To Be at Peace with Yourself

Chapter 20: Memory

The kid shot off the bed before anyone could blink, wildly launching a series of bone attacks toward the stranger in the process. 

The old skeleton leaned slightly, effortlessly dodging the haphazard attacks that embedded themselves in the wall behind him. Turning to the bones, he examined them with a dispassionate expression as they vanished.

They're strong but crudely made. No polish to them.

Palette was over the bed in an instant, hugging the startled skeleton and muttering reassurances that the cloaked monster only caught bits of. Things like 'safe', 'friend', and 'helping'. 

All the while, the kid was shooting him a nasty glare full of defiance... the expression looked just like-

No. I won't entertain the thought. I need to nip this in the bud. Now.

Moving around the bed, he came up behind the pair, "So, kid... who's your parents?" 

The kid's face flipped from anger to surprise at the question. He turned to Palette, asking quietly, "What's parents?" 

The kid doesn't know what parents are?

"Parents are people who love you and take care of you, providing you with everything you need," Palette replied in an equally soft voice.

The kid took on a thoughtful look, then said to Palette, "So you're my parents?"

The older skeleton placed his skull in his palm as the boy sputtered, blushing brightly and clearing his throat before saying "Um... no. Parents are two people, usually a mom and a dad, that made you. They make up a family."

"Oh," the small skeleton replied, thinking over the description, "Two people that made you... that love you and take care of you... a family..."

"I...," The kid's expression fell, tears beginning to line the edges of his sockets, "I don't think I have parents. Is... is that bad?" 

Palette pulled him closer, rubbing his back and stifling small sniffles with his shoulder, "It's not bad, and you have parents somewhere. You just haven't found them yet."

"Where were you living for the past twelve years?" the old skeleton continued relentlessly. 

This'll be the undeniable proof that this kid isn't-

"A lab," Palette answered for him, his expression darkening, "From what Goth told me, he's lived in a lab for as long as he can remember being experimented on by those... those beasts." 

The last word was spat with venomous anger. The smaller in his arms hiccuped as he nodded in confirmation.

It's all a coincidence... just... 

"Where'd you get the scarf?" the ex-hunter asked quietly.

I refuse to believe it... I can't.

The kid took a shaky breath, words muffled by his companion's shirt, "I... I don't know... I've h... had it for... as lo... long as I... can remember... hurts to... to think t... too hard on it..."

... it can't be... 

"Let me see your soul."

Both young skeletons jolted at the request. This time, it was Palette's turn to glare, shielding the small skeleton that was quaking in his grasp from the cloaked monster.

Wrong thing to say, huh? Still... 

"I might actually know who you are," The old monster stepped forward as he pleaded, "I need to be sure... please, let me check."

Palette opened his mouth, only for the kid to squirm in his grasp. Slowly, he pulled out of their grip, their eye light locked on the old skeleton.

Wiping his face, he hesitantly rose and walked up to the adult. The kid scrutinized them for a solid minute, his uncertainty clear in his expression. Palette stood as well, joining the smaller skeleton. 

Suddenly, something changed in the kid's expression and he placed his hand on his chest, drawing out a tiny inverted heart and presenting it warily.

Palette held his breath as the older monster took the soul reverently, letting his magic surround the fragile object. 

For a minute nothing happened...  until tears began to slowly roll down the small skeleton's cheeks. Palette tensed, intent on retrieving the soul... but he stopped when he noticed confusion in his friend's expression rather than fear or pain.

The older skeleton was now openly crying, reaching toward his own chest to pull forth a larger soul. Placing it next to the smaller one, their beats seemed to synchronize as they responded to each other, calling out to one another with a familiarity the older skeleton feared he'd never feel again. 

It is him.

"Oh stars," the adult choked, returning the souls to their respective owners, "I... I never imagined..." He fell silent as his emotions quickly overwhelmed him.

"Who are you?" the kid... Goth whispered, his hand rubbing at his sternum. Palette was thoroughly perplexed, his gaze darting between both skeletons.

The cloaked monster kneeled down, placing his hands on Goth's shoulders as a wide grin spread across his face, "My name's Reaper... for twelve years, I thought I'd lost you. After so long... Goth... my son, you've finally come back to me."

"What?!" Palette blurted out.

Rather than elation, Goth's face maintained confusion, "Son? Like the glowing thing in the sky?"

Reaper let out an amused puff of air, rethinking his words, "Alright, let me put it this way kiddo: turns out you do have parents. I'm one of them, your dad. That make things easier to understand?"

The smaller's mouth open and shut repeatedly, seemingly at a loss for what to say. 

"I have parents...," Goth finally murmured, his gaze catching on the dresser behind Reaper... on the white jacket laying in the center, "A dad and a mo-"

The small skeleton hissed, his sockets clenching as his body pitched forward. Reaper caught him as Palette hovered over them. 

"What's wrong, what's happening to him!?" the young monster cried as Goth clutched his skull, gasping and releasing a high-pitched whine in the process.

"He's probably remembering," Reaper responded, cradling his son's skull under his chin as he swayed back and forth, rubbing soothingly up and down his spine, "When I lost Goth twelve years ago, the only thing left behind was this destroyed cabin and a pile of dust belonging to his mother. He probably repressed his memories of the event to protect himself..."

"...or those bastards brainwashed him into forgetting," he added, his eye light taking on a murderous gleam. 

Before he could act on his emotions, Palette interrupted, asking, "How can we help Goth?"

"Try to make him as comfortable a possible until this passes," the old skeleton replied. 

Standing up carefully, he shuffled over to the bed and laid his whimpering son onto his side. He pulled up one of the still intact chairs and sat down beside his son, continuing to rub their spine as Palette moved to the other side of the bed, sitting by his friend's head.

Eventually, Goth's breathing evened out and he fell into a fitful sleep. 

Reaper never took his eye lights off his sleeping son as he said, "For now, Goth needs to recover from that memory overload. Once he wakes up, we can take it from there."