Chapter Text
It's incredible how much of a difference a few moments can make.
Magnus nudged open the door to Lucretia’s room with his elbow, gripping his newest creation in both hands. He noticed how distant Lucretia became these past weeks. Though none of the seven were unaffected by the troubles they currently faced, as the rest of the crew paired off (Barry and Taako forming one pair and Davenport and Merle as another) Lucretia fled inward and retreated to uncharacteristic silence that was unseen after the first few cycles when the crew had finally allowed themselves to grow close. It was in these past weeks Magnus decided he wouldn't let the woman who he considered his sister forget that she wasn't alone in this struggle.
In these past weeks Magnus has hosted two nail painting sessions
‘You know this color looks great on you’ ,
five movie nights
‘Remember that film we saw from cycle 16?’ ‘Barry and I saw this movie while it was your turn to stay on board. It's terrible, we should mock it together’ ,
and made plenty of meals that he brought to her when he saw she hadn't left her room in a while
‘You can't just eat from your pgorp stash; you need food, Luce’
He fidgets in his hands a gift he’s been eager to bring her since he first noted her strange behavior. It’s taken him a week of work, but it’s one of the best damn ducks he's made if he says so himself. He smiles as the door swings open. He can’t help it as he thinks of the care he took to make the duck in her likeness. It has her hair with one of her favorite quills sat over where an ear would be, and it wore her IPRE jacket the same way she did along with dashes of color painted across the pockets for the scraps of colorful paper she kept for notes or doodles that struck her suddenly. On the bottom he carved her name alongside a smiley face (He misses her smile).
The door completes its swing. The smile falls. Lucretia is standing on a stool against Fisher’s tank, clutching a blue book to her chest and staring intently at the open top. Not… what he was expecting but he can roll with it.
“That must have been a pretty awful book, huh?” the smile is coming back as he remembers a conversation from several cycles ago, a much happier moment:
‘That-- This can’t be allowed to hurt anyone else’
‘What are you suggesting we do? You aren't--’
‘No, I am saying we should let Fisher take it away forever into the void’
‘ Our dear Fisher? You’d force them to experience the same pain we have?’
A whole new bit was forming in his head until he saw the expression on her face. There's no way she'd look that guilty over un-existing a trashy novel. The gears in his head clunked as they took a shift to a different train of thought and before he could say anything she spoke, “Magnus, I’m so sorry”, and pushed the book--no, he knows what it is now. That's the journal Davenport got her a few cycles back. She pushed her journal into Fisher’s tank.
Magnus rushed forward, “Fisher, no! Wait!”, arm outstretched and reaching towards them. This wasn’t right. This was so very wrong. Above him Lucretia continues to apologize. He takes another step closer to Fisher--
~~~
Fisher however, is confused.
Lucretia was spending a lot more time with them, which was great! But she was stressed and unhappy, not great. Fisher watched as she dragged a stool to their tank and climbed up. She held a blue book in her arms and hummed them a tune from their home world. Fisher hummed back. She started talking, telling Fisher how it was important that they ate the book and the information inside it. They felt excited despite her nerves. A story! Fisher loves stories.
Fisher does not love the look on Magnus’ face when the story is put in their tank. Magnus told them to wait. Lucretia wants them to eat the story. Fisher doesn't like the panic, and opts to instead use a tendril to lob the book to Magnus.
~~~
It smacks him square in the face as he is a step away from the tank.
“Pphhft, ew and ow! Right in the mouth! I can taste your pee water, buddy. Thanks, but that was gross.”
Magnus shifts his grasp to hold the duck in one arm and Lucretia’s soggy journal on the other and he fixes her a glare.
“You won't be getting this,” he raises the arm holding the duck “until you tell me what kind of unauthorized meal you tried to sneak Fisher.”
She spoke softly-- gods , why is she speaking so softly, “At the conservatory, do you remember….” she sighs and begins to hum a quick tune.
Magnus blinked. “Uh--” And he remembered
Magnus blinks again and his jar drops. A student had attempted to cheat the system by making a simple, but catchy tune hoping the ‘light of creation’ would also find itself unable to part with its repetitiveness. It hadn’t worked. It was erased. Magnus remembers it. His stunned silence is broken by a soft groan. Magnus remembers it.
She attempts to deadpan her response, but emotion cracks through her final words, “You’ve joined me in my hell. I’ve had that stuck in my head on and off for decades.” Magnus looks at her, the way her face contorts with her words, how her fists ball up the fabric of her robe, and how she tilts her head in just the way that he knows she does when she's trying to hold back tears. He’s found what's been bothering her.
“Lucretia,” he starts, softer than before “what was in this journal?”