Chapter Text
It begins with a young Prospitian on your doorstep.
They were distraught. Terrified. Begging their Lord Page for help. And you aren’t good with other people’s emotions, you never have been, but damn it all, you would have to be heartless not to let them in.
So you went downstairs and opened the door, and they stumbled into your entryway, sobbing.
You are alone with your visitor. Jade is out, doing something or other that’s probably important - you text her repeatedly, asking for her to come back to the house whenever she can. You do your best, offering your unexpected guest some hot tea, and they shakily take it, their thanks far more profuse than you feel comfortable with.
You try to ask them what they need help with, and this just prompts more crying. You hesitantly reach out to pat their shoulder, and they flinch. (Is it bad that this makes you feel relieved, not being obligated to touch them?)
The youth is probably around fifteen or sixteen, you guess - you’re not very good with carapacian ages, except that this one clearly isn’t an adult yet, and from their slender build, is probably of the rank they call a ‘knight,’ not that you really understand what that means aside from their generally more human-like proportions compared to other carapacians. You can tell they’re not male or female, but you can’t recall the names of the other two sexes right now.
They eventually stammer out that they need the hospital, but they’re afraid to go by themself - they don’t want their parents to find out, and everyone who attends the Shrine of Hope wouldn’t keep it a secret.
The uncomfortable mention of them as your devotee aside, you don’t know a lot about family structures - and even less about carapacian family structures. But you know when something like that sounds wrong.
They won’t share their name or initials. They don’t trust any of their family members. They claim their friends at school wouldn’t understand. They remain tight-lipped about everything else, and you decide against asking more than once.
So you drive them to the hospital.
They hover anxiously at your elbow as you try to check them in. You’ve never had to do anything like this, you’re sweaty and uncomfortable and crikey all the carapacians in the waiting room are staring at you and whispering -
When Jane walks by, notices you, and comes over to help streamline the process, you’re almost relieved.
The teenager is not. They edge away from Jane, trying to keep other people between her and them at all times. You’re not good with facial expressions, just like you aren’t good with other people’s feelings, but you can tell Jane is hurt - at first. When she gets her first clear look at them, her eyes widen in surprise and worry, and she starts to maintain distance of her own accord. How very odd.
They refuse to see a ‘refined’ doctor, only relaxing when they’re told that they can see a fellow ‘commoner.’ The doctor, a Dersite rook(? They’re short, only coming up to your chest, but not as tiny as most pawns), offers to allow you in as their trusted adult, but they decline, seemingly feeling safe at long last.
You wait outside the exam room, and Jane slides onto the bench next to you.
You cough. “So. Erm. I reckon you can tell what’s going on?”
She bites her lip. “They’re gravid,” she says softly.
You wrack your brains for the meaning of the word - “Oh!” You suppose you can see a teen being afraid of their parents finding out they’re pregnant. “They’re, eh, awfully young.”
“Yes.”
Jane is - well, brooding seems to fit, in both senses of the word. She’s glaring into space and tapping her foot, brows drawn in more of a worried way than angry (or you think so, anyway).
You have a sinking feeling that at the very least, she has some reason to suspect that the father might not be the same age as the young alate (right, that’s the word! The ones that reproduce both ways) in the exam room. And if they don’t want the child, that explains why they wanted to stay away from Jane. You’re not sure if that’s how her powers work, but better safe than sorry, you suppose.
The doctor comes out, closing the door behind them. Their dark face is grave, and they look sternly at Jane. “We can’t let them go home. They need somewhere else.”
Jane sighs, and rises. “I’ll call social services - though goodness knows they’re not as equipped as they need to be, to deal with things like this,” she mutters.
From what you’ve heard on the news (you have little else to do with your time, most days), this has been a bone of contention for some time. There’s too many people in this city, and not enough structures in place to handle all of the problems that naturally crop up - like domestic abuse and such. You’re obviously not well-versed in anything involving other people, but you do feel a certain amount of sympathy for the poor sods who are overwhelmed at their jobs. You’ve heard from a few of your more civically-involved friends that there’s been some success in many areas with organized volunteer operations, but there simply hasn’t been a lot of time for the ones in place to grow big enough.
Not to mention many citizens are too busy with their own lives to spend a large portion of their time devoted to such arduous causes. There’s not enough resources devoted to those organizations to allow volunteers to make less intense commitments. Not enough power behind them. Conviction is easy to lose when you see so few results from your efforts, and lost conviction can invite despair.
You feel a strange charge of... intention, of Hope, and for a moment, you’re not sure where it’s coming from - and then you realize it’s coming from you.
You’re not sure what you could possibly provide to such an endeavor, how you might contribute. But you know that you can do something. Those working to fix things can’t afford to lose heart; something must be done about situations like this. Children like the one in the exam room need places to go, places that they know will be safe, and sure, you might not be able to do it alone, but here is finally something that could use up some of that desperate unrest, that feeling of being useless that continually plagues you.
It’s probably too much to hope that it might fix everything wrong with you, but if you can just do one good thing -
You pull Jane aside afterwards, and she listens to your proposal with a raised eyebrow. She’s skeptical. But that hard-to-find spark in you is there - you have a clear sight of it, and you struggle not to let it go or grip it too tight -
Slowly, but surely, as you keep talking, the Hope kindles into a flame. You don’t let it grow too big, or it’ll burn itself out and leave you with nothing. If you can keep it small without smothering it -
Well. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? All the Hopes you’ve managed to sustain before have been short-term, powered not by your own will but by the certainty of your trust, by time loops and others’ prophetic visions. Maybe, just maybe, you can do it without the training wheels.
That’s the thing about Hope, the thing you wish you could tell your younger self. It’s not easy. It’s not really about believing in something, or having faith in yourself, or wanting something badly enough, or even just making things happen. It is all of those things, yes - but you couldn’t possibly begin to explain the unconscious complexities of your aspect you simply can’t find words for, the things you have come to know without knowing. Perhaps your class is to blame there.
Jane agrees to help. She understands your vision, but doubts your ability. All your friends tend to - after all, you often disappoint them.
But here’s something about things that happen often: you get used to them, more and more. And if you’re lucky, as time goes by, they start to bother you less and less.
~
Jade, when you hear back from her, is annoyed, having rushed home only to find it empty, and you not answering any of her calls until she’d worked herself into a tizzy. You apologize, and she seems to accept it - though as always, you find yourself wondering if you did it right or flubbed it without knowing again.
A few days pass. There are emails sent back and forth, your signature stamped in the right places. You flounder over video calls, and struggle during meetings, ending up letting Jane do most of the talking, much to your embarrassment.
You’re not comfortable with other people. You don’t understand them, and you struggle to visualize them outside of any context with you in it. That’s something you doubt will ever change about you, unfortunately. You try to bear it in mind, knowing it’s a flaw, but you don’t always succeed.
One day, Jane tells you bluntly that she feels like she’s organizing this all by herself, and you feel a tad helpless and guilty.
A neutral, unbiased opinion is very valuable to you, and anonymous support groups are happy to provide that - a stellar example of organized volunteer work in action.
~
[NM_Nine]: So, what’s the consensus? Am I a narcissist?
[HP_Three]: no
[HP_Three]: just very socially inept
[HP_Three]: inexperienced maybe
[SF_Four]: Have you ever spoken to a psychiatrist? I know it’s hard to get ahold of one, but you should at least consider it if a personality disorder is something you’re this worried about.
[SF_Four]: You can’t exactly get a reliable diagnosis from strangers online.
[Ace_XH]: u mmmmmmight? have some elements of it?? i agree with SF that u shouldnt be relying on us for that
[Ace_XH]: i think ur family prbbly knows u mean well but i can see how theyd find some of ur behavior annoying
[Ace_XH]: so ur a lil self absorbed but it doesnt seem like. debilitating
[Ace_XH]: lacking in empathy isnt the end of the world u just have to be aware and make up for it wherever u can
[NM_Nine]: It does rather feel like it could be the end of the world sometimes!
[HP_Three]: you just have to make an effort to look past your instinctive obliviousness and try to engage with people
[NM_Nine]: I have trouble telling when I’m stepping on someone’s toes, in that case. I’m told I have difficulty with boundaries, both setting them and seeing them!
[Ace_XH]: well, u know that abt urself at least! just try to do better, and remember to apologize when u realize u’ve done wrong!
~
You don’t know what the devil you’re supposed to be doing. It would make things much simpler if she could just tell you, but neither of you want that. It brings up unpleasant feelings for you, and probably her as well. You want to work together.
You just wish the flame of Hope did more than just burn with a desire, that it could help illuminate the way, tell you what needs to be done.
But that isn’t the nature of Hope. Hope isn’t like Light, it doesn’t show you the truth, doesn’t help things fall into your lap just-so. Hope isn’t like Breath, giving you the strength to go on and bolstering you with confidence. Hope isn’t like Doom, guaranteeing a definite result with ironclad certainty, no matter what happens.
Hope is powerful. You’ve seen it firsthand. But it’s powerful the same way a whispered argument is powerful, the same way a lost young man is when he trusts his friends not to lead him astray, the same way a scared child is when they ask a stranger for help. It is not loud. It is not bombastic. It is not brash or bold or courageous. It is not all the things you would like to be. Hope is not the aspect of an adventurer or a hero. But it is strong.
Hope does not help. It’s only the start. You often wish you had realized this much sooner.
But if it can last? If you can keep it alive? If a dream becomes a goal, and a goal becomes reality? That’s where magic can happen. You’ve seen it. You know it. It’s never happened by your own design - but it can.
And that Hope ignites, joining the first.
You resist the urge to cover your shame by telling Jane to just leave it to you and you’ll figure it out, trying to bluster your way through it on your own. Instead, you try to listen. You start writing things down, asking questions, until you figure out what she needs from you, because if you just ask what she wants from you it will turn into a fight, and you don’t want that. You don’t understand why it has to be like that, but you try. You work.
You settle on your role, being the main public face of the charity, performing most of the community outreach, your name and endorsement drawing needed attention - though of course two gods are better than one. Jane is already well-known for her work at the hospital, and already understands the basics of how an organization should be run. The two of you are both still working on understanding the funding and non-profit aspect, pooling your resources until the organization can be sustained on donations. Bake sales and block parties seem to work quite well.
You end up taking the lead, surprising both yourself and Jane. She runs the schedule and sets the goalposts, helps you remember the big, practical things that don’t occur to you, but it’s you who requisitions the properties for the shelters, who films the public service announcements, who listens to the suggestions of other councilmembers. It’s you who makes the choices of where to go next, who calculates the logistics and makes risk assessments. You are slowly becoming more than just a dreamer.
To aid your shared endeavor, the two of you start delving into research on social statistics, learning about the history of arranged marriages, the complexities of carapacian sexism, the dynamics between clones and the natural-born, the class system based in military rank, the way some conservative guardians view their adopted troll and human children as more of a sacred duty than part of their family -
In some ways, it’s easier for you to generalize people. To put together numbers in groups, like the stress points in a machine. To think of the bigger picture, even though these are all people just like you. It suits you better than trying to help on a personal level, you think. Is that bad?
It’s been a long time, since you hung out regularly with just you and Jane like this. Not since the Game. Not since before -
You don’t like thinking about it. If you don’t think too hard about it, it’s pleasant, being friends with Jane. Not that you ever stopped being friends - it’s just -
You don’t like thinking about it, so you don’t. Is that bad? To want to put the past behind you, where it belongs?
When the two of you sit together to go over funding and publicity, talk to Sollux over the phone about designing a website, or even just - chatting about nothing, making small talk, it feels almost like being with Jade. Except it isn’t, it’s Jane, but -
You don’t like thinking about the things she did to you, seven years ago. Things so far in the past, things that are hard to forget. The things she’s apologized for, over and over - the things you’ve forgiven her for, over and over, until she stopped begging for forgiveness.
You didn’t stop forgiving her, though. Like Hope, forgiveness is a thing you need to maintain.
When the two of you sit together, it’s easy enough to put out of your mind. There is usually something else to focus on, work that needs to be done. It’s in the quiet moments, when you aren’t talking, when you sit too close together, that it becomes dangerous, that your forgiveness flickers like a candle in the wind, that you remember-
And you try to replace that memory with the knowledge that she hated herself for it. That she still hates herself for it. She has never said that she does - not to you. But Dirk and Roxy are a little less tight-lipped about it, and are generally quicker to reprimand you. You’re grateful to them for that, as annoying as it can be, because without that perspective, you wouldn’t know that you’re not alone.
Is it bad, that you feel comforted by that? That you’re happy that you’re not the only one still scarred from the things that a younger Jane did in her altered state?
~
Just like you ended up coming to visit Jane at the hospital, she ends up coming to visit you at the Shrine of Hope.
You go more often than you used to. Needing to establish the presence of the Crocker-English shelters has changed things a little - you are no more comfortable with the reverence they pay you than you were before, but the shrine volunteers are a little more used to you now. You’ve spoken about the charity and the values you hold, and they are listening. Slowly but surely, you’re gaining momentum, and the fire of this small Hope you hold will have fuel for some time. You’ll keep your goals realistic, and ration it carefully - leave the experimentation for other sparks of opportunity that will surely come along your path.
You’re speaking with one of the volunteers, when she enters the pavilion.
Their use-name escapes you at the moment, but they’re telling you about how the atmosphere of the shrine has changed since you started all this - how the usual speakers were once all about tough love and enduring silently through hard times, having faith that things would turn out all right. It’s become more popular to talk about fighting for change, making your dreams a reality, and being strong for those who cannot be strong for themselves.
You’re even more glad you’ve started this. That you’ve helped others start to understand what Hope really means.
Jane slowly approaches, and they stop talking with an abrupt squeak.
“Hi, um. Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt -”
“Oh, erm, it’s no trouble at all Lady Maid I’ll just -” And they rapidly slip away before either of you can tell them they don’t have to. You both sigh in tandem.
“One of these days they’ll get it,” you say, shaking your head. “Anyhow, what brings you here on this fine day, Jane?”
She bites her lip. “I just - wanted a second to speak to you about something. In private. No rush. I was in the area, and I didn’t feel like... Well it didn’t feel right saying it over Pesterchum. When do you think you’ll be done here?”
This immediately makes you very, very nervous.
“Well, erm. In an hour or so. We could - catch lunch? Would that be alright?” You’re starting to sweat. There’s no reason to sweat - why do you have to be nervous? Why?
Jane smiles in relief. “That sounds just about right. I’ll, um. I can get us a table at that Dersite bistro, around the corner? I’ll wait for you there. I’ll - I’ll see you.” And now she is the one who slips off.
God on high, you hope this isn’t some way of tricking you into a date - No! Shut your mouth, cruel thoughts! She surely wouldn’t do that to you! She wouldn’t!
Would she?
~
The Dersite bistro is a quiet, out of the way place, the air inside drenched in incense and coffee. The booths are enclosed by bead curtains, but the server helpfully leads you straight to where Jane is waiting.
You have a lump in your throat as you sit down. Jane perks up, smiling. You adjust your glasses. Water is set out for you both.
“Well, now, erm. What did you want to talk about?”
Jane takes a deep breath. “It’s - well. To start with, I’m proud of you. And I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m surprised. I’m sorry, and I should have believed in you more. I...” she hesitates. “I’m - grateful. And that might not - it might seem a little out of the blue, but I’ve been feeling - well,” and she huffs a little laugh, "hopeless, about the state of things.
“Like we - the gods - failed, or are failing. Like it’s all going rotten, even this early. I see so many terrible things that people do to each other, every day, and it feels like every injury or illness I heal is just replaced by two more, even worse than the last. Like society as a whole just keeps getting more and more cruel no matter what I do. And - I don’t know - doing this project with you, the charity, it’s... Easier to see that things are fixable. That our mistakes don’t have to be catastrophic. We’re doing good here, and this doesn’t - it doesn’t always backfire on us, or come at some terrible cost. It’s still hard, but that just takes work, it’s not a bad price to pay.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is - I needed this. I needed this, and I didn’t know it was what I needed until we started getting results. It’s easier to remember that what I do does make a difference. That I am helping people, even if I don’t always get to see how their lives improve. So -” and she raises her glass, blinking tears out of her eyes with a weak smile. “Thank you, Jake. For making my world a little brighter.”
The lump in your throat has grown, but a smile is spreading across your face.
All this time, she was feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, the terrifying stakes of the Game haunting her more than you thought. You’re glad that you did something that helped, even if it was by accident, even if you were ignorant to her struggles. You feel like an ass for having kept yourself so far away from your friend for so long.
You reach out across the table, and clasp her hand in yours. It’s the first time you’ve actually touched her of your own accord in seven years, beyond bumping next to her in passing or grazing limbs when sitting next to each other. It’s warm - it doesn’t tingle, or make you want to pull away. Her hand is wider and softer than Jade’s, but reminds you of her all the same. “And you are very welcome, Jane. I know I’m far from the best at providing any kind of support, but if you ever want to talk -”
She sets her glass down. She doesn’t meet your eyes. “Thank you,” she says, but it’s more hollow this time. Something about her voice is - brittle.
Jane pulls her hand away and meets your eyes again with a warm smile. You’re confused, and a little hurt - but then you realize: in seven years, she has never reached out to touch you, either. A wave of guilt washes over you.
“I’m sorry if I -”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jane says firmly. “Nothing.”
The bead curtains part as the server enters to take your order, and the both of you realize, with some laughter, that you completely forgot to look at the menu. You order a couple of appetizers while you start deciding in earnest.
Your lunch date with Jane is not a date-date, and you couldn’t be more happy with that. You carry on with lighter conversation, and she makes no mention of the things that weigh more heavily on her heart. You know that you’re probably not the best person to be bringing those things to. You hope she has someone who she can talk to. For your part, if you can give her an escape, some perspective, a break...
Well, what are friends for?
~
The Crocker-English Society for Public Welfare gets a ringing endorsement from the rest of your friends, and Callie helps the two of you host a charity drive - an auction of various relics from Earth B, and some belongings that you and Jane are getting rid of in your next spring cleanings. For some no doubt disturbing reason, those are exceptionally popular. But if it helps your endeavors, you’re happy to provide.
The young person you took to the hospital months ago shyly approaches you there, flanked by their supportive foster parents. You successfully manage to hide them from the invasive press, and you find yourself beset by their gratitude, blessedly less tearful and happier than when you met them the first time. You do your best to point out the courage it took for them to ask for help, and how that played so much more of a role than merely driving them to the hospital. They seem a little skeptical, and their foster parents start telling you the story of how the Crocker-English Society stepped in to help their placement.
You are grateful to Jane, too. Without her, none of this would have been possible - you may very well have remained aimless and unable to fulfill your Hope for the future. You make sure that every heaping of praise and congratulation is laid on you both equally.
And, well? You carry on. You watch the flame. You make sure it matches the amount of fuel you give it. You make room for others to warm themselves at its side. Things are looking brighter.