Let Me Come Home ■ Metalocalypse

Phantom Limb

Abigail sipped her third cup of coffee of the day. The night terrors she suffered were relentless. Nathan was good in the beginning. He would hold her tightly and sooth her with reassurances that she was safe. Toki was safe. Magnus was six feet under and he couldn't hurt her anymore. By month four he became burnt out. She couldn't blame him. He wasn't equipped to handle his own trauma, let alone hers. At month six she decided to end things.

"I need to focus on myself, Nathan. I need to get better"

"Abby, you can get better with me! I love you!"

"I love you too. Which is why I want to get healthy. You deserve someone healthy"

She assured him it was only until she could better manage herself. He promised her he would wait, though she didn't expect him to. At month eight she was still suffering the after effects and didn't see an end to them any time soon.

"Murderface and Skwisgaar are going to be in Jersey until Thursday. I'll be leaving to join them tonight. In the meantime, I'm leaving Abigail in charge" Charles glanced towards the exhausted producer. She perked up at the sound of her name.

"Huh?"

"You're in charge while I'm gone"

"Oh" she didn't have the energy to manage three man children, but it was only for a couple of days. The worst would be extended exposure to Nathan who made it no secret how awful the break up had been on him.

"Why're you going to Jersey?" Pickles was, surprisingly, the only one paying attention.

"Well, Pickles, that question actually brings me to my next topic. It seems that, uh, Murderface's cousin Delilah is having a hard time after her husband's passing. Murderface and Skwisgaar both think it might be a good idea for her to come stay with us for a while. You know, get, uh, get away, different atmosphere and such"

Nathan raised an eyebrow. He always liked Delilah. He genuinely enjoyed her company, as did Pickles. He glanced at Toki, who was growing jealous of the attention Skwisgaar was giving to the recent widow. When Toki came home he clung to Skwisgaar like a security blanket. He would sleep with him almost every night, he began practicing scales with him, and he would stick as close to him as he could. He shared a knowing glance with Pickles who also noticed.

"Whys does she needs to comes heres?" Toki asked bitterly. Charles looked at him sympathetically.

"She just went through something really hard, Toki. Surely, you can understand that?" The Norwegian stood up suddenly and stormed out.

"I'll go talk to him" Abigail offered.

"No, I'll go" Nathan countered. She rolled her eyes.

"Nathan, I really think I should talk to him. I understand what he's going through"

"And I don't?" He argued.

"No, I really don't think you do" Abigail replied.

"You don't know what I do and don't know!" He shouted.

"I can go talk to him" Pickles chimed in. Charles gave him a stern look and shook his head.

"Don't yell at me, Nathan!" Abigail felt her voice getting louder.

"I'm not yelling at you! I just want to go talk to Toki!" Abigail gripped her coffee mug tight.

'Don't get triggered. Don't get triggered' she pleaded with herself.

"Fine. Go talk to him, I don't fucking care. I gotta go" she darted out of the conference room, collapsing into the hallway. She took a couple deep breaths and composed herself.

"Abby, ams yous okays?" Toki was in the hallway too. He had been crying.

"It got loud in there" she said in a shaky voice. "Are you okay?" He brought his knees closer into his chest.

"He's goings to picks her"

Nathan's attempted talk with Toki fell flat. "So what if he picks her? She's hot, she's into two guys at once, don't, don't ask me how I know that. Actually I don't know that at all. Forget I said anything"

"I don'ts cares, Nat'ens. Theys beens fuckings for what's ams what's? Likes tens years? There's feelings theres"

"Maybe?" Nathan shrugged. "Well, uh, good talk. Bye"

"Nat'ens, waits.." Toki hesitated. "Does yous, does yous miss Abigail likes Toki misses Skwisgaar?"

"Skwisgaar's coming back to you Toki" Nathan left the Nord to be alone and stew. He had some stewing of his own to do. He plopped down on the living room couch, next to Pickles. "God damn, this is brutal"

"Tell me about it" Pickles said over his Scotch. He kept his eyes fixed on the television broadcasting the last Coachella The Delancos had ever played "Chris was such a good dood. That poor girl" he passed the bottle to Nathan who took a large swig.

"I asked her how it felt at the funeral. She said it was like phantom limb. She could still feel him." Just like he could still feel Abigail.