Chapter Text
The new girl was really weird. She—Faroe—wasn't rude or anything, in fact she was lovely. But she just had… odd reactions.
Like when Jane asked about her story. Of course, they knew what it felt like to be uncomfortable sharing something so private, but Faroe hadn't looked uncomfortable. She had looked scared—her shaky hands tightened around the suitcase still in her grip, and her eyes darted toward the door. Almost like she was ready to run at any moment, calculating the best escape route. Somehow, she managed to look more terrified when Jane mentioned her looking familiar.
What are you hiding, mysterious girl? Jane wondered, seeing Faroe’s breath quicken. But she knew that she couldn’t bring herself to ask that question out loud. They had just met this girl, and they weren’t going to ruin a friendship this quickly. Especially when they had so few.
Jane had concluded that Faroe’s familiarity was due to how oddly similar she looked to Bella, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of some kind of déjà vu.
But that feeling passed as the pair continued to chatter on.
Jane glanced at the wooden cane propped up against Faroe’s bed frame. “Cool stars. Did you paint those?”
“A bit, I guess?” Faroe smiled a bit. “I painted it with my dad, when I was younger. But, uhm,” her smile faded and her voice got quieter, “like I mentioned, I lost him. A while ago, actually. It’s really all I’ve got left.”
Jane remembered her mentioning it in passing only a few moments earlier, but it seemed like a bit of a delicate topic. She grabbed an old violin string off her bedside table, desperate for a topic change.
“Uhh… look at this!” Jane said, holding it out.
“It’s a violin string?” Faroe said, laughing slightly.
“Yeah!”
Jesus fucking Christ, Jane thought. Who does this for a new friend?
He pulled back his hands, twisting the string around their fingers. “Sorry. The, uh, topic seemed sensitive. I just wanted to change the topic, and I just grabbed something, I’m so sorry—”
“Jane,” Faroe’s eyes lit up, a grin on her face. “You’re fine! I wasn’t laughing at you, promise.”
Jane sighed with relief, feeling a smile break out on her face. She reached across the gap between the beds and set the string on Faroe’s lap. “Keep it, I’ve got more. I know you don’t play, but I have no use for it. I don’t even have a violin, it wound up in my case by mistake.”
Faroe grabbed the string and wrapped it up, still smiling as she tucked it away in her pocket. “Thanks, I’ll keep it safe.”
A few soft knocks sounded on the door, and Parker spoke from the other side. “May I come in? Just wanted to say hi before I went home.”
After Jane let him in, he leant against a wall. “How are you doing, girls? Settling in well?”
Faroe’s smile dimmed a bit, and she avoided Parker’s eyes. “It’s fine, you’re all very nice.”
What’s going on? She was fine a minute ago, Jane worried. Is she just nervous around new people? Honestly, I don’t blame her, she’s obviously been through a lot.
Parker looked concerned too. “Are you okay? You can be honest if we’re awful, seriously.”
“No, no, it’s not you,” Faroe said, giving a small, slightly forced laugh. “Genuinely, thank you all. I’m just adjusting.”
“Alright,” Parker straightened up and set a hand on her shoulder. “Just let any of us know if you need help, okay?”
Faroe nodded, turning her head away as Parker walked toward the door. Even though she moved quickly, Jane still could’ve sworn that they’d seen tears in her eyes.
————
Maybe it was having another person in the room, but Jane had trouble making herself fall asleep that night. To be fair, Faroe seemed to be having the same problem—she faced the wall the whole night, but Jane could hear faint, muffled sobs that she was clearly trying to hide. Jane would have said something, but had no clue what would help.
Eventually, however, they somehow managed to fall asleep. But, honestly, sleep wasn’t much better.
Jane was used to strange, vague flashes of voices and sights in their dreams. It never made sense, and he always forgot the details by morning. But the dreams were clearer that night.
They stood in front of a foggy, decrepit mirror in an otherwise empty room. Hands shaking slightly, Jane approached it, reaching out to wipe it off. As they did, they paused. Is this really what I want? she thought. What if I’m better off not knowing who I am?
Suddenly, the memory of the strange déjà vu when talking to Faroe crossed her mind. If they had known each other, Jane had to find out.
But as she touched the mirror, it instantly shattered, and a strange gust of wind rushing out of it knocked him to the ground. Everything went dark.
He was in a hospital room, it seemed; white walls, a white bed, open curtains that let the sunlight through.
A strangely familiar voice echoed through her head, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“It’s good to finally have something to call you, Jane,” the voice said, and she could hear their smile, even though they seemed to be out of sight.
The scene shifted, and Jane saw a snow-covered graveyard around them. They could hear the quiet, tinkling melody of a music box. Turning toward the sound, she saw a man covered in blood stood in front of them, and he smiled manically.
“Interesting things going on, huh, Janey?” he said, snapping the box shut. “Don’t worry, it’ll get more exciting later on.”
A million questions spun through her head: Who are you? How do you know my name? What do you mean? Why is this familiar?
As she opened her mouth to speak, the man shushed her. “I don’t have time for questions today, I’m a busy… man? Thing? Entity? Who knows! Whatever the case, I think it’s time for you, daffodil, to wake. Up.” He enunciated the last two words sharply, giving Jane a push that sent them falling, falling down an infinite hole—a hole that seemed to be made of memory fragments.
An office, with a man lying on the floor.
A cave, with strange, terrifying noises echoing.
Another mirror, this one on a stage. They could almost see a reflection this time, but it was too blurry to make out.
A piano.
Jane’s eyes snapped open, and they shot up in bed, heart racing.
What the actual hell was that?! I’ve never had dreams that vivid before, she thought, trying to get her breath under control.
She glanced across the room, hoping Faroe hadn’t noticed anything. Thankfully, though, she seemed to have finally fallen asleep. Jane stood up, needing a walk around the house.
They walked on their tiptoes down the stairs, knowing how loud they could creak. Everyone else was probably asleep, no need to wake them up. But to their dismay, the light in the kitchen was on, and someone was standing by the stove.
Jane tried to turn around, but the person in the kitchen looked over their shoulder at him.
“I don’t bite, Jane,” Arthur said quietly, smiling. “I couldn’t sleep, so I’m making some tea, do you want some?”
They nodded, still slightly disoriented and upset. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I just needed a walk.”
Arthur handed her a mug. “Dreams again?”
“They were worse this time, I think. Or they were at least more vivid,” she said, taking a sip. The tea was good, but admittedly scalded her tongue a bit. At least the burning sensation was a distraction.
“Did you learn anything? About your past, I mean.”
“A bit? I guess I was named Jane before, but other than that, I saw a foggy mirror and…”
Jane concentrated, trying to remember the dream. “A man? I think? He was covered in blood, and I think he knew me.”
Arthur’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, the exhaustion in his face evaporating. “Considering the fact that we know very little about you, and you can barely remember anything, that can’t mean anything good.” He set his mug down, beginning to pace across the kitchen floor. “If you remember anything more about him—appearance, name, anything—let me know. I can try to track him down.”
Jane nodded, panic beginning to choke them. What if that man had tried to kill them? Or, even worse, what if she had helped him do god knows what to other people? She remembered her hesitation in front of the foggy mirror.
What if I’m better off not knowing who I am?
What if Faroe was so scared because she knows me? What if I hurt her somehow? Or what if I hurt Bella? Or Parker? Or Arthur? What if they just don’t know it was me, or they forgot?
Jane struggled to the nearest chair, feeling nauseous. Arthur pushed his glasses to the top of his head and sat down next to them.
“Are you okay?” he said, frown deepening.
Jane nodded, taking a deep breath. “I just thought about… possibilities. I just don’t think I could live with myself if I hurt one of you.”
“Even if you had, you would obviously regret it now. No matter what happened to you then, you’re here now.”
He drained the last of his tea and set the mug in the sink. “Just remember, Jane. You are the master of your fate.”
With that, he left the kitchen, leaving Jane at the table with her mug.