Marx scrambled up the web as the person finally came to a stop, tripping and stumbling on the sticky strands in his haste. He tripped on his cape and face planted, sending the person up into the air a bit. He carefully picked himself up and reached out a tentative hand, poking the helmet to see if it was real.

Hazelmere flapped nervously around the person as Marx began disentangling them from the strands of sticky, glowing web. He kept glancing around nervously to see if anyone was near, but no one came to this part of the Rift and there was no one around.

After a few excruciating minutes of freeing the person, Marx finally pulled the last strand from them and gently picked them up in his arms, his breath in his throat. After all this time, there was a living, breathing human being right there where he could see them. He took a half second to compose himself, then began carefully carrying them down to the ground. The thick webs held under their combined weight and they made it to the ground with relative ease. Marx adjusted the person in his arms a bit and began the long trek back to the cave.

****

Marx sat silently beside the rough rock wall, impatiently waiting for the person to wake up. He had laid her in the middle of the cave on his makeshift stage, using his cape as a pillow and summoning a tiny light just bright enough to see. During the wait, Marx and Hazelmere talked in quiet and excited voices. Hazel, though, was more cautious and warned Marx that the person was going to be scared and most likely would try and hurt him, but he was too excited to care.

Not even five minutes passed before she stirred on the rock and blearily sat up, staring at her surroundings and getting increasingly scared. Her eyes finally fell on Marx, sitting there as if frozen. She fumbled at her belt and pulled out a small ray gun, scrambling to her feet and pulling the trigger, but the gun only responded with an empty sounding click. She tossed it aside and picked up a large, sharp rock instead.

Marx put his hands up in a nonthreatening way and slowly stood. "I'm not going to hurt you," He said quietly. He closed eleven of his eyes, shutting out Hazel's I-told-you-so's and took a tiny step towards the girl. He came into the light enough for her to really be able to see him and she gasped. Marx cringed, thinking she was gasping at how strange he looked.

"...Marx?" She whispered, lowering the rock. She took a step closer. "Marx?!" She exclaimed. Marx froze, shocked.

"How do you know my name?" He asked. A mixture of fear and excitement ran through him and he raised his voice a little. "Who are you?" 

The girl seemed confused. "It's me, Marx... Don't you recognise me?" She slowly took off her helmet, revealing her face. She had short, dark hair-longer on one side with pink tips-and bright green eyes. Her skin was very tan and she had a small scar on her eyebrow that seemed familiar to Marx somehow, but he only very, very faintly recognised her. He knew it was the Creature holding back his memories, but he still couldn't remember.

The girl must have seen some hint of recognition behind the total shock on his face because she dropped her rock, ran over and hugged him. She crushed her face into his chest, saying his name over and over, and the closeness was too much for Marx to handle. A horrible jolt ran through him and he pushed her away frantically, scrambling back until his back was against the wall. The girl's expression changed to hurt and confusion.

Marx fought the weird feeling her hug had caused, confused. The girl said something but he ignored it, his eyes scrunched shut so he could calm down. I haven't been hugged for so long that it feels wrong. At least, I think I remember hugs feeling right before all of this. He thought. "Marx?!" The girl's voice sounded strangled and Marx realised he had done the wrong thing. He opened his eyes to see her staring at him with so much worry and concern that he had to close his eyes again. Hazel landed on his shoulder and hissed at her.

"Marx, please, it's me-Tamara," Her voice began to sound desperate, and the name sent a shiver of recognition through him. "Please tell me you remember who I am!" Her voice broke. "Marx!" Marx opened his eyes once again and rearranged his thoughts until he could respond.

"You're so familiar," He swallowed, "But I can't remember who you are. My memories are being held back by magic. I'm sorry," Tamara's face collapsed into a horrified expression. "Marx... What have you had to go through? What did it do to you? Oh, Marx, I'm so sorry all of this is happening," She wiped her eyes and sat down hard on the rock. "I wish everything could just be back to normal." Marx looked down at the ground, wanting to agree with her so much but unsure of what normal even was anymore. 

Hazel nuzzled his cheek and flew over to Tamara, sniffing her cautiously. She flinched away from the bat at first, but was soon petting her tiny, pink head while Hazel licked her wrist with her glowing tongue. "Who's this?" Tamara asked quietly, petting Hazel in such a way that she let out a chirruping purr that normal bats didn't make. "Her name is Hazelmere, but I usually call her Hazel. She likes you." Marx said, having to swallow a few times before the words could even come out. Tamara smiled. "You know, Hazelmere is the name of a pink bat from the book we wrote as little kids. The book was pretty terrible, but Hazelmere was such a cute character that we didn't care. It was only four pages long, and drawn in crayon. Is that why you named her Hazelmere?"

Marx was silent for a few seconds. "I'm not sure. That was before my mind was wiped." They lapsed into silence for a few seemingly endless minutes.

"...I think I missed you." Marx said. "Before this, there was this feeling of missing something, but it's gone now that you're here."

Tamara jerked her head up in surprise and stared at Marx.

"W-what?"

"I think I missed you. Looking at you now, I have this feeling like I had been missing you for a very long time, but I hadn't known it. Almost as if you're bringing my memory back, somehow. How is that even possible?" Marx wondered. Tamara stared at him with wide eyes. "I didn't think any of this was possible, so who knows? You're so different than the Marx I know, but you talk the same way he used to when he was confused about something, so maybe you're not so different from him after all. Up there, they think you're evil like the Creature, but I haven't seen you do a single evil thing since I got here, and I know if you acted like the people up there claimed you would you would have devoured my soul or killed me or something by now."

Marx shuffled his bare, grimy feet on the floor. "I don't want to be evil." He said quietly, but with feeling behind it. Tamara sighed. "Yeah, I know you don't." She said with the faintest of smiles, wiping the last tears from her cheek.