𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 -- 𝐉𝐨𝐣𝐢
              𝟎𝟎3: Get Better or Get Over It
                   (𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚, Stay Ready)

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 was such a beautiful thing. It was what Moon liked to credit for the slow restoration of Zaun. Life was getting better for the Undercity and its inhabitants. The air, though still heavy with the tang of metal and shimmer, was beginning to clear. The people—formerly hollow-eyed and weary—were smiling again, sharing scraps of hope that seemed to grow with each passing day. Streets that once echoed only with the sound of scuffles and desperation now held whispers of laughter, of children playing. Vander's bar was bustling once more, no longer just a refuge but a hub of community.

And with Zaun's healing, so too was Moon.

Moon didn't believe in therapy.

Actually, you'd find very few people in the Undercity who did. Talking about pain wasn't something most Zaunites had the luxury to do—pain was a constant, an uninvited guest they had simply learned to live with. But Moon's inability to eat without flinching or forcing herself, her aversion to certain smells and sounds, her tense, haunted stares whenever anyone accidentally touched her wrists... those were things that couldn't be ignored.

Her time in the brothel had left scars—some visible, some buried so deep they felt impossible to reach. Vander had tried to help, offering his steady presence, his reassurances, his patience. Powder and Vi had tried too, with their endless enthusiasm and attempts to distract her with games and stories. But the gaps in Moon's armor never fully mended, and her family began to realize that their love wasn't enough to undo the damage.

So, as strange and foreign as it seemed, Vander made the call. Moon needed help, real help, and there was a lovely therapist in Topside willing to work with her for free.

"Let me get this straight."

Moon sat perched on the bar counter, arms crossed tightly against her chest. Her four-inch heeled boots—stubbornly impractical for Zaun's uneven streets—slowed their rhythmic kicking as she furrowed her brows at Vander. The boots were a small rebellion, a way to compensate for the burden of not growing very tall, one of many reminders of her malnourished past. Her tone was sharp, her words tumbling out in quick succession.

"Powder and Vi's parents being murdered doesn't warrant them going to therapy, but me being sexually exploited since I was six does? How is that fair?"

Vander paused mid-wipe, the glass in his hand catching the faint amber glow of the bar lights. He raised an eyebrow, a bewildered smile tugging at his lips as he looked up at his daughter. "Do you hear yourself right now?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with amusement.

Moon glared, unfazed. "I'm just saying," she huffed, "there's enough trauma to go around. I'm not the only one who's messed up."

Vander sighed, setting the glass down gently. "Moon," he said, his tone softening as he leaned against the counter. "It's not a competition."

"So why don't we all get therapy?" Moon shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The whole family—make it an outing! Could be fun."

"Because you're the only one who hasn't recovered," Vander said evenly, his eyes locking with hers. "Vi and Powder... they didn't skip meals, don't push food around their plates like it's the enemy. Mylo can be touched without breaking into a panic attack. Claggor... he doesn't flinch every time someone raises their voice or hides his hands like they've got something to be ashamed of."

He paused, his voice softening further. "But you can't, MoMo. And I'm not trying to single you out, love, I just think you could use a little more help."

Vander's voice cut through the silence like a blade, each word deliberate and heavy. "And you just lost Vi. You claimed to have gotten better, but you still don't think you belong here."

Moon stiffened, her breath catching slightly as she looked at Vander. His steady gaze held hers, unflinching, and his words struck closer to the heart than she cared to admit.

"Ekko told me," Vander added, his tone quieter now, but just as piercing.

Moon didn't know how to respond. Part of her wanted to deny it, to push away the idea that she was still struggling with the same doubts she had carried since the day she lost Vi. But the truth was, Vander was right. No matter how much she tried to convince herself she had moved on, she still felt like a ghost in a world that was never quite meant for her.

"That little snitch—" Moon started, crossing her arms with a scowl.

"And I'm glad he did," Vander interrupted, his tone firm but kind. "He just really cares about you. We all do. We just want to see you get better. Is that alright?"

Moon hesitated, her glare softening as she shifted uncomfortably on the counter. "I don't know if I can," she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to do it all at once," Vander replied, his expression gentle but unwavering. "But you gotta let us help you take that first step. Just meet with Dr. Yarrow—she's a very nice lady."

He placed a steady hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding. "Do it for me, okay? I just don't want you to suffer anymore. Just two hours, once a week. That's all I'm asking."

Moon glanced down at his hand, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Fine," she muttered, her voice reluctant. "But only because you asked."

Vander smiled, the relief evident in his eyes. "That's all I needed to hear, Mouse."

"Where's MoMo?" Ekko asked, letting the gadget in his hand clatter onto the workbench as his gaze swept around Powder's hideout. Moon had no particular interest in gadgets or science like her siblings, but she always seemed to enjoy lounging in the corner while they tinkered, perched on her designated fluffy green bean bag, lost in her sketches.

Powder didn't even glance up, too engrossed in sketching out her latest design—a pollution-clearing device she had been obsessively tweaking for weeks. "Oh, Vander didn't tell you?" she said casually, her pencil scratching across the paper. "Thought he would've, since he got the idea after talking to you."

Ekko quirked an eyebrow at her, a silent nudge to keep going.

"MoMo's starting therapy," Powder said matter-of-factly, her tone betraying no hint of surprise. "She's up in Topside right now."

Ekko blinked, the words taking a moment to register. "Therapy?" he repeated, the disbelief evident in his voice.

"Yep." Powder blew a strand of hair out of her face, still focused on her sketch. "Apparently, Vander thought it was time. Said something about how you mentioned she hadn't been sleeping and is back to trying to throw herself off rooftops."

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. "He... Wait. That's why?"

Powder finally looked up, raising a knowing eyebrow at him. "You told Vander, didn't you? What did you think he'd do, Ekko? Just pat you on the back and ignore it?"

Ekko frowned, his shoulders slumping as guilt began to creep in. "I wasn't trying to get her sent to some Topside doctor," he muttered. "I just... thought he should know."

"Well, now he knows," Powder said simply, going back to her work. "And honestly? It's probably good for her. Mouse has been carrying a lot of stuff for a long time. Maybe this'll help. I mean none of us know much about her time at the brothel, none of us even know what happened to her parents. Not even Vander. She needs this. Can't live with that kind of weight forever."

Ekko didn't respond immediately, his gaze drifting to the empty green bean bag in the corner. He wasn't sure if Moon would agree with Powder's optimism.

"When will she be back?" Ekko questioned, his voice quieter now, eyes still fixed on the empty green bean bag.

Powder shrugged, barely pausing in her work. "Um, Vander mentioned it briefly at breakfast. Two-hour sessions, once a week. She left right after eating, so..." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "I wanna say she's on her way back right now. Dr. Yarrow promised Vander she'd always have her back by lunch."

Ekko nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. The thought of Moon being up in Topside, alone with some stranger, made his stomach twist. Sure, he'd heard Dr. Yarrow was kind—Vander wouldn't have sent Moon if she wasn't—but it still felt... off. Like Moon didn't belong there. Like she should've been here, curled up on that bean bag, drawing something amazing while Powder and Ekko tinkered away.

"You okay, Ekko?" Powder's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Yeah," he lied, picking the gadget back up and turning it over in his hands. "I'm fine."

Powder watched Ekko closely, her eyes narrowing slightly as she noticed the discomfort flickering across his face. She set down her pen and turned to him, her usual playful demeanor softening for a moment.

"Hey," she said gently, "I know you're worried about her, but this is for the better, okay?" She paused, giving him a moment to meet her gaze. "Moon's got a lot to work through, stuff that she's been carrying for way too long. Therapy will help her get there—get over those things and... maybe even learn to grieve better." She hesitated, her fingers twitching as she thought about her own emotions. "I mean, look at me," she added, her voice thick with grief but steady. "I'm still trying to figure it out myself. Losing Vi? I don't think I'll ever fully get over it. But... we need to heal. We all do."

Ekko opened his mouth to say something, but Powder beat him to it.

"And for what it's worth," she continued, her tone softening further, "this isn't just about Moon. It's about all of us. We're all broken, in one way or another. But we have to fix what we can. We're family, Ekko. It's the only way we're gonna move forward. Together."

Ekko absorbed her words in silence, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. He didn't have an answer, but he knew she was right. This was for Moon, yes. But it was for all of them. And somehow, that made it easier to accept.

"So why aren't you in therapy too?" Ekko asked, a bit of disbelief creeping into his voice.

Powder smirked, the usual spark in her eyes dimming slightly. "Oh, I don't buy into that stuff," she replied with a shrug, though her tone lacked its usual carefree edge. "I don't think talking about it's gonna fix anything. Maybe some people need it, but not me."

"So you don't think Moon will get anything out of this?" Ekko asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Powder's expression hardened slightly, her gaze turning distant. "Moon was forced to be prostitute since she turned six," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "She's got a lot to work through. Therapy... it's not gonna fix everything, but it's help. She needs to process what happened to her. We all do. But it's not something you can just rush through."

"But you don't believe in therapy?" "Absolutely not. Not for me anyways."

Sure enough, just like Dr. Yarrow had promised, Moon bounded through the doors of the Last Drop, her expression unreadable.

She wouldn't tell them how it went. She wouldn't offer Vander the satisfaction of seeing his suspicions confirmed. So, instead, she slid into the seat next to Ekko, her presence a quiet comfort in the bustling bar.

Vander didn't let it slide that easily, though. He placed a sandwich in front of her, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of emotion, of change. He stood there, his gaze expectant, almost as if waiting for her to admit something.

Moon stared at the sandwich for a moment before picking it up, examining it without uttering a word.

Vander remained in his spot, his silent scrutiny unyielding. The tension hung in the air between them like a weight.

Finally, with a quiet sigh, Moon muttered, "I'll go next week." Her voice was soft, but the weight of her words lingered in the air like smoke.

Vander nodded, offering no further comment as he moved toward the bar to pour her a drink. It was his way of saying, I'm proud of you, without embarrassing her by actually saying it aloud. Across the table, Claggor beamed, his grin wide and unrestrained.

"I'll take it," he said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied nod. "That went well, then."

Moon shrugged noncommittally, peeling apart her sandwich to pluck a slice of cucumber. She chewed slowly, her gaze fixed on some indeterminate spot on the table. "It went fine," she replied after a moment, her tone teetering between honesty and exhaustion. "She said I should come back soon because I refused to talk to her for the entire session... and then dumped everything on her in the last five minutes."

"That sounds about right," Mylo muttered, not looking up from where he was fiddling with a small gadget.

Moon shot him a sharp look but didn't dignify the comment with a response. Claggor chuckled, nudging her shoulder gently.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer now, "you went, didn't you? That's the hard part. The rest'll come."

"Sure," she said, still toying with the now-empty sandwich, her fingers pulling at the crust. But there was the faintest curve of a smile tugging at her lips—a quiet acknowledgment that she'd taken the first step.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒!

READ CAN'T CATCH ME BEFORE THIS BOOK. I cannot stress that enough. Moon is still 14. Ekko is still 15. Moon and Ekko were 13 and 15 in the first chapter