliances, so it was at the very least a new angle.

It was nice enough to be a little sidetracked with it, once the girl woke up. “Can I smell coffee?”

“Yeah he-” she stops herself before turning to Ivan, “Have you shared your name with this one?”

“No of course not.” He responded quickly. “She’s not exactly one of the Grim’s you know.”

“Oh right, so what was the shorthand?”

“Well, she referred to me as ‘mute’ yesterday.”

“I did not.” she said a bit defensive this early in the morning.

“Yes you did.”

“I said you were supposedly mute, not that you were!” she turned over to Poppy, looking her over, “I know that he’s sometimes-mostly called the Signing-rider, and that he doesn’t talk.”

“What a good soldier! Using all our little tools.”

“Finally some recognition!” he said, a bit brave given the company. he went ahead and collected a few of Poppy’s mugs for parsing.

“I can mix my own,” the girl says recognizing Ivan’s mode of conduct, “hey, um what day is today?”

“it’s not a weekday if you’re worried about that.”

“No, I wasn’t. I was hoping that you’d wake me before the two-day mark at least.” She said, before figuring out where to sit. Choosing the little chair nearer to the kitchenette.

“As is only ethical.”

“Right. Well, I’d assume so. I guess I’m still a bit woozy from yesterday.”

“That’s fine.” Poppy says, before offering in consolation, “Are you curious about anything? We’ve got time to talk before bringing you home.”

“Do we?” the girl asked.

“I think so, you found a cord in there?”

“I was too tired before, I kinda did just plug it in.”

“See, we do have time.”

“Alright. I hadn’t realized I didn’t ask for your names, but hearing all that. I kinda feel weird about it-”

“That’s alright, I don’t imagine everything about this is expected,” Poppy her cuts off.

“That’s the thing, it kind of is. Do I know you?”

“Probably, if you’ve been in outpatient psychiatric care.”

“Oh, your that chick! All right, you make so much more sense now.” She says plainly to the room, apparently satisfied in her curiosity. Poppy smiles, halfway laughing at the now rightly familiar girl. Ivan still fetches her cup, a bit over-creamed and over-sugared for his liking and she grimaces.

“Goodness I’m cheap.” Poppy said exasperated by her own spending habits. Knowing full well that the coffee she was drinking was only of so-so quality, and in admittance was her own fault.

Ivan for his part had already found a spot across from the Civvy awaiting their departure, and decided rather pointedly to ignore the alternative explanation.

“It’s not so bad,” the girl says a bit less choosy.

“I know that; I’m just acknowledging myself.”

“You’re not supposed to self-deprecate you know,” the girl says snidely, “passive aggression is still aggression.”

“Patients are no fun.”

“Yeah.” The girl said smiling to herself. “So, how long have you been the ‘Grim’s’ than?”

“Just a little less than my entire life.” The Mourner said honestly, before she turns her head toward the door expectantly, for a moment at least, seeming to await their leaving. When the door opens unprompted, and unexpectedly by Ivan and the Girl. Rather widely so, did the Grim’s Spawn make her appearance, grinning madly and saying, “I’m here!”

Poppy smiles back, “of course,” before turning to Ivan, “can you?”

He does so, picking himself up, and fetching a mug.

The Wanderer went straight to the loveseat, right over the armrest so as to leave the papers undisturbed, and landed more or less lazily beside Poppy. Ivan took the mug over, and the Wanderer pulled her leg up to rest it on while they spoke.

“Do you always unlock the doors during the day?” the Civvy asked, a bit more risk aware than the others in the room.

“No, not usually. Still it was little difference last night with Ivan on watch,” Poppy said pointing to him, before turning to the Wanderer, “Did you see Zillah out there?”

“Well yeah, she’s sleeping on the steps.”

“Good, that’s deterrent enough, I think.” She smiles, while the Civvy fidgets a bit.

The Civvy pops up a bit less prompted, toward the bathroom door shutting it. She’d apparently had a fast reaction to her drink, or was a little embarrassed over the Mourner’s previous responses.

Ivan simply waited in the room as an observer in the moment.

“I didn’t realize that he’d be leaving so soon.” Poppy said, seeming a little sad over the Grim’s leaving.

“Well someone on the roster made a request. That’s kind of why he called me home.”

“It’s nice that you refer to this place as home.”

“Thank Freud I think I slipped!” The Wanderer said, “Do you still have a bed open?”

“Only the one once the Civvy’s out.”

“Alright, I can wait.”

“You could probably help with that,” Poppy said, always aware of human expectations. “Ivan has to drive her home anyway, so it’s probably best that he keeps a trusted visage on escort.”

“Makes enough sense in daylight.” The Wanderer responded. “Though I gawk at the strategy.”

“It’s been a long time coming. People trust him more now. And besides, your much smaller. You might even come off as less of an apparition.”

“ha” the Wanderer laughed, before looking over at Ivan not to say anything, simply to scrunch up her face in mockery. Poppy didn’t say a thing, knowing that they were likely to do as she suggested even if.

“Hey, you can probably check out now.” The Wanderer said, guessing well enough that the Civvy was ready to go home.

She did, leaving the bathroom and fetching her phone before going outside with the Wanderer. Poppy put her hand on his shoulder and took a breath.

Ivan was suddenly very worried.

He’d done nothing in their time together, but the action was implicative.

“Can you turn around?” she asked, and he did.

“I’m sorry for before.”

“I said it was fine.”

“Yeah, you did. But I know you worry,” she says, “I worry.”

Ivan is a bit more so hearing her say it, but it’s a relief also.

She knows right?

Poppy swallows again, “The possibility of a relapse is our responsibility. The Grim maybe, but mine practically.”

“I argued for you. If I don’t do anything- everything I can as early as I can to help you then it’s pointless.” She said looking away, before she looked back to him.

“What that means in my case, is making sure that you can at least start to develop some self-assurity in your decisions, and some understanding for your growth.” She said truly serious with him.

“You’ll need that. No matter where you go.” She said, finally letting go of his attention.

Okay. That was a lot. He thinks a bit shellshocked.

He’d managed to be in her apartment for an hour without bolting, but- goodness he didn’t expect that. He leaves Poppy in her home finally, thinking he’d stayed for much longer after the others.

Only to find that all was to be expected, “that was quick.” The Wanderer says.

“Was it?” the Civvy asked.

“Yeah, her lectures usually take longer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she continued, before calling to Ivan, “hey, I’m not gonna need to carry anyone right?”

“No.” Ivan said, before nocking his kickstand and mounting his bike. Motioning for the civvy to hop on while Zillah took her lead down the path, and for the Wanderer to fly behind.

They drop the girl off without much fanfare right in front of her house, which was apparently unlocked at that hour. Which was strange, though he supposed the Grim’s spawn might have the same tricks as her forbearer.

It was then that the Wanderer admitted, “You know, I thought I was gonna have to call, ‘hey you’ all next week.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he was being pretty evasive. Even if it were just to protect your info. Then you went and told me. It was great.” There was a whining nasally tone in her laugh, “Not to come off as ungrateful.”

“Well, you’re welcome.”

“It’s all right Ivan, I just knew that he was trying to be. And I thought it was funny that you wouldn’t give him that.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” she said mocking, “Do you want mine also, since you were so forthright?”

“I probably won’t need it. To be sure and known.” He said, thinking of that oh so certain language the older tongues kept. “Besides, it would be just as good to dub you Wanderer. Wouldn’t it?”

She looks at him blankly for a minute, “honestly I’d say close enough, but I’m not certain I’d respond to that. How about Roam?”

“Roam?” Ivan said tasting the name, he couldn’t say it was ill-fitting. And it was rare enough otherwise. So he nodded without much opposition.

“Alright.” She said, “I was hoping you wouldn’t be too attached to that one.”

Ivan didn’t respond to that, looking around the spot they’d stopped. It was a park somewhere in the northern half of Blithevalley and while he recognized it to a point, the general area wasn’t one that got a whole lot of spectral activity, which precluded him from keeping a real map in his mind.

“You know, he told me about the rules,” she said leading, “and I was thinking, do you mean for him to abuse it by the letter or the spirit?”

Ivan didn’t have an answer for that. He knew that there was a limit to what one could say simply in regard to an enthrallment, and the fact was that those were the things that matter to the Grim. The city, it’s people. Their bodies.

Everything else was much less important.

“I don’t mean anything by it really. It just seemed very loose,” she said, stretching her hand like a claw and back, “then you gave your name, and it was real. He told me it was.”

“So I think his perspective was accurate.”

“You’re a lot more talkative than the Grim.” He says, feeling a bit sidetracked.

Her lip crooks, “Of course I am, I’m a bit more reflective also.”

“Funny.”

She smiles at this which for a moment he thinks is plaintive before she speaks again, “I don’t think you should make believe that the one from which I bend is without impulse. He is like all great-things dead and living, capricious to his own whims.” Roam says smiling, “But I don’t think he’s so unimpressed as to oppose you on everything, at least anymore.”

Such easy words he thinks, not so far gone from the year before, “I’ve not been bound so long.”

“Neither have I.” she says, an odd admission from the Grim’s pride and joy.

Ivan holds it in his thoughts, unarranged before him. He’d seen it in them, happy reunions, but he wondered, what transgressions could she have committed as the youth of a youth?

That is neglecting her nature.

They parted ways with his mind still weary, work still undone. He can only hope to be braver tomorrow, since the ring is still burning his pocket.