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Wind Up Toy

Summary:

How many times has she done this now? How many Jonases have wandered into that cave and how many Alexes refuse the deal?

Written for Whumptober 2024

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Her skin was flushed with warmth, bright red and splotchy, as she sunk even deeper into the oversized hoodie she pilfered from one of Jonas’ unopened boxes. The faint acrid smell of smoke sunk deep into the fabric, the way it scratched against her skin infuriating but also needed. Long pajama pants kept getting caught on the heel of her foot as she shuffled around. 

Despite the heavy layers and excess warmth that radiated off her, it did nothing to stave off the icy chill that had claimed her body. Sunk two inches under the skin, sneaking between arteries and veins, spreading its insidious chill. Just deep enough that nothing can truly chase it away. 

If you were to perform a vivisection on her, neck to pelvis, peeling away the skin and tissue, all you would find is frozen organs and sinew. Forever immortalized. Something between punishment and divinity. 

The bathroom was more steam than air at this point, fogging the mirror faster than Alex could wipe the condensation away. She was fine with that. The thing that would look back at her is not someone she recognized anymore. 

Three days. 

When she and Jonas finally returned home, still step-siblings—Alex wasn’t sure if she could handle Michael’s endless optimism right now—she collapsed in her bed and didn’t move for three days. A plush cover pulled over her head and curled into a pathetic little ball that did little more than shiver. 

Eventually, Jonas had had enough, dragging her out of bed and shoving her toward the general vicinity of the bathroom. He threatened to lock her inside until she showered. He pulled a leaf out of her hair as if to make a point. 

Alex rolled her eyes, snatching the leaf out of his hand, making some half-hearted joke about fashion statements. Jonas gave a small pity laugh before practically shoving her into the bathroom. 

She’d sat in there for 40 minutes, perched on the porcelain lid of the toilet. When Jonas knocked on the door, kindly asking if she was okay, it nearly knocked Alex off her seat. That had been enough for her to crack the ice long enough to start the shower, water set to scalding. 

Now, her feet dragged her back to her room, but she didn’t quite have the energy to properly lift them off the ground. She’s glad her parents aren’t home tonight. There’s already too much to explain without the undead shuffling act. 

Her room was at the end of the hall, the furthest removed from the rest of the house you could get. It was small and oddly shaped but it worked well. A couple dozen ambient lights and the perfect, uninterrupted view of the sunset really brought the place together. 

Jonas sat in her desk chair, and rolled over to the open window. One leg was propped up, with an arm wrapped around it, while the other scraped across the floor in mindless motions. His hand barely held onto his cigarette, lit end burning away in his negligence. Judging by the half-filled ashtray, Alex assumed this wasn’t his first, and most definitely not the last. 

He stared vacantly out the window, watching the cars race endlessly. The warm glow of her lava lamp lights just enough of his face to see the unfocused haze of his eyes. It wasn’t hard to guess where his thoughts were. 

“Jonas.” Her voice was soft and raspy, barely audible over the ambient drone of evening traffic. 

Still, he jolted, fingers clenching around his cigarette and scattering the untapped ash on the floor. His head tilted, not fully looking away from the traffic but acknowledging he heard her. “Hey. Are you feeling any better?”

No. 

Her skin still felt tight, her body sluggish and lagging. The ice still flowed through her veins. 

“Yeah. Thanks.” She shuffled over to the end of her bed, slumping down with little grace. She held a hand out, beseeching. 

Jonas finally looked at her, deep brown eyes carrying a sense of weariness that was all too familiar. He didn’t comment before placing a cigarette in her palm, his other hand already snatching his lighter off the windowsill. Alex held it limply in her mouth, leaning forward slightly to let him light it. 

Had this been before Alex wouldn’t even consider letting one of these touch her mouth, cancerous death sticks they are, but really what did it matter when in two weeks it would all be reset anyway? What’s the harm in a simple smoke now?

Leaning back and flicking the zippo shut, Jonas brought his long-neglected cigarette to his lips. He took a long drag, holding it before blowing it out the window. The smoke danced in the low light—wispy pale ghosts at the mercy of the gentle wind. 

Ha. Ghosts. Yeah, Alex’s had enough of those. 

She took her own drag and didn’t bother to aim for the window.

“Alex,” Jonas murmured, voice low as if unwilling to disrupt the fleeting calm. “What’s wrong?”

Despite herself, Alex snorted. Jonas shot her a glare but really, she couldn’t help herself. What wasn’t wrong anymore? 

“Seriously. I know something else is going on.” His attention was fixed on her again. She didn’t like the way his eyes bore into her, scraping every paltry defense away. Given how lax and distant Jonas tended to be, it was easy to forget that he—to a lesser extent—also remembered the loops. He might not understand the finer details or know each step taken, but he still carried the feelings; the fear, the loss, the care. “Please, just tell me.” 

She sighed, pulling the cigarette from her mouth and biting her lip. “I don’t… I don’t think I can keep doing this.” 

Jonas made a small noise from the back of his throat, less questioning and more prompting. He never seemed to question her, not about this. 

Some time ago she learned that though Jonas doesn’t have the innate memory she does, they’re still there buried deep. Somehow, with a little coaxing, she can get him to remember.

She had explained everything to him, like she does in every loop. Between jumping over gorges and exorcising ghosts with the power of a handheld radio, Jonas listened to her insane ramblings. Just after the moon began to sink low he remembered too. It was always a painful experience but he never complained, just stood and kept going. Steps in tandem with her's.

A part of her is sickened by it. Jonas doesn’t deserve to constantly relive the worst night of his life, dragged along by a sister he never asked for, trying to play a role he was never meant to fill. This was Alex’s purgatory and hers alone. Yet, no matter how wrong she knew it to be—constantly dragging him back—she couldn’t stop. 

Every time his brown eyes clouded over with unfamiliar memories and emotions, she felt a weight roll off her shoulders. Every time he would pull her into a hug, and somehow it always felt safer than the last. He wasn’t meant to be her older brother, that role was already taken by someone who could never be replaced, but she thinks he would be a good one. 

Alex hunched in on herself, and with a practiced ease, Jonas was already migrating to the end of the bed. He was close enough to sink into but still far enough to give her space. She didn’t even think he realized just how practiced the motion was. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing Jonas. I-I keep going back and nothing changes.” She clenched her fists. “At this point, I feel like I’m just… going through the motions. I don’t even know what I can change anymore.”

Jonas was quiet for a minute, tapping his foot on the floor to some invisible rhythm. “Maybe you could try reminding the others?”

“No.” The protest was already out of her mouth before Jonas finished. She shook her head. “I won’t drag them into this. Hell, it’s bad enough that I drag you into this, I can’t imagine doing that to Ren or Nona.”

“Alex–”

“No! Seriously, Jonas, it’s a bad idea. I mean hell, sometimes you can barely handle it and you’re…”

“I’m…?” 

Alex sighs and smiles, just barely, at him. “Don’t tell the others but you are by far the most mature on that island. Look, just– telling Ren would probably make him think I’m tripping off his ‘magic brownies’ and Nona might think I’m clinically insane. Don’t even get me started on Clarissa.” 

Jonas snorted a small muted sound, but fond nonetheless. Not for the first time, Alex wondered what it would be like to get to know him outside of this ‘ghosts and time loops’ bullshit. Would they get to be as close as they are now? Or would Jonas just be a stranger in her home until he inevitably left for college? 

She thinks she’d like to know him; the domestic Jonas. Someone who she could bother for fun, who would show up to her band concerts, who would conspire with her whenever their parents got too overbearing. Instead, she knows this hollow shell of Jonas, who chain smokes and coats his laughs with nihilism. Who’s seen Alex at her worst innumerable times, yet not once has seen her at her best. 

There’s a cruel irony that even now, he still lets her lean on his shoulder. 

“I don’t think being the most mature on that island is a hard bar to clear.” Jonas shakes his head before leaning back slightly. “But Alex, don’t stop reminding me. Please. I don’t want you to go through this alone, I’d rather we both hit a standstill rather than you face it all alone.”

She starts to shake her head. “You have a life to live Jonas–”

“And you don’t?” 

“No.” She finally slumps into his side, burying her face in his shoulder. The cigarette falls from her fingers and Jonas is quick to stamp it out. There’s most definitely a burn mark on her carpet now, but why care? Why care about anything anymore? “I don’t.”

“Then we’ll just have to help you find one when we’re out.” Jonas pulls his cigarette away and tries to make circles in the air with smoke. They’re a little sloppy and fall apart pretty quickly, but it’s impressive regardless. “Can’t do that without my memories though.” 

Alex shakes her head. “You’re impossible.” She mumbles into his jacket. 

He shrugs. “Family trait.”

She gently smacks his shoulder before lifting her head, just enough to see out the window. Red and white lights streak down the highway in hypnotizing patterns. It’s easy to see why Jonas gets so enamored by them. 

“Jonas.”

“Mhm?” 

“I don’t remember how many times I’ve done this.” The confession feels small, weak. 

She doesn't know . She doesn’t even remember how she started remembering the loops in the first place. It just feels like a universal constant—Alex Yvette has always and will always exist in these three weeks. Whatever came before is just a fabrication. Whatever came after was not meant for her. 

How many times has she tuned the radio? How many hers have rejected the deal the sunken offer?  How many will? 

She doesn’t think there’s ever going to be an out. 

Jonas is a fluke in the system. A slip through the cosmic cracks—forever stuck wandering into that cave and leaving forever changed. One day Alex fears he’ll slip completely, cursed to live this never-ending nightmare with no way out. He’s already starting to remember more and more each loop.

Jonas brings an arm around her shoulder anyway. “We’ll find a way, Alex.”

Notes:

mannnnnn I love sibling relationships. Alex and Jonas Oxenfree you get it.