Hours later, when Midge cleaned the room and its usual inhabitant, he lumbered down the hall, his clothes rolled up into a ball before him. As he stared at the remnants of what used to be a damn good uniform, he told himself it didn't matter, he still had three more at home. Besides, it was for Lydia.

He found Lydia in the kitchen where he'd left her. Everything in Midge screamed to be away from this place and washed thoroughly, but he had to see about Lydia.

The way she sat slumped made Midge's heart pang. Midge wrestled with formulating a proper greeting. Lydia sat deep in thought, so rather than disturb her, Midge resolved to find a shower—any shower. He wanted to be fast about it, too.

His eyes drifted down to his clothes as he traveled the long hall. He threw the uniform out—it would only serve as a terrible reminder of the day. It was eerie stepping into Lydia's bedroom, but as expected, he found a well-stacked shower. He hoped Lydia would forgive the imposition.

The idea of running around naked wasn't appealing and hadn't occurred to Midge until he exited the bathroom and entered the kitchen. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he met up on Lydia who held a fresh pair of clothes.

Her hands shook as she held them out. Midge looked down at the shirt and trousers, more than certain they wouldn't fit.

His thoughts consumed him to such an extent that he didn't realize how well his facial expression was studied. As he tried to formulate a proper reply, Lydia whispered, "Not everything in here is dirty. You don't have to make a face like that."

Midge's head snapped up to regard her.

"N-no, of course not," he muttered. "But...I really should get my own things."

Lydia pinched her lips together; she was about to cry any minute. The look on her face was slowly tearing Midge apart, so he sighed and lowered the bath towel from around his hips.

He knew it was useless to try the clothes on, but he did so in an attempt to prove a point.

The result was terrible. The shirt was too short, and the pants couldn't even make it midway up.

Lydia took the clothes back, clenching them at her chest. She shed a tear and swore under her breath. "But they're twice my size. Damn. Damn. Damn." After a thick sob, she rubbed her face with the fabric.

Moving quietly, Midge took the shirt back and draped it around his waist. "I bet you're hungry," he said, stepping past Lydia to tap the wall.

Out of the entire house, the kitchen was surprisingly clean, as if it had been frozen in time. Midge took it upon himself to open every panel, looking for something to eat. He waited for Lydia to say something but the young noblewoman afforded him no such courtesy.

"Are you hungry?" Midge asked again.

The eerie silence prompted him to look back at Lydia who watched the table.

Her glazed expression reminded Midge of someone who'd taken a hit and needed time to recover. Rather than startle her, Midge closed the space between them.

"Did you hear me?"

Lydia stared through him.

Midge reached out to stroke the somber woman's right cheek with his thumb. One tear fell, but Lydia turned her head, successful in staving off any others.

Rather than ask yet again, Midge resolved to leave Lydia with her pride. Lydia answered most grief with physical touch. She didn't seem interested in it now though.

The house was stacked well, with more than enough raw materials to feed the family for a year. That was interesting. Some jars of simple matter even lined the cupboards. Midge hadn't expected to see Yules with matter like that. It was usually something weak E's were forced to eat. It was a godsend, though, because it would be fast to form and easy to season.

"I left her alone," Lydia muttered. "It's because of me she lost it."

Midge worked fast, gathering up as much raw materials as he could. An investigation of the menu told him the household had a large surplus of food credits, maybe years' worth.

In no time at all, Midge had two well stacked plates in hand. Lydia looked up from the table though her rigid posture remained.

It was a chore to get everything to fit on the table. With how well-equipped the kitchen was, Midge only needed to make a few things using heat. Their replicator was state-of-the-art.

"Wait till you see how it tastes." Midge glanced back at her, desperate for Lydia to say something. "I worked as a cook for three months last year. Who knew it'd come in handy?"

Midge sat, putting down the last of the meal. Rather than eat, they both stared at it.

"I left her alone. Fucking around in the Lower-Levels with you.... I should have been here." Lydia stared at the table, never moving a muscle. "That's me. Hiding from reality in a Lower-Levels hotel, daydreaming at the thought of running away with you." When Lydia chuckled, her voice cracked. "I don't even gaw-ro know you."

Midge found himself watching the table as well.

"And I came back here, ready for a fight. Ready to cuss her out. To give the crazy fuck a piece of my mind." Another tear traveled down the length of Lydia's nose and fell.

Midge felt stupid as he looked at the food. It was a bad move. That wasn't what Lydia needed—he had no idea what Lydia needed.

"I never took any credits from Abraham. I want that to be clear. I never took a single credit." Hands still in her lap, Lydia sat rigid. "And I told her, I told Dizzy I didn't like that school. And I told her...I told her...." Lydia swallowed down a sob. "I told her. I told her he was hurting me, and she said that it's normal in art. That I only have to work harder and things would be easy and I could come home."

In the dim light, Midge felt sorry for Lydia. He felt even sorrier for himself because he was utterly useless to her.

"If I just tried harder, it'd be fine and I wouldn't have to go back." Silence lulled over them for some time before Lydia chuckled through the tears. "That dumb bitch." She shook her head. "She was too high to care and I was too stupid to know what was happening, but I'll tell you one thing...."

Picking her head up, Lydia stared at him and Midge could see the pure hate and loathing there.

"I tell you one gaw-ro thing, I never went back. I made sure every gaw-ro score I had was good, better than anybody else's. I earned my way. And I never went back. And whatever the fuck you think of me, you better know that I never took a credit for any of it. Not even once!"

Still seated, Midge flinched when plates, meal and all, cascaded to the floor with a brush of Lydia's hand.

Making that meal was a mistake, Midge concluded, but destroying it might give Lydia some satisfaction.

Each breath Lydia took made her tremble worse than before.

As suddenly as the outburst came, it stopped.

Lydia lowered her gaze, maybe to take in the mess. "I never took anything for it. I threw every gift away. So whatever you think—"

"I'll never judge you," Midge said, cutting off her meek protest. "I can promise you nothing more than that. Till the end of time, you can know that if there is one thing you can expect from me, it's to never be judged. I'll never judge you."

"No. You'll just scorn me," Lydia said. "And you'll turn up your nose at me. But it's alright. That's the way it is with puppets, with any toy."

Midge returned her gaze. "You're not a toy."

"You didn't say anything." Lydia's red eyes misted yet again. "You let your brother chew me up and spit me out. And you said nothing!"

"What should I have said?" Midge barked. "What the hell did you expect me to say? What could I have said to you?"

"Then you agreed with him—"

"Of course I did!" Midge's breath hitched and he stopped himself from yelling again. "You give yourself no value. You go to people who give you none and then you wallow in it. And it's easy to see it, and it's easy to know because it's the same gaw-ro thing I do, and I do it because I can't stand the thought of myself."

Lydia didn't even blink.

"I wasn't supposed to be born. I came out ten minutes after Queen and nearly killed my mother in the process. I've been playing catch up since then, trying to prove my worth. Ten years. My twin went to ground for ten gaw-ro years because of me. And what do I do in that time? Not a damn thing. My little brother got poached because of me, because I lost track of him." Tears stung Midge's eyes. "Nobody sees. I'm big, so I've gotta fight all my battles alone. And you wait for it. The same way you waited for Joshua to save you at that fake raid, the same way you wait for everybody else to make it better. What Queenie said was awful, but it was awful because it was true. It was awful because you knew it was true. Maybe not about the debt, but you knew damn well what happened to you. Yet you're waiting for someone to come and save your day. Well save your damn self!"

As small as Lydia was, her slap was forceful.

They stared at each other a moment longer. Lydia struck him again, and again. Midge sat there, taking blow after blow until Lydia finally tired.

Breathing ragged, they sat staring at one another in the ringing silence.

Midge tugged at Lydia's shirt. When she fell into his lap, pulling her close, he tightened his grip as well.

***

Lydia never really got her way in most things, so she expected Midge to take off once they'd calmed. She wanted Midge to stay, so she made sure and not ask him to. Not many people would stick around taking care of the mess that was Lydia; no sense in dragging things out.

Midge moved sluggish as he held onto the back of the chair.

"What's wrong?" Lydia studied him.

"I need to sleep," Midge answered. "I...I keep too much energy penned up if I don't sleep and I haven't slept in days."

Lydia spirits sank. She'd offer her own bed but she knew how that sounded. No, she wasn't going back to old habits of drowning sorrows in a cheap encounter, but she knew how it sounded.

"I'll...." Lydia paused, terrified at the prospect of Midge leaving. "I'll bring some blankets here. You can nap...." She looked the kitchen over. "On the floor, I guess."

Eventually, Midge said, "I'd like that."

Lydia was fast to retrieve clean sheets. She must have looked foolish, but she resolved to make Midge a little bed in the kitchen; or at least an area where he could rest his head against the wall.

Everything looked perfect by the time Lydia finished.

Midge wouldn't budge. He also didn't let go of the chair. When their eyes met, he muttered, "I can't sleep on the ground. And I don't want to take your bed."

Lydia stared at him, stunned. "But you just said.... So you're leaving, then?"

"I don't want to leave you alone. When your mother wakes, you're going to have to figure out what to do. The medical section might be the best option right now because I'm pretty sure your mother's got an addiction to Mystic, and there's absolutely no cure for that."

Midge's breathing was labored, his grip on the chair firm, yet his words were what Lydia focused on.

"Thank you," Lydia said. When Midge wrinkled his brow, Lydia elaborated. "Thank you for calling her my mother. I've...I've kinda known for a while now, but...."

Nodding, Midge said, "I know. And I'm sorry, I really need to sleep. But I can't on the floor. And I'm not taking you to bed."

Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. "So what do you propose?"

A minute later, atop all the clean pillows and blankets she could find, Lydia held out her hands. Due to her size, she was sure Midge would laugh it off. Instead, Midge lay down, his head in Lydia's lap.

His big body, pale and bare save for the shirt around his waist, looked sweet curled up right there.

Midge fell asleep almost immediately, a gentle cooing as he snored. Lydia wasn't as fortunate. Instead, she stared at the mouth of the kitchen, wondering what she was supposed to do next.

After twenty minutes of watching Midge sleep, Lydia resolved to get up and get some diskettes. For one thing, she wanted to know what the hell Mystic was in greater detail. She crawled from under Midge, leaving the man with his head snugly against the wall.

It wasn't more than ten minutes later that Lydia returned with a bag in hand. The sight of Midge made her shriek.

The E remained fixed in the same spot where Lydia had left him. The cooing had stopped. He wasn't breathing. Lydia recognized it; the man had turned to stone.

Lydia fell to her knees, her eyes wide in awe. "Oh my gosh." She hovered her hands before Midge's face. Nothing—no breath. A gentle stroke of Midge's brow told her the E was solid. "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. I wasn't gone for long." Bringing her forehead to touch Midge's, Lydia fought back her upset. "I hadn't gone for long. I don't understand."

A long wheeze came, and a hand grabbed Lydia's shirt. Midge struggled to move.

With that, Lydia held Midge's face, her own body trembling. She shed a tear. "I shouldn't have left you. I shouldn't have left."

"No...I'm okay. I'm just a little tired," Midge whispered.

"All E's turn to stone when they get tired?"

Groaning, Midge closed his eyes though he struggled to keep his head up. "We do in distress. Come below me, please, I can't move."

It'd be madness to maneuver under him to regain their original positioning. If Midge turned to stone, Lydia would be trapped. All the same, Lydia did as the man requested. She felt warm flesh when Midge rested again, his hands hugging Lydia's legs.

"Sorry I scared you. You have a lot going on right now as is. This is the last thing you need. But I just don't want to leave you alone," Midge confessed.

Kissing his brow, Lydia said, "I'm here." She smoothed the E's hair. "I'm here with you. Whatever you're distressed about...it'll get better."

Midge made a sound in the back of his throat. "Sure."

They stayed like that until Lydia said, "You asked me back in the Lower-Levels if I wished I could just run away...that's what you wish, too?"

Midge was so quiet he might have fallen asleep again. Finally, he muttered, "Each and every single day."

Times like these, Lydia would call on her trusty inhaler but she felt steady sitting there under her E.

"Here. I wanna show you something." It was luck that she found this film still affixed to the wall by Milton's room. She told herself that her father left it there to be admired, and not because he'd thrown it away. "Look. It's even made of the old film stuff."

Lydia unrolled the plastic and tried to put it against the wall. She shifted it up, then to the side but it was to no avail.

"Give me a sec."

"You need power to run it," Midge said. He put his hand on the wall and blew a mock kiss. "Here, try it now. There's a sensor vein right here."

When the film lit up, Lydia smiled. "There. You can see her. That's my mom."

"Wow," Midge muttered. He laughed and pointed at a blond figure in the background. "And look at that Lowlander, looking all big and outta place."

Using her thumb, Lydia traced Milton's face and said, "That's my father." She pointed down at Stella, but this was the first time she didn't feel embarrassed about acknowledging her. "And this is my other mom."

Stella held Midge's interest for some time before he met eyes with Lydia. "She's beautiful, too. Under all that hair, I mean."

A small smile peeked through Lydia's unease but failed to mature. "Yeah. That's them." Putting her head against the wall, she tried to hold onto that small sense of pride, but it dulled in time. "They look so happy. I wish I could see them this happy, even once."

Midge glanced at the picture again. "What's your real mom like?"

"She doesn't talk much. Not that she can. Dizzy always felt threatened. I guess next time I'll have to decide for myself." Lydia sat up when a thought occurred to her. "How did you know the guy on here was a Lowlander?"

Still supported on his elbows, Midge shrugged. "His pose. Lowlanders always draw attention to the sash by holding it with both index fingers. I had to laugh because even without it, he's posing that way, too, huh? Pan does it in every damn picture. It's annoying." He pointed to another man. "And him, too."

Lydia spotted the pattern and chuckled as she pointed. "And that one." Curiosity got the better of her as she found two more. "Wow. I didn't know theaters hired this many Lowlanders."

Midge's smile faded. "They usually don't. Even the stage hands are trained from the main area. The Lower-Levels specializes in fighters, not artists. Heh, maybe that's why everyone around them looks about ready to run," he joked.

"Yeah. Kinda reminds me of Joshua's raid." Lydia ran her fingers through Midge's hair. "But at least I met you." When Midge colored, she leaned in to take a kiss. "Nicest robbery I ever got."

"Stop calling it a robbery," Midge muttered. "None of it was a robbery; even the real raid wasn't a gaw-ro robbery."

He closed his mouth too late.

Lydia squinted. "What's that mean?"

Midge knelt, finally. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

"Please tell me because it's been driving me nuts. If E's love credits enough to risk war...."

"It's not the E's that love credits. It's their Assists. But all the E's in this one were rogues, meaning no masters got charged with the crimes. So ask yourself, why the hell would E's break in to rob nobles?"

Lydia shrugged. "Maybe they were looking for something. You know, like you were."

"Well, nine dead bodies later, they did at least find what they were looking for. I wasn't as lucky." Sitting, Midge said, "And I won't get another chance either. I have to take care of my little brother. I'm taking on too much power and it'll be my turn to go to ground soon. It'll be ten years before I can come back again, and he might not last another ten. Killing his poacher is the only way to heal him, and I can't find the bastard. Maybe I'll see you at the other end of ten years. Where do you plan to go with your hundred and twenty-five years of credits?"

Lydia lowered her gaze.

"I've gotta take care of Dizzy. She might not be my mother, but she deserves to live out the rest of her life with dignity. I can't just turn her over to the medics and not look back."

Midge wrinkled his brow. "Why not?"

"What?"

"Why do you gotta take care of her? I mean, my little brother's my blood. I get that. But she's nothing to you. You've admitted it yourself that she's...she's hurt you. So why are you obligated?"

Lydia leaned back. "She was neglectful and high, not evil. And it's not just for her. I wouldn't let anyone die like that—"

"You're not the one letting them die like that! They did it to themselves." Midge pointed at the open doorway. "She took on an E she couldn't control. And she did it for years." Midge calmed as he said, "That's what Mystic is. It's that little buzz you get from touching an E intimately, and you get it at an E's expense. Assists that can sync can't abuse it because there's no pain. And now that her E's gone, she's losing it. That's not your fault. That's not your debt to pay."

"Are you saying my father's an E?" Lydia stared at Midge open mouthed. "But I can hug him...."

"DNA. We have absolutely no reaction from our own DNA. You're an Assist. All Assists are low-power E's in a sense." He glanced at the picture again and shook his head. "And no, he's no damn E." Bringing down a digit on Stella's face, he said, "There's your E."

Lydia's eyes widened.

"Look at the picture. What's the first thing you notice about everybody on stage?"

It took a moment for realization to dawn. "They're wearing shoes."

"An E in a theater; that's never a good thing. Especially one that seems willing, so I'm wondering what the hell this one's doing there and surrounded by Lowlander thugs no less. They don't have to be physically intimate to enhance sensations and thoughts. And this E did this willfully. Whatever the falling out was, they've dumped their shit on you. They've made their mess. When is it okay for you to make yours?"

"Says the man who didn't hurt his kid brother but can't seem to get that through his head," Lydia quipped.

As Midge swallowed hard, Lydia caught sight of a red beam dancing along the ceiling. This time she didn't even react.

"A Cleaner." Midge gasped. Fighting off fatigue, he dragged himself up to stand. "Stand up."

Lydia looked up at him. "What?"

"Stand the fuck up," Midge whispered. "Your house is being cleaned."

"Huh?" Lydia focused on the light. "The System cleans it—"

"This isn't the System. The cleaning protocols in the System have been dead for decades. Someone's coming. Do you have a weapon somewhere?"

"What? No. I don't have any weapons."

A bang came from the front door and Midge froze.

Lydia looked to the hallway and Midge caught her by the collar before she could go to investigate like an idiot.

"No. Don't move." Midge's breathing grew heavy as he scanned the room, maybe for a possible weapon. "Is there an emergency stunner or something somewhere?"

Mouth hanging open, Lydia said, "Mr. Osbourne, it's just the guards."

Midge pulled Lydia behind him and clenched his fists. "Shit."

The banging grew louder then stopped. Midge described himself as no hero—Lydia did believe that—but despite all that, he put himself between Lydia and the doorway.

Midge shook even as Lydia took refuge behind him. "I won't be able to fight in a house with a cleaner in place. One sudden outburst of energy from me, and that cleaner will lay me on my ass. Shit, shit," Midge muttered.

Voices closed in and his heart pounded so strongly Lydia could feel each thud.

"Just stay behind me. No matter what, "Midge said.

A flood of people in black shirts and gray pants spilled into the hall. It was the guards. That wasn't as surprising as who headed them.

Queen stepped into the doorway. He took one look at Lydia and Midge and sighed. "Fuck. Of all the places to find you...."