Chapter Text
“Am I a bad person for not wanting to see them?”
The question came out quietly, almost as if it weighed on her to say it out loud. Kinger turned toward the woman he loved, watching her in silence as she remained seated on the couch, a cup of coffee held between her hands that no longer seemed to matter to her. The steam continued to rise slowly, but she didn’t drink; she only held it, staring at the way the ripples curled upward.
Queenie hadn’t wanted to talk about anything for weeks, and he had respected that, even when the silence grew heavy. He had learned to read her gestures, to notice when she needed space and when she simply needed company, so he limited himself to being there, taking care of her without pressuring her, waiting.
“You’re not, sweetheart,” he replied softly, taking her hand carefully, as if even that contact had to be gentle. His fingers wrapped around her knuckles, stroking them slowly, with a steady tenderness that didn’t need big words. “They both know this is delicate for you. I’m sure that, in a few months, if we want to reconnect, they’ll welcome us with open arms.”
The topic wasn’t new, even if it had been avoided for weeks. They had distanced themselves from the Beaumonts right after the birth of the youngest, Jax, and even though they had tried, truly tried during the pregnancy, something in Queenie had been slowly breaking apart.
Every mention, every plan, every attempt to get closer ended in rejection or silence, and Kinger understood, even when it hurt. So he stopped insisting.
“…Aren’t you frustrated too?” she asked suddenly, turning toward him with a frown, her eyes shining with something more than sadness. There was anger there, contained, mixed with guilt. “It doesn’t matter how much money we have, or how many treatments we try… we just can’t do it. But they can.” Her voice cracked slightly, even though she tried to hold it together. “It’s unfair. And still… I’m happy for them. I really am. And I—”
“Of course I’m frustrated. And I know it’s not fair. None of this is.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, lowering his voice slightly. “But I also know that the only thing I want in this world is to be with you. To take care of you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re the problem, because you’re not. You didn’t choose this.”
Queenie looked at him in silence for a few seconds that felt long. And then she nodded, just barely, and the tears began to fall without her being able to stop them.
“I don’t know…” she murmured, bringing a hand to her face without fully managing to wipe away the tears. “It just… feels wrong. I adore Ribbit, I really do, but… I know that if I see Jax…”
“It’s not your fault to feel that way,” he replied immediately, without hesitation, not allowing her to blame herself more than necessary.
Carefully, he rested her against his shoulder, holding her gently while they both breathed deeply, their emotions too close to the surface, both of them simply sad. He was also happy for his friends—he truly was. They had wanted to be parents for so long that they had adopted Ribbit, and then, as if it were a miracle sent from heaven, Jax had appeared.
The family was at its best. And he couldn’t hate that.
But he did hate seeing Queenie like this.
“We don’t have to interact with Jax if you don’t want to. They’ll understand,” he reassured her, watching her clumsily wipe away her tears.
She looked at him, her eyes filled with doubt and concern. “Wouldn’t that be cruel?”
“Not if it’s to take care of yourself. Think of it this way, he already has a family that will love and take care of him, you need to take care of yourself too.” He gave her a kind and warm expression. His hands remained over hers, steady, present. “Let me take care of you, please.”
And she smiled at him, letting out a small laugh as they embraced again.
Jax would be fine. He was in a good family, with loving parents who had dreamed of him for years and a kind, intelligent sister.
And with time, the weight would become lighter.
Someday, they could go back.
They just had to wait.
The last few hours had been the most tense he had lived in years; he had never enjoyed fights or conflict between the people he considered his children. Especially Ragatha or Jax.
“I have some tea for your wounds and lots of food to help you feel better,” he said cheerfully as he approached the bed, lifting the tray to show it to Jax, who was sitting in the middle, staring into nothing.
His mind, blurry and disoriented, didn’t fully understand the problem. But even in that state, he could tell Jax looked bad, and tea always helped with things like that. It could heal sadness and perform miracles. He loved tea.
He moved, setting the tray down on the rabbit’s desk, shifting a few things to make space, placing it carefully while arranging the cups and small plates. He had also brought small sugar cubes to add and a couple of slices of toast. “It’s okay, I didn’t make it too hot and it’s one of your favor—”
“K-kinger…”
He lifted his head from the food, blinking as he heard him speak. Jax wasn’t looking at him, but his mouth opened and closed, as if searching for words, as if he didn’t know exactly what to say, as if he were trying to hold himself together with everything he had.
He looked bad.
“…t-turn off the l-light…”
“Is it bothering you? Don’t worry, I’ll turn it off for you. I can have tea with you in the dark,” he said with a smile as he moved toward the switch by the door. The room fell into dimness thanks to the thick curtains, preventing the faint winter morning light from filtering through the window.
They stayed there for what felt like an eternity.
Until… everything came back to him.
His friends, his wife, Ribbit, Ragatha, Jax… everything.
And as he connected the dots, his chest hurt. His body hurt as he saw someone he considered family staring at him, waiting for him to come back to his senses because he didn’t know what else to do. Jax had thought he was alone for years, he had been alone for many years, and he had never thought it would be a good idea to approach him; he thought Ragatha’s presence was enough. He realized too late that it definitely hadn’t been a good idea.
He loved Ragatha very much, but of course he had noticed her tendency to follow her mother and desperately seek her approval, and although he had tried to talk to her more than once, those teachings seemed so deeply rooted in her that nothing changed.
On the other hand… he hadn’t known Jax much before everything that happened. But the consequences were clear now that he knew him and cared for him like any of his children. Now that Ribbit had died.
He had tried countless times to get them to be friends again; both of them needed help urgently. But Jax was lost in grief, completely ignoring it and pretending he had forgotten. And Ragatha simply didn’t cry, didn’t say anything, and after a week of sadness, covered her tears with a professionalism taught by her mother.
Ribbit used to believe Ragatha was the glue that kept them together like siblings, but it wasn’t true.
Ribbit was the one who kept them together as friends. And now she wasn’t there to pick up the pieces.
He wasn’t unfamiliar with loss; he had experienced it up close with someone who could never be replaced. But it frustrated him that even after so much time, both of them remained frozen in time, as if things would stay like this forever.
At least until Pomni arrived.
“Jax… sweetheart…”
It hurt to see the expression on his face when he realized he had come back to his senses. It hurt to see the way his eyes narrowed again, filled with tears.
The rabbit whimpered with a harsh sob, covering his face again as his chest shook violently when he let out another cry. “K…k-kinger…”
He couldn’t help it. He would never leave any of them alone, and he hated himself for not being able to split in two and go to Ragatha as well. He moved quickly, pulling the younger one against his chest and hugging him, unable to stop himself from holding him tightly when he heard him cry out against him, raw and muffled, as if he hadn’t cried just minutes ago.
“I d-don’t understand! W-what am I doing wrong?! I don’t know what else to do anymore!”
He hated hearing him cry.
“It’s all my fault! Oh my god… W-why?! Why am I still alive…?”
The words don’t come out as a clean scream, but as something broken, torn straight from inside him. Jax’s voice cracks halfway through, like every word has to force its way past something lodged deep in his chest. His throat burns, breathing feels wrong, and for a second he truly feels like there isn’t enough air, like everything holding him upright is too fragile to keep him standing.
He isn’t looking at anyone in particular; his eyes are unfocused, wet, fixed on a point that no longer exists, as if he’s seeing something else, another moment… another day that keeps replaying in his head no matter how much he tries to stop it.
The grip comes almost immediately.
Hands grab him by the shoulders before he can sink any deeper into that spiral, pulling him back just enough to force him to face him. Jax blinks, disoriented, like he doesn’t understand why the world suddenly snapped back into focus. When he looks up, he’s met with that furrowed brow, that look that isn’t filled with pity, but something far more intense, something that stops him cold.
“That’s enough, Jax.”
It’s not a shout. And yet it weighs more than one. There’s something in that tone that cuts straight through him, leaving no room to avoid it.
“Don’t ever say that again, do you hear me?”
Jax hesitates. His lips tremble, parted, like he’s trying to answer but can’t find the words. He blinks clumsily, once, twice, feeling the tears keep building, everything he’s been holding back starting to spill out without order. “B-but…” he manages, barely, and it sounds small.
“Do you really think your sister was okay? That she made such a drastic decision just because you two fought?”
Every word lands with weight, but not like a blow more like something trying to break through the guilt Jax has built around himself. He stays still, listening, even though every part of him wants to resist it.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
The sentence hangs between them, but it doesn’t feel light. It isn’t easy to accept.
Not for him.
“She must have been going through the same thing or maybe something worse but she didn’t tell anyone…”
Now the other voice breaks too. There are tears there as well, visible, real, and that makes Jax falter, his expression cracking further, because he didn’t expect that… didn’t expect not to be alone in this pain. “But she wasn’t alone! She was never alone. She had Ragatha, she had me—”
He swallows hard, fighting past the knot in his throat.
“—and I’m telling you the same thing!”
Jax’s world suddenly feels too small, too closed in. He drags in a sharp breath, like he’s been underwater for too long, like he’s only now remembering how to breathe. But it hurts. Everything hurts. His chest, his head, his thoughts that won’t stop.
He hate his mind so much.
“You have me. You have Zooble, who would kill for you. Gangle, who’s gone through something similar. Ragatha, who loves you like you’re her own blood…”
Each name feels like a rope thrown toward him, one after another, even if his hands are shaking too much to grab onto them properly.
“…and Pomni.”
That’s when something in him finally gives.
“You have all of us.”
The hug comes before he can react, strong, enveloping, leaving no space to pull away. Jax stays stiff for a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, like his body isn’t used to being held instead of left to fall. But then his fingers clutch, almost without his permission, gripping the fabric, searching for something solid to anchor himself to.
“Don’t ever say something like that again.”
And this time, when the tears fall, they don’t come with anger. They come heavy. Like he’s been carrying them alone for far too long.
He could hear the door opening, and both of them pulled apart to see who had come in.
“Hey…” Pomni greeted them, raising her hand slightly. Beside her, Ragatha held her hand, her eyes red and full of tears that ran down her face as she looked at them with sadness. “We need to talk.”
They decided to settle them both in the living room, letting them sit and bringing cushions and a blanket for each. Neither of them stopped crying, not even for a moment, and their gazes remained unfocused; he wondered if they were still processing… everything.
Pomni peeked out from the kitchen, glancing at them from time to time while Kinger seemed to be searching for hot water again.
“I’m sorry…” Ragatha’s voice could be heard, and this time Pomni didn’t look. She wanted to leave that conversation to them.
Jax didn’t respond, clinging to the pillow they had given him.
“I know I didn’t use the right words… I know it wasn’t the place or the time to ask you something like that. I know I hurt you, I know I should have insisted much more that you and her talk.” She swallowed heavily, turning to look at him, tears still running down her face. “I know you don’t believe me, but I loved her as much as she loved me! She was the first thing I chose for myself. I wanted to marry her, I really did—not because of my mother, but because of me.”
Her red hair swayed as she lowered her head, one of her curls bouncing over and over as she thought. “I feel so stupid. My whole life I waited for my mother’s guidance, I admired her and loved her more than anyone, even when she threw me into some unknown family to continue her legacy. I feel like I haven’t made a proper decision about my own life in a long time. Ribbit taught me that, and I guess… Pomni opened my eyes again. A-and I—”
“I hate you,” Jax said flatly, still not looking at her. “But… I hate myself more, I guess. I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
She blinked, staring at him with wide eyes. “Like what?”
He sighed. “I… thought—it was my fault, but… I guess I thought things were going well for her. Because she had you, things were going well with mom, and everyone loved her.” He dug his claws into the sleeves of his shirt, gripping himself to keep talking. “But… being in her place, I guess… things were hard even without me in the picture.”
This time, Ragatha was the one who inhaled deeply, adjusting the blanket over her legs. “Ribbit was very reserved. Even though she told me things she hadn’t told anyone else, there were things she never told me. There were small details she never admitted about your family.” She smoothed the fabric, allowing herself to sob before continuing. “I never thought it would be something like this. I never—I would have never let things stay like this. At first, maybe it was an arrangement… for our parents. But not for me.” She swallowed, feeling the knot return. “You… and her… were the only real things I had for a long time.”
Her hands trembled slightly. “And I ruined it.”
“You didn’t ruin it alone,” Jax replied, almost automatically, as if that idea no longer fit the same way it used to. “I also… made everything worse.”
Both of them had red, swollen eyes, their cheeks wet. Jax avoided her gaze at first, but this time it wasn’t anger—it was shame.
Ragatha noticed. Eventually, he looked up.
And this time, there was no anger.
Only exhaustion.
“…did you really love her?” he asked, softer, more fragile than before.
Ragatha felt her chest tighten again.
But she nodded.
Without hesitation. She had probably never been so sure about anything in her life.
“With everything I had. And I still—”
She didn’t finish, because Jax suddenly clung to her, as if the impulse had come before he could even think it through. He wrapped his arms around her with an urgency that didn’t ask permission, that didn’t measure strength or distance, and his body trembled against hers when the first sob broke free without control.
“I’m sorry… I-I should have listened… I’m so sorry…” The words came out broken, stumbling over each other, pushed by desperation and the guilt tightening around his throat. He could barely breathe between phrases, his voice cracking without restraint. “I was so angry a-and frustrated and I…” He couldn’t finish, because everything he couldn’t say turned into another sob that shook his entire body, forcing him to hide his face deeper against her.
Ragatha froze for just a second, surprised by the intensity of the embrace, by how sudden it was, how desperate—but that second was all it took for her to react. Her arms closed around him with the same strength. Her own breathing faltered, and the tears that had already been falling silently now flowed more freely.
“It’s okay… I’m sorry too…” she replied, and although her words were soft, they carried a heavy weight—everything they hadn’t said for years, everything they avoided, everything that broke between them. She didn’t try to justify anything. She just held him.
Jax’s crying didn’t stop immediately. In fact, it seemed to intensify for a moment, as if that embrace gave him permission to let everything out.
“I miss her…” he whimpered against her shoulder, his voice smaller, more fragile than he had ever allowed it to be. It was almost childlike, as if they had both returned to being children, meeting for the first time in the Beaumonts’ garden.
Ragatha closed her eyes tightly when she heard him.
Her body tensed for a moment, as if those words struck something she had been avoiding. Her fingers tightened slightly around him, and she had to take a deep breath before she could respond, because even that simple sentence was too heavy.
“Me too…” she whispered finally, her voice barely there, but honest.
On the other side of the wall, Kinger and Pomni remained silent, but they weren’t unaware of what was happening. Even if they couldn’t hear every word clearly, the sounds were enough—the sobs, the pauses, the way the air seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. Pomni had her arms crossed over her own body, as if trying to hold herself together, and her expression reflected a complex mix of emotions.
She felt heavy, as if everything that had just happened had settled in her chest without permission. But at the same time, she felt relief. A soft, fragile one that had only just begun to form at the realization that, at least, they were talking. That something was finally moving.
Kinger, beside her, was unusually serious. There was no trace of his usual lightness or carefree tone. His eyes stayed fixed on the wall, but his mind was far from there, replaying, connecting, understanding too late things he wished he had seen sooner.
His hands were clasped in front of him, tight with a tension he didn’t try to hide.
Pomni glanced at him before speaking, her voice quieter than usual because of the knot in her throat.
“So… what do we do now?”
For the first time, Pomni felt somewhat lost. She knew she had to do something, but she wasn’t entirely sure what or how.
Kinger took a few seconds to respond. His expression didn’t change immediately, but when he finally turned his head slightly toward her, there was something different in his gaze.
He gave her a small smile, one that tried to be more encouraging.
“We push through. I need to talk to his parents”