Chapter Text
“This is utterly ridiculous”, Donut scoffed, waving her paw at the tunneling screen. “You’d think that, in a universe with quadrillions of people, there would be a few with at least one iota of understanding how proper reality television is run!”
I listened half-heartedly, allowing Donut’s words to wash over me without paying much attention. At this point, I had her rant memorized. It was a common enough occurrence that I knew exactly where to add my hums of agreement. She knew I wasn’t really listening. I knew she wasn’t really upset. We were both going through the motions of what had become daily life. Sleep, eat, and watch shitty reality TV. Wahoo.
That was the hardest part. The boredom.
Don’t get me wrong – there's nothing bad about being bored. It sure beats the never-ending cycle of survival that we had fought our way through. But, as I sat in front of the screen kept in our living room, watching whatever mindless bullshit that had captured Donut’s attention that week, a familiar thought ran through my mind. Is this really all there is?
Donut stretched in my lap, disrupting my hand from where it was stroking her back. “I mean, seriously, Carl. What’s the point of a dating show that features different species if they’re all just going to end up with someone of their own race at the end? It’s bad casting, bad producing, and above all else, bad writing!”
I squinted at the tunnel, trying to catch up on what I wasn’t paying attention to. All the female players were standing up in a line, selecting the male players they wanted to stay coupled to. Sure enough, most of the pairings were between two members of the same alien race. Two Nagas, two Skyfowl, two Orcs, and so on; the only pairing that defied the trend was a Crest and a Human, who were holding hands near the end of the lineup.
“Reality TV isn’t scripted, Donut,” I replied, absentmindedly tangling my fingers in her fur.
She scoffed again, this time directed at me. “Don’t be idiotic, Carl. All proper reality TV is plotted out long before any filming actually happens. That’s what makes it so juicy.”
I shrug. “Whatever. Maybe interspecies dating just isn’t something that usually happens.”
Donut hurmphed, claws pricking into my skin momentarily. “Try telling that to Katia and Bautista, Carl. Or to Juice Box and Louis. Oh, or Chris and Imani -”
“Those don’t count -” I tried to interject.
“And don’t even get me started on all of the interspecies snicks there are,” Donut continued, not hearing me.
I rolled my eyes. “Goddammit, Donut, will you stop watching those?”
She barreled on. “Most of the snicks that involve you also involve non-humans, you know. You remember the snick with the Maestro, of course, as well as the many snicks that involve yours truly, but that’s truly only the tip of the iceberg, Carl. There’s a surprising amount of snicks between you and the AI, which makes a lot of sense given it’s well-known love of your tootsies. Some of them are between you and Orren, too, or even you and Prepotente!”
“What?” I squeaked, looking down at her incredulously. Me and Prepotente?
“Oh yes, you were quite popular with the adult film crowd, Carl. Ooh, I can’t believe I almost forgot the one between you and Damascus Steel! Yes, I quite enjoyed that one, it was very well produced.”
“Christ, Donut,” I grumbled. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop watching porn that features me in it? It’s weird. What do you even get out of watching those?”
Donut began licking her paw lazily. “I enjoy supporting amateur artists. Sex work is work, Carl.”
I dumped Donut off my lap onto the couch beside me. She hissed, hackles raised. “Well, find someone else to perv on, then. I’m sure there are plenty of amateur artists out there that aren’t people you know personally.”
“It’s no fun that way,” Donut complained. “How else am I supposed to have an emotional connection to the storyline if I don’t already have context for the characters?”
“I’m not a character, Donut,” I responded, teeth gritted. “You know what, as long as I’m not involved, watch whatever you want.” I stood up and headed for the small kitchen in the next room over. At least this conversation wasn’t part of our usual mundane talking points. You gotta celebrate the little victories.
“I suppose I could watch some of the older ones from Mordecai’s season, though I would need to filter out any of the newer ones that feature you.” Donut’s voice drifted into the kitchen. She sounded like she was sulking. “He was apparently very handsome, according to Skyfowl standards. Though some of the newer stuff is much more exciting – he has a lot of different forms, you know!”
I let Donut’s voice fade into the background as I stopped in front of the fridge. With my hand grasping the handle, my head fell forward, resting against the cold metal of the door. Mordecai was a... touchy subject these days. He was off on his own, somewhere. I didn’t know. I hadn’t talked to him since we left the dungeon.
Donut’s words suddenly registered.
“Wait,” I said, walking back to the living room. “Me and Mordecai?”
“Please, Carl,” Donut sniffed, swishing her tail back and forth. “You’ve had virtual relations with pretty much everyone you met in the dungeon. Don’t act surprised that Mordecai is one of them.”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I asked,” I said, throwing my hands up. Touchy subject be damned, Mordecai had to be less of a minefield than this. “Have you, uh, heard from him recently?”
Donut’s ears drooped. Fuck. I immediately felt bad for bringing it up.
“The last message I got from him was the picture from a week ago. The one of the plushie Mongo that he said he bought.” She began kneading the couch cushion anxiously, claws sticking in the fabric. I remembered the picture; my heart squeezed painfully in my chest as I thought of the pet. “It’s never been this long between check-ins, Carl. I’m getting quite worried.” Her voice tapered off, wobbling at the end.
“Hey,” I said, immediately moving closer. I sat back down beside her, scooping her up to my chest. She snuggled in, staring up at me with big, shining eyes. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s survived millennia on his own in the dungeon, right? He can handle himself. He’ll be back to sending you grumpy messages in no time.”
“But what if he’s not?” Donut whimpered. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t ask him to come with us. He could’ve been here, and then we would’ve stayed a family.”
I swallowed. Here we go. “We’ve talked about this, Donut. He’s his own person. Mordecai doesn’t need to worry about us anymore. He’s finally free to do his own thing.” I stroked her flank. She was shaking. “We’re no longer an obligation to him.”
“But how do you know he wanted to go off on his own? You never even offered for him to come with us.”
“You’ve asked him, right?” She looked up at me, nodding pathetically. “And what did he say?”
“That he’d think about it,” Donut replied, ears drooping further.
“So let him think about it,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “If he wants to be here with us, then he’ll let you know. Until then, we can’t force him.”
“He’d be here if you asked him, Carl,” Donut said. “He doesn’t believe me when I tell him that you’d want him here.”
I knew what she was trying to do; if the dungeon taught her one thing, it was how to manipulate someone. I scritched behind her ears, trying to think of what to say. There was a knot in my stomach that always formed when I thought about asking Mordecai to visit. To stay with us. I could never live with myself if I found out that he stayed out of a sense of responsibility. Of obligation. To me, we would be no better than Borant, than the tyrants that forced him into indentured servitude in the first place. Fuck that.
“That’s not going to work, Donut,” I replied, hoping she would drop the subject.
“I keep imagining him dead in an intergalactic ditch somewhere, or sequestered in a whore house drinking himself to death and getting infected with an innumerable amount of sex viruses from who knows where.” Her eyes grew bigger. “You could be saving him, Carl.”
“Donut,” I warned.
She rested a paw on my chin, her tiny claws scratching daintily against my skin. Here comes the last nail in the coffin. I steeled myself.
“I thought the worrying would be over.” She said quietly. I could tell that she wasn’t playing anymore. The mask was off. “Once we got out of the dungeon, we weren’t supposed to lose anyone anymore. Please don’t make me lose someone else.”
I lowered my head, tucking my face into her furry body. We never really talked about everyone we had to leave behind when we took our deal. Samantha. Rend. All of the NPCs. Mongo. Everyone else, our friends, our family, had scattered across the universe. Christ, we had already lost so much. “Fine,” I muttered, voice muffled. “Fuck, Donut, fine. I’ll send him a chat, okay?”
Donut curled closer, purring loudly as I pulled up the chat function. I scrolled past the few chats I had since the dungeon closed, updates from various members of the group flicking by as I searched for a thread that hadn’t been used in almost a year.
Mordecai had sent me a message the day after we accepted our deals. It was a simple one.
Mordecai: Thank you, Carl.
There was a finality to that message; I might not be the smartest, but I can read between the lines. He was Donut’s manager, not mine. If he only wanted to keep up with her, that was none of my business. I swallowed, clicking into the chat function.
Carl: Hey, Mordecai. It’s been a while. Donut and I were just talking and wanted to see if you wanted to visit. We miss you. Donut especially.
“There,” I murmured to Donut as I gently rocked her. “I sent it. I’ll let you know what he says.”
I turned back to the TV and hoped the knot in my stomach wasn’t telling me I was making a mistake.
---
It had been a few weeks, and I still hadn’t heard back from Mordecai. I had sent him a few more chats, hoping to get his attention.
Carl: Mordecai?
Carl: Hey, man. We’d appreciate some confirmation that you’re okay. Donut’s worried about you.
Carl: If you don’t want to talk to me, fine, but you’d better answer Donut. Don’t fucking walk away from her like this.
Donut was beside herself with worry. I constantly saw her eyes flashing as she checked her chat, looking for Mordecai’s absent response. She was clingier than normal, choosing to rest on my shoulder or in my arms for most of the day, reassured by physical touch that I was still here. It calmed me, knowing she was there. There was no real danger here; we were far too remote in the system to be truly scared, but the feeling of her tiny heart beating strong in her chest settled me. She was all that I had left out here. We were all that each other had left, in the end.
As the days went on, marked only by absent messages never received, my worry morphed into anger. Anger that Mordecai would choose to abandon us. To abandon Donut, after everything. Fuck that. Fuck him. As we were getting ready for bed one night, I decided to send him one last message.
Carl: Fuck you, Mordecai. I know you’re not dead, which would be the only goddamn excuse I would accept for you going fucking AWOL on us. You’re a piece of shit for hurting Donut like this. I hope whatever bender you’re on is worth it, asshole.
I laid down on the bed, settling in as Donut got comfy draped across my chest. I stroked her fur and took a deep breath.
“I think we should stop expecting Mordecai to respond, Donut.”
She tensed, burying her face in her fur to hide from me. “But, but,” she began, voice muffled, “what if he needs help? He could be hurt, or worse -”
“He’s not dead.” I said, voice short. “He’s still in our chat function.”
“That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need help! He’s family, Carl, we can’t just -”
“Donut,” I cut her off, gently lifting her head up to look at me. There were tears forming in her eyes, making them glisten in the dim moonlight shining into our bedroom. “He is family, but sometimes you have to step away from family. Especially if they hurt you.”
Donut’s face crumpled as she began to cry in earnest. I slowly rolled to my side, cradling her against my side. I hunched over her, as if to protect her. I wished I could protect her from this. I couldn’t. All I could do was ride it out with her and be here when she came out on the other side.
“Why does everyone leave?” Her broken little voice was barely a whisper. “Everyone always leaves me. Am I that much of a burden?”
“I’m still here,” I whispered back. “I will always be here.”
Donut squirmed, trying to snuggle impossibly closer. I tightened my arms around her, cocooning her to me. “I love you, Carl.”
Heartbroken, I leaned my head down to give her a soft kiss between her ears. “I love you, too, Princess.”
If Mordecai ever had the gall to show his feathered ass again, the first goddamned thing out of his mouth better be a fucking apology.
---
Life went on.
We were back to our usual rotation. Sleep, eat, watch shitty reality TV. Our conversations, when we had them, were about nothing of substance. Donut had grown quiet in a way I had never seen her before; she still gossiped, still gave me updates from her conversations with Katia and the rest of the crew, but there was an emptiness in her that was new. It scared me.
It scared me so much that I had spent an afternoon searching how to fix depression in cats on my laptop, with no luck.
The biggest difference was that Mordecai had been upgraded from a touchy subject to a never-to-be-uttered-aloud-again subject. I thought that it would be good for her to process what had happened, but any attempt to bring him up was quickly shut down. If Donut wanted to try some good old-fashioned repression, who was I to stop her?
It would be hypocritical of me, anyways.
That morning the sun was bright, the light golden in the trees that surrounded our humble little house. I was in the middle of convincing Donut to take a walk around the forest to see the strange alien creatures that populated this remote area. Despite everything that led to us being here, despite everything that we had seen and done, there was still something kind of magical about living on a different planet.
I wanted her to see that magic. I was desperate for her to feel something more than nothing.
“Come on,” I coaxed her, holding out my arms for her to jump into. “It’ll be good to get some fresh air. Maybe there will be little creatures for you to terrorize out there.”
Donut sighed as she kneaded at the couch cushion. “I don’t know, Carl,” she said. “It’ll get hot soon and you know how I feel about sweating.”
“We don’t have to go for long,” I countered. “As soon as you say so, we can come back, okay?” Donut still hesitated, staring longingly at the TV. I pulled one more desperate move. “Please, Donut? I don’t want to go out without you.”
She sighed again, then leapt into my open arms. I felt a small twinge of guilt but brushed it aside. I was doing this for her own good. I stroked her fur, silently thanking her.
A knock sounded from the front door.
Donut and I tensed. The only time anyone knocked was when we ordered something that we couldn’t get through our food box or from the local town nearby. It doesn’t happen very often.
I carefully set Donut back down on the couch, patting her back once in reassurance. She was shaking. I quickly walked to the door and set my hand on the knob, resting there for a moment. Whoever it was, I could tell them to fuck off and be done with it. Donut and I could spend the rest of the day inside, if we needed to. Goddammit.
I opened the door an inch, peering stonily through the gap. A Skyfowl stood on the other side. His feathers were ruffled, matted; they looked nothing like the sleek, shiny plumage that we saw on the fifth floor. He looked horrible, but the smell was even worse. There were times when Donut and I had been soaked in viscera that I swore smelled better than this. As his gaze nervously met mine, my grip tightened on the door handle.
“Hey, kid,” Mordecai said quietly. “Can I come in?”