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Cody:

Cody would have struggled to express what was going through his head as he rinsed out his mother’s old camping thermos and started hunting for the cocoa mix. He hadn’t been able to sit still for even one moment of the last six hours.

It was all an adrenaline heavy blur. Sprinting through the rain to find Finch, his heart going a mile a minute in his chest. The expression on the older man’s face as he’d explained. The sinking feeling in his gut as the agent’s look went from bemusement, to worry, to simple military intensity.

Finch had gone into problem solving mode; fabricating excuses for the sudden hole in the cinema wall with the determined calm of a practiced expert. He’d instructed Cody to go home and wait. He’d said that James would be okay. Cody had hated every second of it.

But that was fine. It was all fine. James was okay. He sounded happy and tired and weird, but he was okay, and that would do. He’d go meet him, hand over the cocoa, and then maybe they’d get to go on a date without getting interrupted by a giant monster.

Cody felt a quiet stab of pride at that. He couldn’t help it.

‘I threw a brick at a kaiju today,’ he thought. ‘To protect James. I’m a fucking badass. So what if it did nothing? I still did it.’

He waited for the milk to heat through, then poured it into the thermos atop the cocoa mix. He screwed the cap closed, and gave the thing a shake.

‘Right. Marshmallows.’

He grabbed a mini marshmallow pack and stuffed it in his pocket.

‘Let’s go see my boyfriend.’

“Mom! I’m heading out! I’ll see ya later!”

With that, he grabbed his waterproof, and the thermos, and stepped out into the rain. 

The jog across town was short, and when he hit the treeline by the side of the lake, he picked up speed, crashing through puddles and underbrush, all caution to the wind. He wanted this to be done with. He at least wanted to be involved.

His ten minute sprint brought him, panting lightly, to the cave mouth. He spotted James from a distance, sitting on a boulder taller than he was, one cheek resting on his palm, gazing at the phone in his other hand. The sight was nothing short of a relief.

“Hey,” Cody called as he broke the treeline. “Hey, James! Over here!”

James glanced up at the new arrival, and his expression brightened. He waved, the back of his hand slightly glowing.

“Hey, Cody. You got the cocoa?”

“Yeah,” Cody replied. “I got your cocoa, weirdo. What do ya need it for, anyways?”

James shrugged, slipping the phone into his pocket and hopping down off the boulder to greet him. He fell a tad slower than he should have done.

“Eh, nothing much. I managed to stop the Spirit trying to kill me, but now it’s upset and I promised it a treat. May I?”

He held out a hand for the thermos, but Cody didn’t move.

Purity marks, sitting dark and heavy on the skin around James’ left eye; beneath them, on his cheek, the marks of pain.

He’s had sex. He’s had sex and he didn’t tell me. Was it today? Was he hiding them? Was he lying?

James caught the staring after the first half second, and raised an eyebrow.

“Dude. You okay? What’s wrong?”

Then, realization. His face fell.

James stepped forward, and tugged the thermos from Cody’s hand.

“… I got raped last year,” he muttered, his voice low, even defensive. “It’s how I got my powers. Do me a favor and pretend you never saw, okay?”

“Oh,” Cody mumbled, suddenly deeply ashamed. “… Okay.”

James:

James kept his breathing calm and steady. This wasn’t how he’d wanted things to go. He hadn’t wanted Cody to find out. He gave a resigned internal shrug, and stepped towards the water’s edge, now sitting rather lower than it had before. He laid a palm flat against it.

“Mr. Whiskers?” he murmured. “I got the stuff. You can come out now.”

For a few seconds, nothing happened. James glanced back towards the still perturbed looking Cody.

“Oh. Uh. Cody? Just a warning. The Spirit’s gonna be here in a minute.”

Cody nodded, his expression setting into something like worry, then determination. Then, his attention shifted. Following his gaze, James saw why.

For the first time, the Spirit rose from the cave without a form; not water, wood, or gravel. It was spectral now; green foxfire glowing about its form, picking out hints of otherwise translucent fur. At least it wasn’t huge this time.

His feet left the shore as he floated forward.

“Hey,” he murmured, keeping his voice low, his emotions as level as he could. “We got the cocoa.”

There was a mild shudder as the spirit’s mind once more brushed against his own. It was oddly uncomfortable; exposed, no privacy. Was this what Casper’s power felt like? He brushed the thought aside.

The spirit hardly seemed to notice, translucent paws padding atop the water’s surface as it crossed the gap toward him. It lowered its head to the thermos, and gave it a sniff, a touch of curiosity bubbling up through the still present layer of resentment.

James chuckled.

“C’mon. Give it a try.”

He drifted back towards the shoreline at that, unscrewing the cap and setting it down on the rocks. Then, carefully, he poured the tiger some hot cocoa.

The spirit was tentative, at first, prowling, examining. It didn’t trust him.

Fair enough.

He backed away a little, letting it draw closer. The spirit stooped down, and lapped at the slightly steaming fluid.

Consideration, then grudging satisfaction.

James had a sister. He knew the sensation well.

“Do we have any marshmallows?” he asked, shooting an over the shoulder glance at Cody.

“Oh,” the other boy muttered, fumbling awkwardly in his coat pocket. “Right. Sure. Yeah.” A moment later, he produced a clear plastic packet, and tossed it across to James, who peeled it open.

“Right,” said James. “Mr. Whiskers, these are called mini-marshmallows, and they are going to change your life, okay?” He poured a couple into his hand, and proffered it towards the spirit.

For its part, the spirit stepped forward, examined the spongy mass for a moment, then scooped it out of James’ palm.

The sensation as a tongue that wasn’t entirely solid licked partway through his hand to get at the treat was almost impossible to describe. The spirit chewed for a moment, swallowed, then let out a huff, seeming to shrug.

“… Well, I think they’re cool.”

He sat at that, aware of the uncomfortable equilibrium in which they found themselves. The tiger, for its part, went back to the hot chocolate.

What to do now?

He thought in silence for a while, only brought out of it when the tiger let out a grunt, gently headbutting the side of the thermos flask.

“Oh. You want some more? Okay.”

He poured another cup, and, in the clearest way he could, asked the biggest question on his mind:

Pictures of the rain; the lake slowly overflowing, the puddles, the damp. He projected it forward into their shared mental space, and laced it through with as much curiosity as he could.

‘Why?’

If he hadn’t been able to feel what the spirit was feeling, he’d have thought it had ignored him. It lowered its head for another drink, fresh emotions roiling in its head, pushing that weakening resentment to the side.

Loss. Pain. Fear. Loneliness. A sense of longing. The gradual death of hope.

The creature pushed each of those emotions forward; an explanation.

James winced. He’d felt something similar before, his night spent stranded in the other world with Charlie. He composed his answer.

He shared a memory. Himself, sitting on a beach, with the body of a comatose friend, staring at a trio of unfamiliar moons. He put forward each of those same emotions in their turn, then another; sympathy. The spirit wouldn’t look at him at that. He reached out, his knuckles grazing at the creature’s jaw. It didn’t pull away. He scritched it behind the ear.

“Long way from home, huh?” he murmured, his voice low.

Well, maybe that was something they could fix.

Awkwardly, not one hundred percent sure of how to word it, James put his question forward.

An image of himself, then an image of his house. Pictures of his room, and how it felt to sink into the pillows of his bed after a long day’s work. Pictures of his sister, and the feeling of how she drove him crazy, and how he’d do anything to keep her safe. Pictures of Casper, and that feeling of comfy familiarity. The satisfaction of a friendship, and the lingering awkwardness of attraction- He moved on from Casper. He showed images of his parents, and shared with it how safe they made him feel. Then, he pulled away from that, and showed the picture of his house again, cramming as many of those feelings inside that image as he could. Then, he showed a picture of the spirit, that ghostly green mega tiger, and coupled it with curiosity.

‘Where is home for you?’

There was a quiet moment, before the spirit finally responded.

He had expected an image of a forest. Maybe something with a landmark that could be used to guide the creature home. What he got was a good deal more:

Standing at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a canyon that one could run through for days without seeming to reach the end. The majesty of it. 

The sight of diminutive paradise birds dancing in the air, swooping and gliding to impress potential partners, their coats casting rainbow glimmers over a rapid flowing stream. Their grace. Their elegance. 

Running under the belly of a canyon crawler as it strode above the trees, like a towering, crystal axolotl; the largest of all the creatures in its realm.

The sensation of running and roaring for days and nights through fallen leaves of every color, shedded by the trees above as they made ready for the coming winter.

The brisk cold at the highest peak of its domain. The grandeur of its home sprawling out below. A cloak of life about the world.

Standing before an unknown biped. A struggle, then stranded in an unfamiliar place.

Then came grief. Then came rain.

“Oh,” James realized. “I… Uh. I don’t know how to help with that.”

“Help with what?” Cody asked, confused.

“It’s not from Earth,” James replied, a little stunned. “It’s from somewhere else and it can’t get home. That’s why it’s pissed off.”

“… So,” Cody muttered. “… It’s an alien?”

James gave a bemused kind of shrug.

“I mean, kinda. Yeah.”

He pondered that for a minute. He couldn’t offer to send it home. He wasn’t even sure if they could find where the spirit’s home was, and that was with help. He settled for showing it his sympathy.

It huffed.

He sighed.

“I’m gonna… try a thing,” he muttered. “Not sure if it’s gonna work.”

“Try what?” Cody asked, stopping momentarily in his slow movement towards the spirit.

“I dunno,” James replied. “Relating to it, I guess?”

He hesitated, then posed his next question as Cody finished his brave advance, and cautiously began patting the creature on the shoulder.

Images of the reserve, drenched in rain. The few brief glimpses of wildlife he’d seen out here. Squirrels. The monster from the lake. He put forward a tentative sense of joy, then curiosity.

‘Is there anything here you like?’

The spirit didn’t look at him. Instead, it turned a baleful eye on Cody. The boy didn’t quite flinch, but his petting halted. It grunted, and nuzzled his wrist with the side of its head.

Cody awkwardly started scratching its head, and it returned its eyes to James.

An image; industrious creatures building a fortress in a pond, assembling it from fallen sticks and timber. A sense of satisfaction.

“… Huh. Beavers,” James murmured, a little underwhelmed. The spirit growled. “Nono, that’s fine! Beavers are cool, we have more stuff like that.” He fumbled hurriedly around for a memory to share. A few visits to a zoo. He showed it a giraffe.

Curiosity.

“Okay. Okay, cool. You like animals. Well, check out this one.” He showed it a kangaroo.

The spirit cocked its head, confused.

“Yeah, no,” James snickered. “We don’t get it either. Australians are weird.”

“James?” Cody murmured.

“Hold up,” James replied. “I wanna show em a koala-”

“Dude,” the other boy insisted, flicking him on the shoulder. “Look. The rain’s stopped.”

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James:

James made landfall at the mouth of the sunken cave, the stick his grandmother had given him clutched in an ever so slightly trembling hand.

This was a dumb idea. Just a really, really, really dumb idea.

He took a deep breath, held it in his lungs for a moment, then let it out.

Just treat it like a person. Easy. Do it.

“Um. Hello?” He called, his voice somewhat muted by the downpour. “Are you in there? I’m sorry for blasting you, even though you totally deserved it.”

No response.

Right.

Maybe it wasn’t home? James shook the idea from his head. He’d followed the trail left behind as it had fled, right back to where he had first encountered it. It had to be here. He took a breath, and tried again.

“Mr. Wondercat? You in there? I wanna talk. You know, like adults?”

Again, no response.

James heaved a sigh.

“Ok. Well… Just keep ignoring me for like, five minutes, kay? I gotta set up this magic circle thing.”

He looked around at that. The ground around the cave mouth was hard, all jutting rocks and tide pools. Not many places to draw a decent magic circle. Eventually, his eyes alighted on a patch of moss, not yet washed from the bank by the constant rain. That would do.

He pulled his grandma’s phone from his pocket, and checked the picture she’d shown him.

Looks easy enough to copy down… Okay.

With a confidence he was at this point, a shade too tired to really feel, he stepped forward and knelt down in the moss. Then, he began scraping out glyph-work with the end of his stick. It took a while, and by the end, his knees were soaked; but if it let him talk to the spirit, then he would deal.

He sat down in the wet, crossed his legs, and charged the spell. He’d never cast this one before. It took time, and no small amount of effort, pushing at the barriers around his mind; unable to even make them budge. Then, just as his grandmother had said they would, the symbols on the floor began to glow.

Nothing happened.

He checked the backs of his hands; one of them still covered by the temporary housing for the creature from the lake, and waited. 

This was taking way too long. More than that, though, it was draining him of too much power. Every second the spell went on, his reserves shrank a little further; depleted all too fast by this unfamiliar enchantment.

Just a little more, he told himself. You gotta trust Baba. She always pulls through.

That was when the backs of his hands began to glow.

It was small, at first, the faintest specks of blue beneath his skin. Then, as the glyphs around him began to fade, the lights in his hands grew stronger, expanding out until it almost touched the bases of his wrists and knuckles. The enchantment was done. His power ceased to ebb. 

… Okay. So. How’s this supposed to help me, Baba? 

He still didn’t feel any different. Nothing to do but test it out, he supposed.

“Ready or not, Spirit guy. Here I come.”

Guardian:

The entity abandoned its physical form only a short way from the cave mouth. The diminutive creature’s final attack had burned deep, searing pain into the very structure of the guardian’s makeshift body. With that pain had come yet more fear.

They had hurt it again, and the thing above still sought it. The guardian no longer felt surprise. The bipeds were cruel; not even willing to let it run away.

The guardian had acquiesced. What else was there to do? It left its form behind, and fled back to the deep and dark. 

It sat now in the depths, spectral once more, left to nurse its wounds.

The pain was the least of those injuries, though. It was the wound to its pride that truly stung. Ousted from its home. Brought low by that first dull hunter; left to search in fevered fear for whoever knew how long, and just as all hope was set aside, they had sent a mere cub to lay it low.

Pride. The Guardian was not used to being challenged. Even less familiar in all of its unfathomable lifespan than the feeling of physical pain.

The Guardian felt that self same cub make landing up above, a scrap of its wooden body clenched inside his fist as he mewled out his challenge in an unfamiliar tongue.

Yet another insult? The spirit bore it without emotion, shrinking deeper into the cave. It would not push this fight. The bipeds were not worth it. There would be no retaliation unless the cub pushed into its home.

Another high-pitched challenge from above. Were the bipeds truly so aggressive in their youth? The Guardian sank down as far as it could go. 

A hundred breaths, maybe more, before the cub gave a final challenge, and stepped forth into the depths.

The Guardian breathed deeply of the water.

So be it. The bipeds could war, and hurt and scratch at it as they liked. It would survive, however battered. But they would not oust it from its refuge.

Not again.

The cub drifted slowly downward through the cave as the spirit began gathering the tide about it as a cloak, his navigation limited by the pale light emitted by the tiny lantern in his paw. He was less than halfway down by the time his adversary had readied itself for war.

The cub would learn a lesson in respect before his end. The Guardian would make sure of that.

It was as he descended past the midpoint that the spirit made its move, shifting invisible through rock and tide, moving behind him, quiet. In the gathered mass of water, it brought forth its strongest incarnation; the form most suitable for war.

There was something new about the cub this time. A faint light about the backs of his palms. Some new enchantment? No way to know for certain. Best be careful. The cub drifted further down, and it approached; ready to strike.

Trepidation. Uncertainty. Quiet determination.

The spirit jerked back. Those emotions had not come from its own mind. The cub yelped, darting away in the water as it spun around to bring its forelimbs to bear.

So that was what it had been. Some kind of sensor; there to alert the cub to enemies behind him. Clever.

The spirit bared its tide-formed teeth, allowing the glow of its soul to once more permeate the water.

In the fresh light, the cub looked terrified, back pressed against the far wall, one paw flexing unconsciously as if to comfort itself through motion. He was right to be frightened. The spirit wasn’t done.

It prowled toward its cornered foe, blocking the cub’s escape through bulk alone. Why had he come down into the water when distance had been all that saved him in the past? The cub was foolish, he raised a forelimb as if to ward it off, palm flat, fingers splayed. The same stance he had taken before firing that bolt into its shoulder. The Guardian couldn’t help but flinch, its advance halting in spite of itself. It was unused to fear.

No lightning came. Not for the space of several breaths. Then, tentatively, the cub drifted forwards.

James:

Please don’t hurt me. Mr. Wondercat. I’m not gonna blast you. I promise-

The spirit growled as he drew closer, its green-tinged form looming vast before him in the water. He did not want to fight this thing again. He stopped his motion. Growling meant stop. He didn’t need a spell to tell him that.

There had been a moment, when he’d felt its mind brush against his own.

Anger, hurt, sorrow; a depth of wounded pride.

He felt maybe a little bad about that.

For a moment, they simply hung there, facing one another in the gloom, unmoving.

It was gazing at his hand, raised in desperate placation. When he tried to move it, the creature flinched.

It’s scared of my hand? Oh. Right. Cuz I beat it up.

Very slowly. Very, very carefully, he shifted his outstretched arm, lifting the other one to match, holding them out to either side, as unthreatening as he could be.

I’m not gonna fire punch you. No more lightning bolts, I promise. Not unless you make me. Please be chill.

He held for a few moments, then, slowly drifted forwards.

The spirit’s lips drew back, baring its jaws, each tooth the size of James’ hand. It was bigger than ever now. Even so, it made no move to stop him.

He felt it as whatever enchantment his grandmother had given him took effect once more. He felt the spirit’s mind brush against his own.

Rage and fear, balanced in equal measure. Only a hair’s breadth from attacking him. He tried not to take it personally. He took a breath.

It’s a spirit, he reminded himself. The most important thing is being sincere.

No doubt it could feel in his mind too. He did what he could, looking inside himself, and focusing as hard as he could manage on the slight guilt inside his chest. It wasn’t much, but it was as sincere as he could be.

‘I’m sorry that I hurt you.’

The response was only half of what he’d hoped for. First, the spirit shifted, momentarily losing that tension about its frame; anger now touched by a note of surprise. For a second, James thought it had worked, before the creature struck at him, one massive forepaw sweeping through the water, too fast for him to dodge, sending him spinning through the water, his shields flaring.

He righted himself just in time to hear the creature snarl.

Frick!

It surged forwards then, pressing that empathic bubble back together; forcing him back against the wall; forcing its mind against his own. It was better at this than him, thoughts and images springing into his mind from a place entirely beyond himself.

Pain. Isolation. Grief. The fear of being hunted. Images of himself and Finch. Oppression.

It raised a paw against his chest, pinned his back against the wall, and roared.

‘Your fault!’

By his own admission, James was not a perfect being. He had faults. He had a temper. More than either of those, however, he had a little sister, with whom he often argued.

He didn’t like being blamed for things that other people did.

For a brief moment, it was as if a hurricane had slipped beneath the water. One second, James was pinned firmly to the wall, a giant monster screaming at him like an angry toddler. The next, he was bound in wind. 

‘My fault?’

The spirit tried and failed to hold its place against him as the bubble of air expanded to fill the space around himself, scrabbling for purchase as the pressure pushed it back across the cavern. When his body finished forming, he filled almost half the space; twice again as large as the spirit was. 

It saw his centre; that glowing mass that constituted his biggest weakness in this form, and lunged for it.

‘Uh uh. Not happening.’

The monster yelped as his hands took hold, one wrapping firm around its head, the other pressing it hard against the ground, legs struggling to keep it upright.

He brought himself in close, and, with all the petulant anger he could summon, thought of its jaws wrapping hard around his foot.

‘You started this.’

The spirit yowled and roared, struggling in his grip as he made his point. This was absolutely not what his grandmother had told him he should do. Well, screw it. Four times, this thing had attacked him now. He wasn’t going to take that lying down. He brought forth his memory of Cody, barely protected from the rushing water as the spirit tried to crush them.

‘You started it every time.’

The spirit tried to struggle free, but this time, it was James who roared.

When he was done, the thing lay still. Cowed. Point made. He could feel resentment bubbling in its skin. He didn’t care.

He let the spirit go, and reverted to his human form as it found its feet, glowering down at him like the world’s most intimidating four year old.

He took a second to force himself to calm, then let out a burst of bubbles in a subaquatic sigh.

He’d made his point. If having a sister had taught him anything, it was that now was the time for a peace offering. 

He moved close enough for their minds to once more touch, and, as earnestly as he was able, conjured a memory of something nice. He made the offer.

The spirit let out a low growl, followed by a huff.

Resignation and despondency.

‘Sure. Whatever.’

James smiled. This was progress. He’d take it. He retrieved his grandmother’s phone from where it lay, and returned to the entrance of the cave. The water level sat a good deal lower now.

When he hit air, he dialled in a number.

One ring. Two. Three.

“Hello?” Cody asked on the other end.

“Hey, Cody,” James replied, his smile growing a little wider. “Look, I kind of need a favor-”

“James!” Cody yelped. “Are you okay? What happened to you? Are you safe!?”

James just chuckled tiredly at that.

“Yeah. I’m okay. Stuff got heavy, but I think I’ve made a breakthrough. I kinda need your help now, though.”

“Anything,” Cody answered without hesitation, his voice hard. “Say the word and I’m there.”

“Awesome. I’m at the cave where the spirit tried to kill us. Can you bring me some hot cocoa?”

“… What?”

James shrugged.

“Y’know, enough to share.”

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