After Anissa and MM departed, a hush descended on Mich’s room. Finally Mich felt compelled to do or say something, so she crossed the room to Nev’s side, stopping to grab her Monkees throw. She leaned against her couch and pulled him into her arms.
“I love you, Nev. You know that, right?”
Nev shrugged. “I guess.”
“Well, start guessing, then,” she said, tightening her grip and smoothing the unruly waves of his hair. He relaxed in her gentle embrace, his clenched muscles slowly loosening. As he did he let down his guard and a fresh wave of tears burst forth.
Mich rocked him gently. “You go ahead and cry, Nev. Let it out.” She lifted her gaze and saw Nameh gazing down at them uncertainly, his tears matching his twin’s.
“Come on, Nam. It’s okay.” Nameh came around Nev’s other side, and Mich wrapped the blanket around the three of them, hugging her second clone as the two of them comforted her first.
Nev’s quiet sobs finally eased, then stopped altogether. “I-I’m sorry, guys, I—”
“Hey,” Mich said. She tucked her finger under Nev’s chin and lifted his head, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Sometimes you need to cry and that’s what family’s for—to hold you and comfort you.”
“You still want to be my family?”
Mich was taken aback by the question. “Why in the world would you think that, Nev? What happened tonight doesn’t change anything—you’re still you and I’m still me and I don’t care where you’re from or who made you. You’re here and you’re staying, got that?”
“Okay,” Nev said.
“Right. Now, into the shower with you, and I’ll make up the bed.”
“Is he gonna be okay, Mich?” Nameh asked as his twin stepped into the bathroom once more and closed the door behind him.
“Yes, Nameh, he will. He’ll need help to work through this, but he has a lot of people to help him.”
“Like us?”
Mich put her arms around him. “Yeah, Nam, like us.”
~*~
Nev stirred restlessly, his eyes opening in the dark. He felt the warm, solid presence of Mich nestled up against his back and sighed.
He stared out the window at the clear, moonlit sky with its dappling of stars. Far below he could see the pale, ethereal outline of the stables, and beyond that the depthless dark of the forest. The trees nearest the Library carried the glow from Trotondown, but the light was quickly swallowed up by the depths.
He didn’t really remember much about the days he’d spent stumbling around, frantically trying to make sense of a vast and terrifying world. He remembered being hungry and thirsty, his body racked with aches and pains from exertion, his mind shutting down from an overload of information.
His weeks with Selphie and her clones had similarly passed in a blur. Her clones had named him ‘Hey You’ because Nev hadn’t been able to provide them with a name.
The one thing he did remember was seeing Mich for the first time.
He’d been sent over to her room by Selphie, who assured the terrified clone that he would come to no harm. Nev had approached the room proudly labeled “Nesmith’s House of Blues” nervously, his heart pounding in his throat. Mich was there waiting, welcoming him with a shy smile and a gentle nod of her head. She’d kept her distance at first, recognizing that he needed time to adjust, so she gave him the space he needed to learn how to live. She’d taken him in without hesitation, eventually giving him a brother and a family and an identity. And you know what, Nev? No one can take that away from you.
After finally accepting that he was not going to be able to sleep, Nev stumbled from the loft, careful to crawl over Mich. It wasn’t difficult—despite the traumatic events of the evening Mich had fallen into a deep sleep and was burrowed under her covers; she didn’t move as Nev descended to the floor, groping in the dark for his jeans and boots. He pulled the top dresser drawer open and blindly grabbed a shirt, then plodded into the bathroom.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Michael Nesmith, age twenty-six or so, stared back at him.
But that wasn’t who he really was, was it? He might look and act like Mike, but the revelation and remembrance of his past suddenly changed the equation.
He stared at his reflection for a long time. Did the matter of his past and his creation really matter? He had a life now—he had Mich, who he loved very much; he had a brother, a family, friends, a home . . . that was what really mattered, wasn’t it?
He never had time to think further about that. Something thick and stifling was dropped over his head, and before he could think to cry out for help, rough hands grabbed him and slammed his head into the mirror. Nev heard the fixture crack and splinter as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Mich was brought instantly awake by the noise. She leaped from her bed, her eyes already focused on the source of light—the bathroom. She saw Nev’s limp body being dragged to the door by three shapeless forms swaddled in gray.
The gray people! Mich thought as a roar burst forth from her throat. She charged, accomplishing two full strides before something with an edge—a hand, perhaps—struck her in the back of the skull and she collapsed.
Nameh, who normally slept the sleep of the dead, was awakened by the commotion—he saw Nev being borne away by three ghostly-looking creatures who were somehow there and yet not there at the same time, and Mich lying unconscious in the middle of the room. Though his first impulse was to hide underneath his blankets and wait for it to be over, he knew that he had to help Mich and Nev somehow.
He leaped forward with far more grace and power than seemed capable for such a shy, unassuming clone, and grabbed one of the ghostly creatures. It slipped from Nameh’s grasp with ease and backhanded him, sending the Peter clone crashing into the wall. He rebounded and charged again, driving his shoulder into the creature’s back. It made a muted roaring noise and drove its unshaped—yet incredibly solid—fist into Nameh’s face. Nameh reeled backwards, blood spouting from his nose and lip, and tripped over the coffee table, shattering it as he landed on his back. He heard his head strike the floor with a dull thud, followed immediately by blackness.
On to Chapter Seven
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