—chapter four.

❛ ariadne. ❜ 

"SO...UH...MAE-BABY?"

All she spared was a grunt, not tearing her eyes from the page.

"Are you...good?"

Madeleine Delacour was not, in fact, good.

Good would imply that she had slept even a second in the last twenty-four hours. And that she had not instead spent her time obsessing over any little detail her poor, frazzled mind could pick out of her strange trip to that stupid museum. Every part of it, even going down to the security guard on duty and trying to remember what he had said to her — it had been inconsequential, just a 'have a great time, ma'am', but god what if that was her missing puzzle piece?! That lazy customer service was some trigger her amnesiac mind had neglected?!

She had abandoned that man, whatever his name had been, pretty quickly when she had realised the real part missing. And then that had been the majority of her sleepless night, pouring over everything, everything she could while her roommate slept on like the rest of Washington, ignorant to her quickly declining mental sanity.

"What..." something rustled, and Mae finally glanced up to see Theo thumbing through her slim stack of scribbled notes. She bit back the urge to snap and just watched as the woman squinted at the words below. "Ninete...dude, what's this all about?"

Her eyes darted back to the computer in front of her. She hated using it; it usually gave her a headache. But she could barely feel her head anymore. "I couldn't sleep," she offered lamely, scrolling through yet another half-assed wiki page. "Had to do some work."

"Didn't realise you'd left teaching to start writing biographies. Let alone for the Star-Spangled hero himself."

Mae's lips pursed. "It's not like that."

"Then...you mind explaining what it is? 'Cause right now, I'm wondering if I should take you to get checked out. This is worrisome shit, Mae-baby."

"I'm — I'm fine, Theo. I'm just trying to figure something out."

"And what exactly are you trying to figure out?"

"I—" Mae stopped short. She had no good answer to that. Not one that could be explained through words, at least, because how in the world could she put into words the uneasy, churning sensation that had been agitating her gut the past twelve hours?

She silently passed over a small stack of papers she had printed — ignoring the roiling feeling in her gut. "I've just been trying to figure something out," she repeated.

"I — is this about last night?"

"No. Yes. I," Mae hesitated again. Something held her back, a little twinge of worry in the back of her mind. Theo was a friend. She could trust Theo. But...the way that her sister had reacted, was that going to be how her only friend did, too? "I don't know. I'm just trying to sort it all out."

On her laptop screen sat America's favourite hero, overlaid with the stars and stripes that had been his symbol for so many years. Big black words cut through his gleaming smile. 'WHERE HAS AMERICA'S HERO GONE?' asked the reporter, some Michelle Kan that Mae only knew from a pixelated icon, a brunette with a dog. Absent-mindedly, she wondered where Michelle was and what she was doing. If she was still wondered about the article she posted seven days ago and if she had the same anxious feeling in her gut that kept her up in night. Something that tasted like fear, but a bit too nauseating to be so innocent.

"Mae?"

There was a reason Mae did the things she did. Why she had rules and schedules and lists, so many goddamn lists. Why she followed them precisely, even when her mind got curious and her heart ached. The news made her nervous and the Internet made her nauseous. Too much death, too much hate; a long time ago, after the first incident, she could remember her father telling her to stop looking. And she had agreed because it was literally killing her, trying to find answers amongst weeds of rage and paranoia, and the world was too big for her small, tired mind to understand.

She knew that. She was okay with that.

Mae hadn't broken that rule of hers. Ever. But that night...she hadn't slept. She wanted to know everything. Needed, rather, because the incessant voice in her head wouldn't shut up until she knew everything about the turmoil occupying the world she had blissfully ignored.

"Terrorists," she mumbled, staring at a highlighted word. "They called them terrorists." She looked at Theo, who looked extremely confused. "I didn't know that S.H.I.E.L.D had fallen like that. Like...like there's nothing left. You'd said the Triskelion was just undergoing renovations."

Something passed over her friend's face. A flicker, a shadow, something Mae couldn't catch fast enough. It faded in a second and Theo was shrugging like it was never there, tracing long fingers over the piles of papers. "I doubt it's all gone. Weirdos like them, they're probably fine."

Mae looked back at the picture of Captain America. It felt weird to have a name for him; Steve didn't fit the image in her head. The things she'd seen, heard about him...the voice in the back of her head called him something else. She didn't really know him, but it fit too well. Criminal. Was that all he was anymore?

"The shit at the Triskelion happened like, weeks ago. Literally lifetimes have gone by. Why're you concerned now?"

"It's not about that." It was just an accomplice. An addition, and one Mae couldn't really crack. S.H.I.E.L.D was, after all, a spy organisation and even if it had been overturned it wasn't like their secrets could just get leaked or something. But they didn't really matter. "It's just...something about him."

Theo chuckled awkwardly. "You say that like you're fifteen with your first crush."

"I've read everything I can about him," Mae ignored Theo's slight, too stuck in her head to laugh at a bad joke. "I've done all I can. I called archives, the Smithsonian, I even tried to get into contact with Stark Industries—"

"—what, what?! Mae, what the hell are you trying to do, and what does Tony fuckin' Stark got to do with it?"

Captain America stared up at her. She could barely meet his blue-eyed gaze. "I don't know. I don't — something's wrong with me. Something happened at the exhibit. And I — I can't — he's stuck in my head, Theo. He's in there, and there's something I haven't figured out — like I can't—"

"—you're thinking there's a connection to him, and your past?"

She nodded silently, too distressed to put more words together.

Theo hummed. "I mean...it's definitely plausible. But let's not forget that Cap wasn't exactly around when you or I were growing up. The frozen in time bit, yeah?"

"I know. I'm not saying it's actually him," Mae sighed, "I know that's crazy. I don't think it's him. It's something about me. Something happened when I was younger, something negative that my brain attributes to him. But I can't figure out why or what, because my brain won't—" she slammed her hand down on the kitchen counter. Once, twice. Then until her palm ached. "It won't fucking work for me!" 

Then silence fell, and Mae found herself shrinking away, because Theo's sad, sympathetic expression felt too much like pity to stomach. Tears of frustration puddled in her eyes; that time she fought to hold them back, unlike the ones she had been working through for most of the night.

That was the horrible part about amnesia. The brain didn't forget: not really. But accidents jumble up the memories, and throw them out of order, or toss them down the wrong tubes where they got lost in the infinite space that was the human mind. So when trying to refer to a file, even the simplest things like the first time riding a bike or the seventy-fourth day of fifth grade or what her dog looked like the day they got him, the brain finds only an empty folder and maybe a vague clue as to what it was before they lost all the papers inside. Like a feeling of scraped knees, or boredom, or in specific cases...

Mae could see Captain America, stuck in her brain. Or, maybe it would make more sense to say she felt him. The sensation of a warmth, a promise of hope that she was told such a hero brought. But there was nothing else to say why. The file only had his pearly white smile, beaming in that ingenuine way she hated, and a strange feeling of despair.

"You can't blame yourself. Or your brain."

She glanced at Theo, her frown growing heavier. "Who else is at fault then?"

"Well — maybe your sister knows. She seemed defensive on the phone, right?"

Mae shook her head. "That wasn't like that. I thought so, but I think it was more just Abigail worried about the present. And I-I can't blame her! Now that I know the entire world's gone to shit, I...it's probably not even a significant memory. She probably would have no clue what I'm talking about, because it's as boring as any normal day in the life."

"Still. Would it hurt to try her?"

"Yes. If I do, she'll see the state I'm in, and she'll know I watched the news. It'll freak her out too much and I can't — I can't deal with that right now."

Theo nodded. "Understood. We'll solve this together then."

There was something so sure about the way she said it, that for a second, Mae genuinely believed that they could. That somehow, Theona Chavez, a disorganised purchasing manager with the humour of a thirteen year old boy, could remould her brain and solve all the mysteries keeping her up at night. But it was in the same moment, that that foolish hope died, and Mae remembered that it had been like this for all her life.

All the life she could remember, at least.

"I'm going to let it go," she promised Theo, even though she knew she wouldn't. "It's not that important. It's just my brain overreacting."

"Well, it might not affect the entire world, but it's important to you. I want to help."

"But I don't think you can," she said drearily. "If you could, then certainly doctors could've, at this point, and I'd be a normal person and not this—"

"—Mae, don't belittle yourself like—"

"—I'm screwed up, Theo, we don't have to pretend otherwise," she rebutted. "This is just one of those things. My mind's fried. And — and — this is just another reminder. And I'll never figure it out. No one's gonna tell me. Hey, for all we know, Captain America could be dead. So why am I worried about this?"

Before Mae could fly into another state of total panic (though she had been in one for most of the night, not that Theo needed to know that) her friend came around and pulled her to her chest. She wrapped her arms around Mae's torso comfortingly, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. 

"You know, you've done so much more than people said you would. You've done amazing things."

"Theo..."

"I mean it! You're a great teacher. You graduated top of your class and on the dean's list, despite coming off of a traumatic brain injury. You're a great roommate, friend, mother to a pain in the ass cat...and like, a thousand other amazing things too!"

Despite her aching insides, Mae smiled. "Bowie's a good guy. You're just mad he doesn't want to cuddle with you."

"All other cats do," Theo grumbled, but she could feel her smile pressed to the top of her head nonetheless. "Point is, you're amazing. And I know that you feel like you're screwed up, but you're not. You're doing your best in a super crappy world and that's incredible, Mae baby."

"But...I just want to figure this out," Mae whispered, her throat closing uncomfortably with the surge of raw emotion. "I want my brain to work with me. Just once."

"Then we'll figure this out," Theo promised, "together. Don't worry about it."

Mae couldn't believe her for a second. Not really. Theo was a lot of things, but all-knowing? Not one of them. She was going to figure it out, though. She would found a way in through one of the last people to speak to Steve Rogers before he went under. Not that it would probably yield much, but if she was trying to map out any places her and Captain America's paths crossed, it would probably be best to go straight to the source. 

She would find her answers. She wasn't going to lean on her sister or parents for support that time. Mae would fix it herself, and then get a good night's rest. Maybe sleep for a full week.

"Mae-baby?"

That would have to wait, though. "Yes?"

"Are you..." Theo hesitated, mulling over her words carefully. "Are you sure you want to go to work? You haven't slept and I don't want to have something happen to you. I can call in sick and we can have a day off here, so maybe you can calm your mind?"

"I'm just fine."

"Okay, I don't believe that for a second, and—"

"—Theo," Mae interrupted placatingly, "I know my limits. But I also know that maintaining normalcy is going to be better than staying here alone. Besides; I've never taken a day off. I'm not starting that streak today."

Her friend nodded, but she didn't seem convinced. Her warm brown eyes still glimmered with concern. "Text me throughout the day, okay? Let me know you're doing okay. And take it easy. Don't go crazy and try to have an adventure."

"When have I ever been the sort to have an adventure, Theona Chavez? Isn't that more your area of expertise?"

And Theo's smile deepened, with a little more slyness underneath. "You'd be surprised, Mae-baby." And before she could tease and ask just what that could possibly mean, her friend lifted herself up and hurried off around the corner. "Wheels up in thirty, get yourself ready!"

Not for the first time, Mae rolled her eyes at the strange expression. "Wheels up — it's not a plane," she muttered to herself, without any malice. She made quick work of her scattered piles, making one neat stack before shoving it into her bag. Not that she would dare to take her research out at work; having someone walk in on her madness was not ideal. But there was also no way that she'd leave it out for Theo to see. A coworker would be bad; her closest friend, who probably already though she was losing it, would be catastrophic.

"I'm going to figure this out," she promised under her breath, catching one last glimpse of Captain America's handsome profile. Her gut flip-flopped; the ever-familiar tug of something bad pulled at her, but she just slammed the laptop shut. "I'm going to figure this out. I swear it."

BUT WHILE MAE WAS HELLBENT ON GETTING TO THE BOTTOM OF HER MYSTERY, she was also a stickler for routine, and her schedule would wait for no man. Not even if he bore America's colours on his shield. So she set her obsession aside, and forced her brain to ignore it, at least until the rest of her responsibilities were dealt with. Or, tried to, at least.

Marking was one of Mae's favourite pastimes, because it had a pattern and there was no stress of thinking past what she already knew. She didn't have to strain herself for creativity she didn't possess; she just had to correct the test answers and scribble out the right answer, which was already laid out by herself a week before. Just dots and circles in her favourite red pen, and the wonderful sound of Vivaldi in the background, blocking out the rest of the world.

Only, that night she couldn't focus. Maybe it was the lack of sleep — though the eighteen, going on nineteen cups of coffee she had had in the past 36 hours certainly kept her feeling otherwise. Maybe it was the panic attack she still hadn't confronted, or the way Abigail had sent seven messages throughout the day reassuring her that everything was fine, like everything should not be. Being alone was also making her on edge, in a way it rarely did. That night her apartment felt too big and her far too small, and Mae was very tempted to ask Theo to come home.

"No, Mae," she scolded herself. Her hand shook as it scrawled out a cursive 'good work!' on the corner of the page. She didn't know if it was from nerves or the caffeine. "Theo's working late. And you're a big girl."

Still, she felt uneasy. Vivaldi was making her anxious, not at all soothing like it usually was. Her foot tapped a quick, rhythmic pattern on the floor, too fast to keep up with the orchestra in the background.

Someone's test laid in front of her, but her vision was too blurred to take in the name or any of the words scrawled on the page. She tried to focus, but it was all illegible. The music built, louder, harder, faster until it felt like it was inside of her brain and a thousand bees of incorrigible music were swarming to escape.

Mae huffed. Her hand slammed down, stopping the music just as it built to a peak. Silence hung.

But the bees were still there. Silent but they still buzzed through her skin, making their way through her arms and legs to the tips of her fingers and toes. Anxiety brewed its bitter poison and it dripped, dripped, down her throat until it clogged and she could barely breathe.

Still, Mae gulped, shaky as it was, and clutched tight to her red ballpoint pen. The page cleared enough to read the name: Julie. The bees still hummed but they were quiet enough for her to untangle the words of the test, to force her aching, buzzing fingers to scrawl an 'x' where they had to be.

Something blew through the room. A faint whisper of fear, making the hairs on her neck stand up. No windows were open, no one was in the apartment but her and a sleeping Bowie, but suddenly it felt like there were eyes everywhere. Watching. Waiting. Hungry. Wanting.

Mae swallowed again, cringing at the tar that crept up her throat and into her mouth. She wrote another checkmark on Julie's test. The bees got louder but there was no knowing what they were trying to say, only that they would not stop until she probably lost her mind, stuck in their endless riots underneath her delicate skin.

"Come on," she muttered, "you're fine."

She shivered. The apartment was freezing. She usually ran so hot, but in her button down and jeans, she felt like she might die of cold. And the shadows pressed so eagerly into the corners of the room, so much so that Mae kept having to look around, making sure that no sly beings were waiting to pounce, to eat her alive and lick her bones clean.

But there was no one. Still.

"You're fine," she said aloud again. A tiny laugh joined the empty promise, too shrill to be real. "You're fine. Everything is fine. Just relax, and—"

THUD.

Mae jumped in her seat. Bowie's head rose, pupils shrinking to mere dots in his bright green eyes. They looked towards each other. They wore the same fear.

THUD.

Her hand moved too fast, startled by the sound. Her nearby coffee splashed up and out, all over her shirt and spidery hands. But she hardly felt the burn as she stared, aghast, at where the noise had come from. Surely she had not imagined the loud, dull sound of something colliding with their door? Again?

Maybe it was just in her head. Maybe she was losing it. Having no memory of the last time things went wrong didn't help, because Mae had no idea if hearing bangs at the door was a sign to call her parents and warn them it was happening again. There was certainly no reasonable answer for something like that at ten to nine. Packages went downstairs. Tenants here weren't social; their landlord preferred email and hiding away like a hermit unless rent was overdue. And Theo had a key, and Theo wasn't loud like that.

"It's in your head," Mae assured herself aloud, really just to hear her own voice. "You imagined it. Get back to work." She swivelled on the kitchen stool and readied her hand again, only to realise that it was reddened and covered in brown, coffee that —

THUD. THUD. THUD.

That time, she didn't hold back. Mae screamed. Or, she tried to, except it came out more as a rushed, whispery whine of complete fear as she fell off her stool. Test papers flew down around her like snow. Bowie bolted out of sight. Coffee dripped, down their countertop to a small waiting puddle below.

She stared at the door, heart in throat as the thuds continued. They were quieter, then, but still constant, and she knew that it couldn't be in her head. Surely.

Mae was no idiot. Her parents had raised her to know how to take care of herself for self-defense purposes. She had attended a few classes and there was a bat, leaning against their doorway in case of an intruder. Theo always joked that Mae was her guarddog, the way she maintained security around the place.

But in that moment, all sense of courage flew out the window, and Mae felt completely helpless against what was on the other side of the door. 

She needed help. Her mind raced, trying to think of a solution. Her sister was too far. Parents too. They couldn't do more than placate her aching nerves. The police — but what if it wasn't real, Mae worried, what good would that do? If it was just a drunk neighbour who got lost, she'd feel like an idiot.

She rose to her feet, knees knocking together like a newborn deer, and grabbed her phone. Her skin stung with every movement, but Mae could care less about first-degree coffee burns when her life was in danger. Fingers trembling, she searched for the ever-familiar contact and clicked dial.

Her call was answered on the third ring. "Mae-baby? Sorry, I'm—"

"T-t-t-th-ther-there's a-a-a—"

"—Mae?" At the stuttering, Theona seemed to sober up very quickly, dropping her teasing tone for a comforting one. "What's wrong? Did something happen? Where are you?"

"Home," she gasped, and suddenly she realised how fast her heart was beating. Was she going to have a heart attack? She was too young — but stress could do that, right? And a frail mind trapped inside a failing mind, could she die from that too?! Even before the stranger at the door got to her? "I'm-I'm-I'm home, an-and there's, there's s-s-someone at the door, th-they—"

"—someone at the door? I," Theo paused, and Mae could just barely hear her shouting something at someone, but in her fog she couldn't tell what. Then she came back. "You have to remain calm, Mae. Okay? I'm coming home, but you have to listen to me. Can you do that?"

"O-okay. Yeah. Okay."

"Good. You're doing just fine, Mae." Footsteps. Theo was running. Bolting, just to save poor, fragile Mae. What if it was in her head? "Now. The door's locked, right?"

"Yes. Yeah. I-I-I made sure earlier."

"Good. Good. Now, I want you to tell me what the noise sounds like. Can you describe it to me?"

"Uh, it—" Mae's eyes squeezed shut as the thudding came again. Heavy, hard slams of something against the door, wanting to come in, wanting to get her. "Uh, they're — they're loud. Dull. Heavy."

"Okay. That's great, Mae."

"They're gonna get in, Theo, they, they're—"

"—calm, Mae. You need to listen to me."

And Mae did, only because she told her to.

"Good. Now, can you see the bat by the door? The steel tipped one." When Mae whimpered a yes into the phone, Theo hummed agreement. "I want you to grab that, and then go into your room. Okay? I'll give you instructions after that, but you need to have a weapon."

"Okay," she mumbled, clutching the phone as close to her ear as she could — like that was any kind of protection. She crept forward, one foot in front of the other. The door seemed a million miles away. "Theo..."

"You can do this. You have to do this."

"I-I can't, I—"

"—Mae. Grab the bat. Now."

She didn't know if it was the authoritative tone in Theo's voice, or the fear of being weaponless finally overcoming the fear of the creature, but Mae did as she was told. She slipped into the foyer and towards the door, stumbling over shoes and whatever doodads her roommate always scattered around with clause. Her fingers kissed the smooth end of the bat, before grabbing tighter and pulling back.

Mae crouched and steadied the bat in her hands. The phone stayed glued to her ear. "I got it, Theo."

"Where's Bowie?"

"Uh, h-he ran. I think towards my room."

"Okay." Something screeched on the other end. "Shit. Uh — grab him and go into your room. I'll be there in ten."

"What if he gets in?!"

"They won't. You'll be fine. Stay on the line with me, I'm almost there."

"Should I call the police?!"

"No!"

Mae paused in the doorway of the foyer, staring at her phone with confusion. "Don't call the police?!" She whisper-hissed. "Why not?!"

"Just stay on the damn line, and wait 'til I'm there. You'll be fine."

She moved to rebuke that, because Mae was terrified but she still had a couple grains of common sense, but then she paused. Slowly, she turned, bat and phone in duel hands, and stared at the apartment door.

"Mae? Mae, what's going on? Are you in your room yet?"

Then Mae heard the strangest thing of that night. Which was a lot to say, because that entire night had been one of the oddest she had ever lived through (or, that she remembered at least). After the banging had stopped, there was a sound of something sliding, like fabric against the door, and a sick squelching noise that made her stomach turn. And then, soft as a summer wind at twilight, came a voice. They only spoke one word, barely a sound and if Mae hadn't been straining to catch every detail, she might have missed it entirely.

"H....help..."

Her blood instantly ran cold.

"Mae? What's going on? I'm — I'm heading home now, just got into the car. Stay on the line with me, okay? Tell me what's going on in your head."

"Help," she whispered to herself, as though in a trance. "Th-th-they need help."

"What? Mae? What are you doing? Are you okay? Talk to me, baby, please. Tell me you're safe."

But she wasn't really listening anymore. Mae stumbled forward without clause or a thought of reason. Phone still clutched to her ear and body still as flushed and freezing with fear, she came to the front door and paused. There was only one thought running through her mind. It wasn't rational or smart, but she couldn't dismiss it. 

Something about that damned word had her in a chokehold. Like she had heard it before, only she couldn't remember when or why. But she knew she had to listen.

"They need help," she told Theo, almost in a trance. "I-I'm going to open the door."

"What? NO! Dammit, keep the door closed! I'm going to be there in ten, you better just let it sit and let me deal with it! You could be in serious danger, you—"

—without another word, Mae squeezed her eyes shut and flung open the door. She didn't dare look to see who was behind it, only waited for someone to say something —

— but there was no voice, no waiting stranger to come gut her and feast on her organs like she had feared. Instead, there was a soft thud and another squelching sound that almost made her retch her dinner all over their foyer.

"Mae? God, Mae, please tell me you didn't open the door. Mae?!"

She sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. But she saw nothing but their hallway. "I..." she stepped forward, ready to see if someone had ding-dong-ditched her, but her foot caught on something. She glanced down.

Not something. Someone. A body cased in worn leather, plaid and blood, so much goddamn blood, soaking through their front carpet and staining her house slippers. It was streaked across the person's face, down their front, and it coated their door. It looked like a horror movie come alive. Like those Halloween carnivals Theo loved, but Mae avoided because they were never good for her heart.

Except it wasn't an act. It was real. There was a real person bleeding out on her carpet and Mae was alone to see it, to watch them die if they weren't already lost.

"Mae? Mae?! Are you still there!? Fucking hell, if you're dead I swear I'll—"

And Mae threw up.

THEONA CHAVEZ WAS A VERY GOOD DRIVER. She was also a terrible one, depending who you asked. Like with most things in life, she never really cared about the rules. They were just guidelines for people with no excitement in their lives, she would say, with a screeching Mae in her passenger seat, imploring her to slow down. She'd speed 80 on a 50 road, ignoring stop signs, only to stop dead in the middle of the road to make sure a family of squirrels got across okay (even on the highway).

But her incredibly reckless skills of the past were nothing to the record she made, racing to get to Mae in less than eight minutes on a forty-five minute route.

Mae heard her, before she saw her. Loud, heavy footsteps clanging up the stairwell their place sat next to. Then the thumping of a bag, presumably her mysterious black one, clanging against everything as she ran. As she got closer, Mae could hear Theo cursing, raging expletives slipping from her lips as she ran down their apartment's slim hallway.

But when Theona stepped through the door, she was the picture of calm. Face composed, brows set furrowed over her normally so lively eyes, with full lips puckered ready for a question Mae knew she couldn't answer.

"I think he's dead," Mae told her miserably. She was sitting smack-dab in the middle of all the filth. Blood covered her skin, every bit it could grab, and bile still clung miserably to the back of throat. A horrible, raw stench of something cruel filled their foyer. She thought it sort of smelled like death, and a part of her worried on how easily she could identify that.

Theo's lips pursed even more. She knelt on the other side of the body, which Mae had identified as male, and hovered her hand over his mouth. She nodded tersely. "He's not dead. But he will be soon."

"W-what are we going to do?"

Her friend didn't offer an answer to that. She grabbed her bag and started rustling through it, throwing out the most random of things that Mae had never thought to be in there — gauze, needles, packages of silver and harsh white, and something long, thin and black that almost looked like a blade.

"Wet some towels. We need to get rid of this blood if we're going to fix him." Theo used the peculiar knife thing to slice down the front of the man's shirt. She seemed like she knew exactly what she was doing. "Bring me the small bottle in the top cupboard, too, second to the left."

"I—"

"—Mae," Theo barked, though not unkindly, "I know this is stressful. But please do as I say, so he doesn't die on our front rug. Do you understand?"

Mae nodded numbly and hurried away. As she left, Theo spoke, but not to her — to the man, strangely enough. It came at a low hiss, guttural and harsh. "This wasn't supposed to go like this," she heard her friend mutter, "she wasn't supposed to be involved."

It was all too much. It was wrong, so very, very wrong, and she wasn't made to handle this stress. If she broke before at the smallest of things, having a dying man get operated on in her foyer was — she couldn't handle it. That wasn't her.

"Abigail," Mae mumbled, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Her bloody hands made it gross and hard to use, but still she typed, searching for her sister's number. She would know how to handle it. She would know what to say, what to do. Not Theo; what could she do? She worked in the parks department, gods sake! 

She hurried to press the call button, cursing as her reddened fingers slipped, struggling to press and then begging for her to answer, and—

"—Mae? Come on, we don't have much time!"

Her fingers slipped again and hung up. Mae stared down at her phone, aghast and alone once more. But Theo's words rang through her head, and she gave up trying to reach her sister for the sake of the dying man. 

She'd already opened the door. She had to commit.

"How do we help him?" Mae asked, breathless as she fell on the floor. 

But there was no answer given. Theo only took the towels wordlessly, and began sponging down the stranger in quick, firm movements. Brows furrowed, tongue between her teeth, and blood creeping up her hands as she began working through the damage — she looked nothing like the woman Mae had met, all those years ago. A college student in too-big glasses and a big smile, asking if she could share umbrellas because 'they were walking the same way, anyways'. The same girl who cried at almost every movie they watched together (and denied it every single time) and who forgot her own birthday and who couldn't kill a spider, despite ginormous fear, because 'what if he has an important role in his spider tribe and I'm destroying an essential part of their economy?!'.

As Theo worked, Mae stared, and tried to find parts of the same girl who had waved her goodbye that morning with a deafening 'you got this, Mae-baby!'. But the woman before her was nothing like her exuberent friend.

A cold, creeping sensation pulled at the back of her neck, not unlike before. What else was Theona keeping from her?

"Mae?" 

She startled, nearly throwing herself back from the two of them. "I — yes?"

"I asked if you could grab the vodka under the sink." Theo frowned, and dark, clinical eyes washed over Mae's shaking frame. "Keep it together, okay? I can't deal with you both right now."

The blonde blinked, suddenly awash with a horrible feeling of betrayal, at such cold, cruelhearted words. She felt herself lifting into a standing position, though she couldn't remember asking her body to move, and heading mechanically towards the kitchen.

"Here," she mumbled a few moments later, flinching when Theo ripped it from her grasp. "I — what else do you want?"

Theo only grunted dismissively, leaving Mae to sink back down to the floor with her shame and confusion coating her skin. She watched, numbly, as the stranger was pulled and prodded and cut, all with tools Mae couldn't try to name, even if she tried.

All the while Theo muttered. Talked under her breath, mostly to the stranger, mostly cursing him out. Mae didn't catch most of it, too stuck in her own head. Only a few things stuck out: 'last resort', 'wasn't supposed to', 'too dangerous'...and it all just added up to a bunch of blank walls in the face.

Mae felt more alone than she could ever remember feeling, and that time there was no one around to comfort her. It was a horrible feeling, being alone and still surrounded by people, and while it'd been in her life before, it hadn't usually been so painful. 

Her head hurt. 

Maybe she shouldn't have opened the door.

Ariadne was the daughter of Pasiphae and Minos, King of Crete. Her story is synonymous with betrayal, as she gave everything, only for it to kill her*. She was quite beautiful and intelligent, but sucked into her father's games as she could not be independent or do otherwise. Ariadne helped oversee the Labyrinth, her father's foul creation, where seven young women and seven men were brought as sacrifices to the Minotaur within. One day, she met one named Theseus, and fell in love with him. Deciding she couldn't live with herself if he died, and hearing out his plans to slay the Minotaur, she chose to help him. She gifted him a sword and a ball of golden string that would lead him out of the Labyrinth after killing the dreaded half-bull.

However, while Ariadne adored Theseus and given everything up for him, it's said that he did not feel the same. Shortly after they had eloped, their ship stopped on the island of Naxos, and Theseus abandoned her here, despite all she had done for him. In some retellings, Dionysus finds her and marries her; but in others, she dies, either slain by Perseus later on, or by her own hand, hanging herself in grief. 

* - dependent on the retelling.

Fun fact, Theo named the cat 'Bowie'. Simply because she was listening to Cat People (Putting out Fire) when Mae brought him home, and the name stuck. However, his full name is Mr. Theodore Bowie. Because he's a gentleman.

Also...eek! Finally at the main conflict and perhaps a main character has just stumbled in!

Thank you for reading; let me know what you thought. :)