"There's something I need to do." Their thoughts were becoming increasingly tied together, so much so that Netta wondered if it were possible for her to keep secrets any longer. If it were possible for her to, this one was, perhaps, her last secret. And, in light of the disquieting power that Ash seemed to hold, it would be for the best that she let it be free.

Ash had been staring out of the passenger's side window in silence for a long while, sensing her increasing need for introspection and not wanting to push her about it. He said nothing for a moment. When he spoke aloud, and Netta did not miss the way he found her need to speak aloud to him to be offensive. "Oookaaay. What is it?"

"Something - that I never thought I'd want again." Something I failed to reclaim earlier.

Here Netta was again, after having walked the distance to the hole. Ash had followed, and Netta was glad for his physical presence, the sound of the footfalls that didn't have to exist, but she knew he willed them to, for her benefit. She didn't know how she'd feel about Ash's presence, once she had found what she had come for. For the moment, even though neither of them spoke, the sound of his foot falls after her own was a comfort.

It had been a while since she had gotten out of the car and had begun walking. To Ash's credit, he had remained silent and had not attempted to read Netta's many - confusing - thoughts. When at last he broke the silence, Netta had long been expecting it, was impressed by his - seemingly endless - patience.

"And you're sure that you know where this - whatever it is - is supposed to be?"

It was as Netta passed by yet another one of those desiccated trees, small things that had likely never experienced a winter, that she saw it in the distance.

A sick pit formed in the bottom of Netta's stomach and she did the one thing that she often longed to do when she felt uncertain or frightened, but had not felt the right to. Reaching back, Netta found Ash's great hand in her smaller one, clenched it tight. She stopped, took in a deep breath, tried to will herself to feel courage. "I did something after the first time I - banished you. Do you remember it?"

Ash was silent at first - shock? - then he let out a slow, low chuckle that sounded bereft of humor. "I certainly do. When I tried to get you to come to your senses as you ran away from home. Without me."

Netta wanted to turn around, to gaze at him, but lacked the fortitude to look into his face. To see his expression when she told him what she had done. And, oh, but she hoped he would forgive her.

There existed holes to secret places in nature. Spaces where no one, not even a creature made of Magic, could go. They were accessible to those who wanted to make use of them, however, if one possessed the knowledge of how to reach into them. A known name among those who had read of such places was Forget-Me-Not.

Netta knew of this Forget-Me-Not because Ash had shown it to her one day, during an adventure they had gone on together.

The first time Netta had banished Ash lead her to the decision that she needed to use the small pit where no sunlight had ever managed to penetrate the darkness of. Like most memories, especially those that were of Ash or the various members of her once-Coven, the memory of her lonesome walk to where the pit was felt, to Netta, like it were a memory that belonged to someone else, or was some narrative that she had read. Had not herself experienced.

Much of her life, before the moment she had gotten on her knees and stuck her head to the pit, truly existed in a half-life to Netta after she had withdrawn from it. She could view the traumas and even the happiness of the girl whose memories she still retained, but could not feel what the girl had felt.

Netta had given her memories to the Forget-Me-Not, had painstakingly told the cold shadows she found down there everything that would only grow in weight on her heart until it would break. She knew, even in her broken state, that she was not strong enough to withstand the pain of it alone. She told the pit not only of the cold memories of her family, but also the hot ones of a boy who's hand burned her own when she held tightly onto it.

She did not know when she had stopped talking, but Netta became aware at some point that she no longer needed to speak, for her mind was like a tapped tree and the shadows greedily supped on her emotions until she had grown cold. Could stagger out of the desert, alone, with a fresh start that she had made by divorcing herself from the emotions of her memories.

Unbelievably, Netta was left with having finished telling Ash the secret she had kept from him. Had managed to hide, even when Ash thought that he could see everything that she had in her mind.

Netta had no sooner that caught a breath, turned away, than she felt Ash jerking her, spinning her around to face him. As her eyes traveled up, up past his chest, his neck, until she fell on his face, Netta felt her breath catch in her throat.

Netta could tell, even without penetrating into his thoughts, that this was something that Ash was completely blindsided by. His pupils blown wide, eyes not remaining still as he seemed to search, desperate, for sense, context, vivid, unfocused green irises moving like the tail of Calliope's cat clock, back, forth. She could feel as he instinctively groped with his mind, the impression was like a great many hands sliding against her mind as though looking for purchase, a place to slide into.

What he did next blindsided Netta. Ash gazed down, the sweep of his eyelashes lowering over his stolen eyes. The tremble that began there - and seemed to spread to his lips - barely registered with his voice as he spoke, softly, the rough rasp almost seeming to tenderly burr. "You can have your memories returned to you if you ask it to, then tilt your head, listen carefully to everything you hear."

Netta gazed away from him, the sense of shame she felt from witnessing Ash's bare - what, shame, sorrow? - too much to stand. She walked to the hole, then dropped to her knees before it.

As she moved, Netta wondered at the decision she had made so long ago. Witches were privy to truths that Humans were barely starting to grasp after themselves, one of which was that emotions influenced a body immensely. With this knowledge, Netta knew, even when she was young, that she could not withstand the weight of the sorrow and pain she had gone through, begin to build a life for herself, alone. She believed, still, that what she had done was for her own good -

But for the first time, Netta thought differently about the young girl who had fallen to her knees in front of the hole. She wondered what she would have found, if she had instead called the wretched thing that she had felt so betrayed by, back. Had instead wordlessly wrapped her arms around It - him - and had told him that she could learn to understand him, if he meant to understand her as well.

The snow glanced off of the edges of the pit, a pure white blanket surrounding a perfectly oblong shadow that seemed to have been carved into it. Netta stared into it for a moment, then hesitated before she leaned into the pit, requested that her memories be returned to her.

Netta turned her head, allowing the voices to speak tales without beginnings or endings.

Netta didn't know how long she sat on the ground, only that she snapped to attention as the last voice had spoken its tale to her. As they had been speaking to her, Netta felt numb, the role she was in was simply the listener. As soon as the last voice had faded away, giving the last piece of what she had torn out of herself back, Netta felt everything from the first eighteen years of her life like it were a train barreling through her.

Netta gasped, her body contorting, her mind possessed by a thousand emotions, impressions, recollections. She seized with the powerful ones, her world becoming one of smearing, bleeding, vivid colors. It was physically painful and her head pounded, her limbs twitching, writhing, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

For what felt like the longest moment, all Netta could do was thrash as she struggled with the simple act of coping with the impression of so many memories, and the emotions that accompanied them, flooding into her. The lack of focus ended, however, when she felt hands falling on her, taking hold of her shoulders.

Netta heard his voice, finally cracked, broken, and then heard as he started to sob uncontrollably into the ear that she had not pressed into the Forget-Me-Not. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, forgive me, forgive me..."

Memory of Ash's presence honed the emotions, turned them into unbearably sharp edges. A thousandfold impressions flooded through Netta, until her body became the puppet of old feelings that had never been allowed a release. She cried out, flung her hand up, roughly grabbed onto the back of Ash's head. She twined her fingers there, dug, then screamed as she held his face close to hers.

The anger, the sorrow, the painfully overwhelming desire, and the sense of betrayal, all fought with each other for supremacy. She was blind, only vaguely aware of having pressed Ash's rough face to hers, had begun to pant as she struggled to regain her breath.

All was silent for only a moment.

Netta howled, claimed his lips in a rough kiss he did not return, then rose to bite his brow, mashed her face blindly against his chin, his cheeks. She shook, was blind, only barely aware of texture and taste as she ravaged his face. The man she was kissing, licking, biting like she was rabid, tasted like sweat and fur, smelled like dying flames. She hated him, desired him, coveted so much about him. Loved him.

And through it all, she became aware of his voice like a soft metronome, repeating the same phrase over and over. I'm sorry, please forgive me.

She reached up, grabbed hold of horn and hair, forced his mouth to hers as she kissed. In that moment, she wanted immolation and made her intent to him known to Ash, grinding her body against his.

Ash mouth hung open limply and he did not return Netta's embrace. As she continued to ravage his mouth, Netta felt her anger growing in her, desperation clawing, rending. Finally, she stopped, barking the same word over and over. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Ash had been silent as she tried to kiss him, and as she died down with her chant, he said, "No, not now. Let it out, take everything from me except that. I can't give you what will hurt you."

Netta did not know how much longer she spent, grasping, crawling, sliding her body against Ash's, would only later remember barking at him, "Why - it never stopped you before!"

When she began to regain her mental abilities, Netta heard whimpering and realized, dully, that it was from deep in her own throat that it originated. She looked up, wanting instinctively to gaze at the night sky. Instead of the sky, what she saw was the bruised, swollen face of the man who cradled her in the snow.

Netta felt her breath leave her lungs. The emotions that had been tied to her youth was beginning to settle into a place in her mind that was less raw and potent. Gone was much of the haze that dulled her mental processes.

She didn't know when she began to speak, not aloud, but directly to him. How long have I been... She waited for Ash to answer her, for his sarcastic voice to come.

He sighed, eyes closing wearily. As long as it needed to happen.

Ash, I - I'm sorry, I don't know what I was - what I wanted to do.

A ghost of a smile on his lips and Ash shook his head. Judging by what I just saw, you wanted to kill me and fuck me. Not necessarily exclusively.

Netta tried to censor her surprise at the fact that Ash had not taken advantage of her, but was not quick enough to stop it. Once she had established a mental connection with him, Ash could read her mind without even meaning to.

He re-opened his eyes, finally looked down at Netta. In case you needed clarification: you in severe mental distress is not my idea of sexual ambrosia. He paused and gave a weary sigh. Take it easy, I'll admit that I knew that there was something wrong with you, but I thought you'd just hidden these feelings deep inside of yourself. I've been meaning to get deeper inside of there, find them myself, try to help you heal from them. I never suspected you'd be foolish enough to... He trailed off, coughing. I'm sorry, I don't have the right to say that. You had to survive somehow, and you had to sacrifice your innocence to do it.

Netta gazed at him, and perhaps it was the effect of the powerful emotions that were beginning to abate, but she was overcome with everything, every moment that she had ever spent, with the man who was holding her.

She said it deliberately, meaning it in that moment more than she had ever felt in all of her life, her past anger and sorrow only further highlighting its truth. I loved you, but that's nothing, there's no comparison, to how I strongly I feel for you, now.

Ash brought her close to him, pressing her to his chest. It's okay. You don't need to give me assurances. I don't deserve them - I'm the true definition of what my kind are called. I've only ever hurt the innocent, stolen what I've wanted and didn't earn. We have a long time for you to decide if you're truly comfortable with giving your heart to me. I've decided - I'm done pretending to be what I'm not. You've always been right. I'm no man, I'm a Monster.

Netta closed her eyes, pressed her face to his massive chest. She was weary, true, but what she had undergone had only drawn to a tight, painful focus what she felt, knew. She said, Yes, you're no man. You're beyond mankind, such a distinction is... insulting to you.

She felt as the breath hitched in Ash's chest, fought the urge to dive into his thoughts. Finally, he turned Netta in his arms, brought a hand to the back of her hair, drew heavy fingers through her hair tenderly. His whole body shook gently, and Netta was distracted by the thought of what emotion it was that caused the seismic activity in his limbs, his chest.

He said, I've misused your trust, your innocence, contorted your heart until it almost ripped. In his mind, even his voice shook with the emotion that Netta could finally identify. Fear.

Netta pulled away, raising a hand behind her head, her much smaller fingers interlacing through the hot, broad weight of his. She gazed into Ash's face, looked into eyes that were like green lagoons so deep that she thought she could sink into the furthest darkness of them and never find a bottom.

She said, We have our whole lives after we've finished what we've come back here to do, and no matter what happens, you don't get to act as though you can take back something like what we share.