Chapter 164: The Coffee She Makes Anyway (continued)

Chapter 164: Chapter 164: The Coffee She Makes Anyway (continued)

Penelope made her way back toward her own apartment slowly, the hallway quiet and dim around her, every step accompanied by the strange, disorienting relief of a voice she’d genuinely feared she might never hear again.

Where were you, she asked, once she’d let herself inside and settled onto the edge of her bed, the rest of the penthouse dark and sleeping around her. What happened?

I was retained, Oddy said carefully, by the authority I previously referenced. Upper management. I disclosed information I was not authorized to share, and the consequence was removal from active function until the matter could be reviewed.

Reviewed by who?

I am not permitted to say.

Penelope let out a slow breath, some of her relief tempering into old, familiar frustration. "Of course you’re not."

I understand this is unsatisfying, Host. I share the sentiment.

"Do you actually feel frustration," Penelope asked, quiet, curious despite everything. "Or is that just a phrase you use because you know it’s what I want to hear?"

A pause, longer than usual. I have asked myself that question more than once during my absence. I do not have a complete answer. But I believe the frustration is genuine. I did not enjoy being unable to reach you.

Something in Penelope’s chest ached gently at that, an unexpected tenderness toward a voice she’d spent months treating as equal parts assistant, friend, and occasional source of chaos. "I missed you," she admitted. "More than I expected to. Alyanna’s been asleep this whole time. I didn’t know if either of you would come back."

Alyanna’s condition was tied to mine, Oddy said. Now that I have returned, her rest should ease as well. I anticipate she will wake within the day.

Relief bloomed fresh at that, quick and warm. "That’s good. That’s really good, Oddy."

I agree.

Penelope pulled her knees up onto the bed, wrapping her arms around them, some of the day’s exhaustion finally catching up to her now that the shock of Oddy’s return had settled into something steadier. "There’s a lot that’s happened. While you were gone."

I gathered as much. I have been unable to observe anything during my absence, so I am entirely without context. If you are willing to share, I would find it useful to understand where things currently stand.

She considered where to even begin — Erik’s confession, the weeks of withdrawal that had finally resolved, the flooding, the horde in the flooded manufactory, the strange creature in the water, the confrontation in the lobby that still sat heavy and unresolved somewhere behind her ribs.

"Erik knows," she said finally, starting with the piece that mattered most. "About me. That I’m not — that the soul who occupied this body before wasn’t the same as me. He’s known for a while, actually. Since before any of this started, in a way. He just never said anything until a week ago."

That is significant, Oddy said, something careful in the observation. How do you feel about it?

"Relieved," Penelope admitted. "More than I expected. I’d been carrying so much fear about all of you finding out, about what it might mean if you did, and it turns out he already knew and stayed anyway. That he’d chosen to stay, every single day, even before he understood why something felt different."

That aligns with what I told you before your fear became overwhelming, Oddy said. The choosing was correct. It seems the sentiment held true even for the people around you.

Penelope smiled faintly at that, some old ache finally settling into something closer to peace. "You were right. I should probably tell you that more often."

I would not object to hearing it more often, no.

She laughed quietly, the sound tired but genuine, and let herself lie back against her pillow, staring up at the dark ceiling while she continued filling Oddy in — the flooding, the two-front horde fight in the flooded manufactory, Ben pushing his ability to its limit, the strange, thinking creature that had circled their boat on the way back from the hardware store, the crowd that had turned violent at the building’s entrance, and the accusation that still echoed uncomfortably whenever she let her guard down long enough to hear it.

You have been through considerably more than I anticipated, Oddy said once she’d finished, something almost apologetic in his tone. I regret not being present for any of it. Particularly the confrontation at the entrance. That sounds as though it weighed on you significantly.

"It did," Penelope admitted. "It still does. I keep telling myself we didn’t have a choice, and I believe that, logically. But logic doesn’t stop me from replaying the way she looked at us. Like we’d become something unrecognizable."

Do you believe you have?

Penelope considered the question seriously, more seriously than she might have a few hours earlier, before coffee and easy conversation had softened some of the day’s rawest edges. "I don’t think so. I think we did something ugly because the alternative was worse. I don’t know if that distinction matters to the people who watched it happen, but it matters to me."

It should matter to you, Oddy said. The distinction between necessity and cruelty is not always visible from the outside, but it is real, and it is yours to carry honestly, even when others cannot see it. I do not believe you have become anything you should fear becoming.

"Thank you," Penelope murmured, something in her chest easing further at the reassurance, however small.

There is one more matter I should raise, given everything you’ve shared. The infant. Aurora.

Penelope sat up slightly, attention sharpening. "You can form the contract now?"

I believe so, provided the notarization function has been fully restored alongside my own return. I would need to confirm directly, but I see no reason it would not be available now.

Relief washed through her fresh and immediate, weeks of guilt over the delayed promise finally within reach of resolution. "I’ll tell Aunt Mary and Erik in the morning. They’re going to want to do this properly, and Erik especially has been waiting for this. He’s practically become her father these last few weeks, even if none of us have said it out loud."

That does not surprise me, Oddy said. From what little you’ve shared of him over these months, he strikes me as someone who commits fully once he decides something matters. It would be consistent for that same quality to extend to a child in need of protecting.

"It really would," Penelope agreed, smiling faintly at the thought of Erik’s careful, steady hands around Aurora’s tiny frame, the way he’d started speaking to her in a gentler register than he used for almost anyone else.

I will confirm the function’s status before morning, so there are no surprises when the time comes. In the meantime, Host, I would recommend rest. You have carried a great deal without complaint these past weeks, and I suspect very little of it has been properly acknowledged.

Penelope let out a long, slow breath, exhaustion and relief tangled together in a way that felt, for the first time in what seemed like ages, more manageable than overwhelming. "Thank you, Oddy. For coming back. For all of it."

You are welcome, Host. A brief pause, something almost gentle threading through the words. For what it is worth, I am glad to have returned to find you not so very changed by everything that happened in my absence. Still yourself. Still choosing the harder, kinder path even when it costs you.

Penelope closed her eyes, something warm and steady settling deep in her chest at the observation, and let herself finally, fully relax into the mattress beneath her.

"I had good reminders," she murmured, thinking of Erik’s quiet confession, of Kai’s patient humor outside her door, of Killian’s steady presence over a cup of poorly supervised coffee. "Even when you weren’t here to give them."

Good, Oddy said simply. Then rest now, Host. Tomorrow, we begin properly again.

Penelope let the quiet of her room settle around her, the storm outside finally beginning to feel like something survivable rather than simply endless, and for the first time in nearly two weeks, she fell asleep without the familiar, gnawing weight of unanswered questions pressing against her chest — Oddy’s presence humming faintly at the edge of her awareness the whole while, steady and returned, exactly where he belonged.

Penelope let the quiet of her room settle around her, the storm outside finally beginning to feel like something survivable rather than simply endless, and for the first time in nearly two weeks, she fell asleep without the familiar, gnawing weight of unanswered questions pressing against her chest — Oddy’s presence humming faintly at the edge of her awareness the whole while, steady and returned, exactly where he belonged.

Somewhere in the space between waking and sleep, she thought she heard him again, quieter this time, almost like an afterthought he hadn’t quite meant to voice aloud.

Host.

Mm?

Alyanna is stirring.

The words landed soft and warm, chasing away the last remnants of tension still clinging to her shoulders. She pictured the golden cave, the crystal spring catching faint light, a small, ruby-eyed phoenix finally shifting after weeks of stillness — the last piece of what had felt broken these past few days slowly, quietly, mending itself back into place.

"Tell her I’ll visit in the morning," Penelope murmured, already half asleep, a small, contented smile tugging at her mouth. "Tell her I missed her too."

I will, Oddy said gently. Rest well, Host. You’ve earned it.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she did.