effective potentials

g | no warnings apply

"Light!"

As soon as she had pulled the car off to the side of the road and put the hazard lights on, he unbuckled and exited. She quickly turned off the car, popped the trunk, and hopped out ... only to hop back in to grab her keys.

And then again to put on the parking brake.

By then, he had already opened the trunk and gotten the jack, lug wrench, and spare out.

"Would you get back in the car already? You know I can do this."

"It'll go faster if we both work on it."

His tone made it clear he wasn't going back in, even as snowflakes landed in his hair and on his dark green jacket, making him look like he had a horrible case of dandruff. When she realized he had forgotten his gloves, she went back in for the third time.

"I don't want to get them dirty," he said, waving his hand dismissively before going back to loosening the lug nuts. "Are you going to help? You can, of course, stand around and gawk, but we'll be even later."

Clover shoved the gloves in her dress pocket and silently picked up the jack, positioning it to lift the car when it was ready. Her hands trembled and just as she thought at least he can't see me shaking, he set down the wrench and said, "It wasn't your fault."

"I'm just cold."

He didn't respond. She carefully cranked up the jack until the tire was just barely off the ground.

"It's ready."

He pulled the tire off and carefully rolled it behind the car, sliding his free hand along the cold, wet metal to keep himself from straying too far. She managed to get the spare in position but needed his assistance lifting it up and onto the axle.

They finished replacing the tire and lowering the car back down in relative silence. The snow picked up as they put the flat and the tools in the trunk. Once done, Light ran his hand through his hair, so it no longer looked like he had tiny diamonds sprinkled on him. Just greasy.

Her fingers were still shaking as she tried to turn the car back on. With the jingling of the keys, she couldn't hide it from him.

"I'm just cold."

"Clover."

"I'm wearing a dress."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I almost got you killed!"

She broke down, dropping the keys and gripping the steering wheel, choking through her tears.

"Did you intentionally run over whatever punctured the tire?"

"I couldn't even see it," she said, wiping wetness off her cheek. She heard him shifting in his seat, and in spite of the console between them, he managed to get close enough to put his arm around her.

"You steered us safely to the shoulder. You helped me change the tire. We're only going to be fashionably late and I guarantee you we will still arrive before Aunt Rita. I'm not harmed, physically or mentally."

They sat like that until her tears stopped.

"Oh dear."

Clover sat up in alarm. "What?"

"I just realized I didn't wipe my hands. I likely I got grease all over your dress."

She craned her neck to look where his hand had been on her shoulder. Sure enough, there was an ugly black smear on the bright green fabric.

"Doesn't matter," she said. "But we should get moving. If Aunt Rita gets there before us, I'll never hear the end of it."

She made sure he was buckled in before signalling and moving back onto the road. The skid marks behind them were already almost obscured with fresh snow.

-

The first thing she did was wash her face.

They had been living here for months - if you could call it living - but her stuff was all still packed up in suitcases and boxes. A carry on bag had her toiletries and towels inside. She pulled out her face soap and a washcloth and scrubbed her skin until it felt raw.

Aoi stood in the doorway, watching her.

"We're not done, are we?"

Akane squeezed out the excess water from the cloth and tossed it in the washer. "Hongou's in custody. The rest have been punished."

"That doesn't answer my question."

She didn't know how to explain it. Something ... something was wrong. It was as if ensuring her existence had thrown off the cosmic balance. But she couldn't think about that now. Shouldn't think about that now. She was here, with her brother, and he had something wrapped up in shiny silver paper in his hands.

"It's too late for my birthday. Too early for Christmas."

"I don't need a reason to do something special for my sister."

He handed her the gift and she started to pull loose the huge, lilac ribbon. When it fell to the floor, though, something broke inside her and tears began to fall. Aoi took the box back and set it on the counter before pulling her into his arms.

"You're home. You're safe."

They were words he had uttered before, when the timeline had twisted and she was reborn after dying, somehow corporeal after being burned alive. She hadn't really believed him then, and she couldn't believe him now. Something was wrong.

He stroked her hair, the way he used to do when they were younger, when he would tell her about how human touch released hormones to help with bonding and relaxation. He had changed so much, but in this moment, it was just like Before. Us against the world, he used to joke, but it really felt like that now. The world was shifting and changing around them, because of them, being molded into something she didn't know and couldn't trust. It was speaking to her on a cellular level, as her body solidified and stabilized after being in limbo for so many years.

Why couldn't she just let it go, right now, in the moment? She was alive, anchored in reality again, here with her brother, who had sacrificed so much for her. Why couldn't she get her brain to stop racing, jumping to conclusions, leaping into doom and despair?

She tried to relax into him. They had this time, after so much had been stolen from them. Whatever happens tomorrow, the day after, in myriad timelines and universes breaking off from this moment, nobody could steal this time from them.

"I didn't get you anything," she mumbled into his shirt.

"You're back. I don't need to worry about you blinking out of existence at any moment. That's all I need."

"Let's go out," she said suddenly, lifting her head to look in his eyes. "Let's have a nice dinner in a nice restaurant and see a horrible movie and nitpick all the plot holes."

Aoi smiled. A real smile, for the first time in years. He lost so much; she wouldn't let her fears take this moment of peace from him.

-

Diana laughed a little too loudly. Phi couldn't tell how empty the bottle of red velvet Bailey's was by looking at it, so she picked it up and shook it gently.

Damn.

Granted, she and Sigma had probably downed most of it. Diana was a lightweight. Phi's cheeks felt wonderfully warm as she leaned back and she curled up in the armchair across from her parents on the couch. She cringed as Sigma's laugh boomed out, even louder than Diana's.

And then she realized his lips weren't moving. And the reason why it was so loud was because it was resonating inside her head. She was about to chalk it up to being drunk -

I couldn't have imagined having this family this time last year.

-but that was definitely Sigma's voice.

"Are you projecting?"

Her father furrowed his brow. "What? No. Why would I be?"

"So you didn't just have some maudlin thought about how you couldn't have imagined having this family last year?"

"... shit."

"Wait." Diana struggled to sit up; it was difficult enough to get oneself out of their soft, incredibly comfortable couch when one was sober. "You guys said - hic - you were st-st-struggling with - hic -the whole telepathy - hic - dammit!"

"Yeah, we've barely been able to project single words to each other through the field," Sigma said.

"Maybe alcohol amplifies your ability," Phi theorized. "Or lowers any mental resistance your unconscious might have to sharing your personal thoughts."

Shit. So I could be transmitting all my thoughts? Gotta behave myself.

Boobs.

Boobs.

Booooooooobs.

"SIGMA!"

"I can't help it! It's like telling someone not to think of a white elephant!"

Elephant.

Trunk.

Dick jokes.

"I can't believe you're my dad."

Diana had gotten up and grabbed a plastic bag to breathe into to try to stop her hiccups. Instead of holding it over her mouth and nose, though, she had pulled it over her head.

"Are you picking up on Phi's thoughts?" she said in a muffled voice.

"... no, actually. Not picking up on yours, either."

"Well, I'm not as drunk as you are. But Diana is pretty wasted -"

"I am not!" She pulled up the bag, her face flushed and slightly damp from condensation.

"You did keep opening the fridge and asking why the bathroom was so cold."

"Sigma, that - hic - that - hic - oh shit." She put the bag back over her head.

"I wonder if we could induce whatever chemical change is allowing you to broadcast without alcohol. Then we could improve your morphogenic telepathy without all the bad side effects."

Dammit I have to piss again.

"Thanks for sharing."

"I can't help it!"

"Why - hic - isn't this - hic - working?"

Phi removed the bag from Diana's head and then gently guided it so it was only covering her nose and mouth. "Just keep it airtight and breathe normally."

Think about boring things. Calculus. Curves. Boobs. DAMMIT. I need to sober up. Crackers! They'll absorb the alcohol! And coffee, need coffee.

"That's not..." Phi trailed off as she took in the scene in front of her. Diana focusing very intently on breathing into the bag, her eyes moving back and forth as she tried to determine if her hiccups were gone. Sigma picking up crackers and then bread, mentally debating which would be better at sobering him up, apparently because he had forgotten everything he learned in physiology.

Not what she anticipated for their first Christmas together. But she wouldn't trade it for anything.

(fin)