chapter six.

❛ phobos. ❜

LITTLE MIRACLES WERE STILL MIRACLES, and Madeleine Delacour would take any the universe threw at her gratefully. Even if it was something so pitiful as sleeping through the night, something most took for granted. Because at least she had that, a full eight hours of blacked out rest, no dreams no nothing.

It was a bit strange that her sleeping pills worked, because they hadn't worked before. But she guessed her body was so exhausted that it just needed to sleep and her restless brain be damned. Which, hell, she wouldn't complain about that.

Mae glanced at the time flashing on the clock beside her bed. Nine o'clock. A small, derisive snort slipped from her lips as she stared at the red numbers. How long had it been since she had slept in? Was there even a single memory, still left in her dilapidated storage vault, for such a phenomenon?

She had half a mind to take a picture of the time. To memorialize the day. Maybe it was a turning point for her. 

Not that that was important, however. She still had a routine to follow and though she didn't mind altering it for such a special occasion of actually sleeping, it still had to be done. Mae hummed and reached for the outfit set out the night before, ready to —

— she paused, hand outstretched and scrabbling for...nothing. Because she hadn't followed routine last night. Because she hadn't done anything except take her pill and fall asleep. But Mae couldn't remember why. 

"Strange," she muttered, staring at her empty fingers. "Why didn't I...?"

Her mind felt murky. Swimming through the swampy thoughts was an impossible feat; Mae barely made it a few hours into her day yesterday before she had to stop. The sleeping pill really hit her strong, she mused to herself, scratching her head absent-mindedly. Or was this a symptom of something bad, too?

No matter. She would just be spontaneous and pick her clothes that morning, even if it made her head feel a thousand times fuzzier. Mae chose a light, sky-blue sweater that felt just above her hips, and gray pants with careful pleats pressed into the gentle fabric. She reached for the slacks' hanger, only to pause, a flurry of colour catching her gaze.

She pulled the offending garment into view; something she had forgotten she had even bought. The memory was foggy, but she could remember picking it out, feeling the soft, pretty floral fabric between her fingertips. It was a soft, dusty pink, with flowers scattered across the dress that reminded her of apple blossoms, and of a good time in a life she couldn't remember living. She could still remember tracing the blossoms and exhaling something wistful, nostalgic.

Abigail had hated the dress. Said it didn't flatter her shape, made her look like she'd walked out of the Great Depression. And truthfully, Mae didn't like how it looked on her either. The dress was beautiful, but it was made for a different woman. Someone that wasn't her, someone with life in her eyes.

Mae sighed and put the dress back gently. One day she'd remember to get rid of the stupid thing. Someone else deserved to wear it. It wasn't a dress for a woman like her.

Fifteen minutes was all she needed to catch up on her schedule, and after she was done adjusting her sweater against herself and shaking sleep from her mind, Mae slipped out of her bedroom. Immediately, Bowie was there to greet her — as per usual — but the large cat was not purring and excited for food as usual.

"Bow?" Mae knelt, gently rubbing the cat's face. He looked at her, recognition in his yellow green eyes, but the poof of his tail didn't die down. Nor did his tense posture and folded ears. "What's wrong, sweet boy?"

Bowie, of course, did not answer. But he did follow her down the hall and to the kitchen, still stiff but the promise of food luring him on.

"Sorry for sleeping in," Mae said groggily, still watching her feet to make sure she didn't trip on her cat. "I didn't mean to...guess those pills Dr. Crane prescribed weren't half bad."

"Oh. It's fine. I'm glad you could sleep."

Something about Theo's tone made her stop short, Bowie's protests falling on deaf ears. If there was one thing Mae knew about her friend, and sometimes she wondered if she knew anything at all, it was that her voice always carried emotion. Whether she was sad, happy, angry, frustrated at her dickwad of a coworker stealing her files — it always bled into her voice. Rich and expressive. But there was nothing in Theo's tone at all.

"Is...something wrong?"

"No," Theo said, too quickly for something to not be wrong. "I'm glad you slept. Oh, hey, I'll feed Bowie, what if we do breakfast in say, your room? That's a fun thing."

Mae tore out of her friend's reaching grasp. "What is up with you? Why are you acting like this?"

"Oh, me? No, just, let's not lose our heads or—"

Theo's voice faded as a new sight came into view. A tall, very tall man, with straggly shoulder length hair and her father's clothes straining against gauze-wrapped muscles. He stomped into their kitchen area, and all Mae could do was stare as their gazes met.

And then, like her entire morning had been spent in a tunnel, her brain cleared and it all came back to her.

"It's in your head."

THUD THUD THUD

"Mae? What's wrong? What's going on?"

THUD THUD THUD

"S-s-someone at the door..."

THUD THUD THUD

"Mae? Mae?! Are you still there!?"

THUD THUD THUD

"Wet some towels. We need to get rid of this blood if we're going to fix him."

"We have to get the blood out."

"I need help..."

"...calm your mind..."

"...weird nightmare..."

"...going to hurt yourself..."

"...trust you..."

"...trust me..."

"...sleep well, Mae-baby."

Mae blinked and promptly stepped all the way back to the wall. Bowie weaved in between her legs. The stranger before her; the man she had saved. A man whose blood had stained her hands not twelve hours before, a man who had ruined her rug and her sanity and her trust in Theo and her sister's trust in her and—

"—back it up, yeah?"

She blinked again, turning to look at Theo. "Sorry. I...my meds..." It felt like she was trying to read her thoughts through plastic wrap. "I...I need coffee."

Theo muttered something to her cousin — James, right? that's what she said his name was? — but Mae was already busy searching for caffeine to reawaken her mind. Bowie meowed loudly behind her, adding to the cacophony of confusion in a less than pleasant way.

"Give me a moment," she muttered to her cat, which of course he did not listen to. He brushed between her legs and tried to trip her on the way to the fridge. Mae cursed, cradling her large mug in her two hands. Drops of scalding coffee kissed her fingers. She wished she could just go back to bed.

"I'll take care of Bowie."

Mae smiled faintly at Theo, grateful when the burden of her extremely large cat left her walking path. She poured a small portion of milk into her mug, just enough to turn the concoction from black to slightly less, and raised it to her lips. Despite the steam billowing off of it, she gulped eagerly, bearing the burning on her tongue for the chance to clear her mind.

"Sorry," she finally said, when a quarter of her coffee was gone. "I didn't mean to be rude."

The stranger, which he was despite Theo's information dump, didn't look her way. Mae found that strange. She also thought him strange, though she didn't comment on it. Her father's clothes didn't fit him well. They clung to his obviously muscular chest and strained against his thighs. But it wasn't his ill-fitting t-shirt and slacks that bothered her. It was the also too-small hoodie, clinging to his arms — which were also huge, in a slightly terrifying way — and the accessories on his clenched fists.

Mae stared at the leather gloves covering the stranger's hands. They were thick and a little worn, and pulled over the seams of his hoodie sleeves, so not a glimpse of flesh could be seen underneath. In all her years, Mae could not think of a time when she had seen someone wear gloves, inside. Not like those, at least.

Perhaps he was a germaphobe, she mused wearily, sipping at her coffee. Had he worn them yesterday too? She couldn't really remember.

"Mr. Grumpy's fed," Theo said suddenly, making Mae flinch out of her thoughts. She had almost forgot about her roommate there, too lost in her suspicions on the stranger. "You okay, Mae-baby?"

"Better, with this," she muttered into her coffee. "Yes."

"Great! Then I suppose introductions are in order." She clapped her hands together. "James, meet my roommate and best friend, Madeleine Delacour. Don't let her snobby name fool you; Mae's a sweetheart. And a great cook! Much better than me, so be sure to get her to help ya out if you want something edible. Oh, and she was the one who saved your life yesterday, so...once again, all credit to her."

Mae flushed at the praise. But when she looked back at the stranger, her face promptly fell. He was just staring at her. Looking between greasy strands of dark hair, basically glaring her down. She felt like she was on trial — or, rather, like the witches of Salem, where one wrong word meant being burned at the stake.

"Hi," she whispered, grimacing when her voice came out as barely a squeak. "Nice to meet you."

The stranger said nothing back.

Theo cleared her throat. "I guess I'm still playing host. Uh, Mae, of course you know this is James, my cousin-in-law. Still family in my eyes, though! Um...you know, it's been so long I don't even know what you're into anymore. You wanna tell her a little bit about yourself, Jamesie?"

He remained as silent as the dead, staring daggers at Mae from across the kitchen.

"O...kay," Theo said, tapping her fingers like drumsticks against the counter. Mae didn't like the sound, it had always annoyed her; she supposed in the stress, that slipped her friend's mind. "So that's nice. Um...Mae, I ran out this morning and grabbed breakfast sandwiches, 'cause I totally forgot to grab groceries. Yours is in the microwave if you want it."

"Thanks."

She nodded with a determined glint in her eye. "I'm going to go change James' bandages. You okay out here? I'll be back in a few to plan out groceries."

Mae knew that she was probably going to do what Theo did best, which were her 'Mom' lectures, and yell at the stranger for his lack of manners. She didn't really have it in her heart to tell Theo that she didn't even want to talk to the stranger. Being in the same room, fixed under that relentless, hollow glare, that was enough to tell Mae she had no interest in being around Theo's peculiar cousin in law.

Or...ex, cousin-in-law.

Extended families sounded stressful. Mae was glad she didn't have to worry about that shit, with just four names to account for the Delacour 'legacy'. She didn't have to fret over some cousin or aunt twice, three times removed landing half-dead on their front porch, at least. And she'd never have to worry about the other three Delacour's, because her sister and parents were far too practical to ever get into anything vaguely messy.

So, Mae wondered wearily, what would they think of her now?

A soft buzz vibrated against Mae's hip. She pulled her phone out, barely glancing at the number on the screen, not registering familiarity before lifting it to her ear. She swallowed her gulp of bitter coffee and hummed, "hello?"

"Madeleine?"

She paused. Something sour sat on her tongue. "Mother?"

Elizabeth Delacour's voice could be recognized in any circumstance, regardless of anything. There was nothing like the sound of it. If her daughter Abigail was cold, the Delacour matriarch's voice was the Arctic Circle. Absolutely frigid and commanding. Mae had always had a respectful fear of her mother, like she imagined most did: but nothing was more alarming than hearing her speak so early in the morning.

"Madeleine. Are you alright?"

"What? O-of course."

"Do not say 'of course,' after you left us all in terror for your state. Foolish child, did you not think to think about us?!"

"What...are you talking about, Mother?"

On the other line came a sharp tsk, a clicking tongue that served steel with every word. "To hear you a blathering mess, apparently refusing your meds, hallucinating war fantasies the other night?! I have not slept a wink after your strange phone call. I only spared you until this morning because I knew you needed sleep, and though I don't trust that Theona—"

"—it wasn't her fault," she interrupted almost automatically, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It was mine. I..." what lie had they told? And what was the right one to feed the next morning? "I was stressed. I was worried the meds were going to have a negative effect. I-I read a study, it freaked me out. You know how I get."

"Madeleine, when you called me, it sounded like you were about to die."

"I was running on very little sleep, Mother. You know how that gets me."

"I know, and it shouldn't be that way. But clearly, you've been hiding something from us, and from Dr. Crane, and that's just not the way we're going to do things."

The dull pounding from behind her brows got heavier, and her face scrunched more, trying to find and pinch the rogue nerve suffering behind her skin. "I promise you, I'm okay. I just needed some sleep."

"I..." Her mother paused, a strange sort of silence falling on the other side of the line. Then, she spoke again, but it was much softer. Colder, though Mae hadn't thought such a phenomenon possible. "Are you alone right now?"

"I—" Mae's brows furrowed. What she had been about to say fizzled on her lips, forgotten in an instant. "Are you alright, Mother?"

"Yes. Answer my question, please."

"Um..." she looked around. No one but Bowie was around, and his head was too lost in his food bowl to care about the austere matriarch on the other end. She glanced down the hall. The stranger's door was a sliver open, but it was far enough away to be, yes, considered alone. "I-I am. Yes."

"Okay. Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully."

Something about her mother's tone made her anxious; more anxious than such a powerful woman usually did. Still, Mae nodded dutifully, even if she couldn't see the motion. "Okay. I'm listening. Whatever you have to say, just tell me please. You're worrying me."

"I just want you to take a deep breath, Madeleine."

Her heart jackrabbited. Her mind raced to a million possibilities. A million tragedies. 

But a little voice in the back of her head sang, too. It told her to trust her mother, that she would never steer her wrong. And like a child scared of the dark, Mae latched onto that comforting promise and let it lead her forward.

"Okay."

"I want you to search your mind, Madeleine."

A strange chill fluttered up Mae's spine, like the fingers of a Victorian ghost had come to feel each bone, wistfully remembering when they had such things, too. The little voice still promised to lead her forward, that she was okay, but something tore at her. Something dark. Something...

"Search your mind, Madeleine. You know what is best."

Her breath hitched. "I...I do?"

"Yes, you do." Mother sounded pleased. Mae wanted her to sound pleased. She wanted to please Mother. Didn't she?

Did she?

"You know what is best. And what is best, is—"

—but Mae would never hear the next word. It got lost in the sound of something horrible; something like shattering glass. She whirled around, phone slipping from her hand, to stare at the wicked mess that had spread behind her.

When Theo had come back into the room, she couldn't say. She hadn't heard her come in at all, nor had she heard her grab a glass, or the faucet running to fill her cup full. The only sound she had caught was from a small mistake on poor Theo's part, a clumsy slip of usually capable fingers sending the cup of very full water careening to the ground. 

A thousand shards of glass scattered across the kitchen. And around it, the hardwood floors glistened, water quickly spreading over the wood like racing men eager to reach the other side, whatever the other side promised. Something cold and wet tickled the bottom of Mae's ankles, and she looked down to see the water had gotten her, too. It had already licked up her socks in her reverie, and her ankles were then wet, too.

"I-I'm so sorry," Theo spluttered, sounding much more upset than someone should be over a simple glass of water. She fell to her knees amongst the fragments of glass and threw off her sweater, using it to start sopping up the escaping droplets. "I didn't mean to do that! God, I'm so sorry, Mae-baby — oh, move your phone before it gets wet!"

She blinked and looked down. The device was sitting by her soaked ankles, seconds ticking up with a call she had neglected. Something tinny echoed from it but from so far below, she couldn't hear a word her mother said. 

Like in slow motion, Mae bent and picked up her phone. She stared at it for a moment; something felt so strange, looking at it. Like she was looking at it through the eyes of another. A Truman Show moment, or maybe something more sinister.

Then she blinked, and her mind snapped back to normal.

"Sorry, Mother," she said softly. "I didn't mean to cut you off. Theo dropped a glass."

"Oh." The single syllable was deafening.

"Sorry," Mae said again, like it was her fault. "I didn't mean to cut you off."

"We'll discuss this another time, Madeleine. I...realise that there are extraneous circumstances I had not considered properly."

"Oh. I — I'm sorry, I can just go into another room. We can keep talking, Mother."

"I have plans anyways, and I would rather not run late."

"I'm...sorry," slipped from her lips for the fourth time in a row. She was beginning to feel like a robot, repeating the same phrase over and over, hoping she got it right that time. "I hope everything is alright with us?"

"Trust me, Madeleine." Her mother's tone was finite. "You are not the vexing component. We will continue our conversation later. Please, take care of yourself until then."

"I — yes, Mother."

"If you need emergency help, Abigail is always available."

Mae frowned, not because she didn't know this, but because it sounded like she was in a warzone, and not just living with a clumsy roommate. "I'm really okay. You don't have to worry about me."

"What a funny thing to say, Madeleine." And it really did sound like there was a laugh, tickling at the crest of her mother's throat, threatening to leak out as it so rarely did. "Goodbye now."

"Good...bye," she mumbled, and kept the phone raised to ear for several seconds after the call clicked off.

"Your mom okay?"

"Hm?" Mae glanced up to meet Theo's eyes, shimmering with concern. "Uh — she's fine, yes. She had to go, had...plans, or something."

Theo nodded sagely. "Sorry about the glass, by the way. I really need to work on my ability to do simple tasks, right? Like, damn...ha."

Something about that felt weird to her, and she didn't know why. But...well, she knew Theo was sometimes like that, too lost in her head to do simple things. The first time they had met was because she had literally run right into her, head so high in the clouds she couldn't mind her own two feet. But the actions of last night were nothing but calm and calculated and skilled, no bumbling sweetheart-ness left in the woman. And...

Mae shook her head. She couldn't look so deeply into the little things; it'd only make her go mad. "I'm going to change my socks," she told her roommate calmly, "and then I'm going to get some work done."

"Okay. Uh — wait."

She paused in the doorway, half turned around. "Yes?"

In the corner of her eye, she could see Theo fidgeting with the cloth in her hands. "I just want to apologise for James. He's not a people person. And, like, there's a lot of stuff he should probably work through, not that I'll divulge that for ya, don't wanna bore you back to sleep but still, he's—"

"—it's fine," she promised her, even though it really didn't feel like it was. "I understand. I'm a stranger."

"Right," Theo said, in an odd tone. She cleared her throat. "Just, like, don't be afraid. The guy's harmless. Uh — usually. Ha."

And honestly, while it was tempting to unpack whatever the hell that 'usually' meant, Mae just didn't want to. It was way too early and she was way too caffeine deprived to have the energy for that. There was already enough drama from the last twenty-four hours; she'd spare herself a second dose.

"I'll be right back," she said simply, and turned away before her roommate could continue on.

Mae didn't bother looking at the closed guest bedroom door as she passed it. She knew it would only pique her interest, and she didn't have time for that. No, she told herself, she had things to do. A schedule to stick with, and one she was already behind on. Foolish me, she thought, rifling through her sock drawer for a dry pair.

She mentally gathered her tasks, running through her next steps. She had to finish marking, because of course that was interrupted. That should have been done, but she'd let it slide in the case of the weird 'emergency'. Then there was groceries, which she'd need Theo for...hopefully the stranger wasn't going to interfere with that, because they were really out of everything edible. 

Her room could stand a clean too, she mused to herself, surveying the space. It wasn't dirty per se, but it had been a long moment since she had wiped it down. It would be a good excuse to stay by herself, too, and limit strange interactions. Mae slotted that into her mental calendar, along with vacuuming and finalising her tenth grade class' unit tests. Also, she had to map out her weekly schedule, and organizing her wardrobe according to the weather, which was supposed to be quite nice, but—

—something tickled her thoughts. Something familiar and dark, coaxing her down a spinning mental hall. Her research.

God, how could she forget the way her brain had so manically forced her into that hurricane? That had been everything, maybe forty eight hours before. And it still was, even if some stranger was haunting her guest room and her kitchen with sad, hollow eyes.

She knelt down, slipping her bag out from where it peeked under her bed. She didn't remember shoving it there — some after effect of the sleeping pills, or just residue from the shit night. Mae leaned back on her haunches and rifled through her workbag, pulling out the folder of papers and pictures and scribbled nonsense, a case file she had only started a day or so ago.

But was somehow growing like a Russian classic. Tolstoy would be jealous. 

Mae sighed to herself, staring at the folder in her hands. At least this file, that she could control. She wasn't going to lose it to the slips of her lost mind. And at least she could solve that mystery, even if it took everything from her.

She flipped it open and slid out the first paper that had started it all. A black and white image of America's golden boy stared up at her, faded because of their printer and it's age.

"At least this, I can solve," she muttered down to his face, silently wishing she could wipe the smile straight off. "I'll do it, Steven Rogers. I'll unravel you."

Whatever her brain thought Captain America was hiding. She'd find it, somehow. Because...truthfully, she wasn't sure she could survive, having so many secrets, so out of reach. At least something like the secret behind his soldier smile felt attainable.

Mae pursed her lips. She had a lot of work ahead of her.

PHOBOS: a minor god and the personification of fear and panic, often described as the reason for disorder and chaos caused in battle. He was the son of Ares and Aphrodite, and twin brother of Deimos. He does not have a minor role in Greek mythology, but was recognised in Greek life as one of the hands of fear people would feel, as his war-loving father's attendant and his brother's other half, both wielding terror and fear. He was sometimes described as having a lion's head, and often with large, gnashing white teeth and mouth wide open.

So...we've got James...and a mother...and Steve at the end. Chock ful of plot in this chapter, haha.

Thank you for reading; let me know what you thought!