Another day, another fight.

She’d gotten her body back. Two days was enough—enough for Alex’ classmates to get suspicious, more than enough for both of them to be thoroughly creeped out by their situation, and almost enough for them to cooperate about putting everything back in place.

Maybe she should say, she’d gotten most of her body back.

“Alyssa, come on already,” Alex whined from his position in the bathtub. He was more or less immobilised; split open from neck to groin, his feet tied together with his own entrails and his arms reduced to misfiring piles of muscles that were in any case not connected to any bones. Occasionally the mass of him shuddered, sending the tub ringing, but he couldn’t get out of the it.

Which was a problem, because she couldn’t get off the floor.

“Exactly how?” She complained, her voice a throaty wheeze. “I’m not in any better shape than you. Moron.”

She could feel the texture of the bathroom floor against her left lung. Her right was still inside her, but that one wasn’t working anymore.

“If you hadn’t suddenly attacked me—“

“And what, was I supposed to let you get away with *turning me into a boy*?”

Her breath rasped, and she coughed up a bit of liquid. She still had just enough mobility left in her neck to look at it… huh, red. She was actually bleeding, that was rare.

“Sane people would wait until they weren’t going to fall apart just from moving.”

She flushed, as much as she could. “Yeah, well—“

“Sane people maybe wouldn’t try to chew my arms apart, and certainly wouldn’t succeed.”

“Jerk.” Somehow, his clinical tone just made it worse. He was right, damn him.

A minute passed, and she made no progress in putting herself back together. Judging by the noises emanating from the tub, neither had Alex. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed him in there.

“You know…” His voice was pensive, and a little tired. “Mom’s going to be home soon. Are you making any progress?”

Her one remaining lung was hurting pretty bad, by now. It wasn’t taking well to sitting on the floor.

“I might be making negative progress.” She took stock of herself. Legs… dunno, probably rolled underneath the commode. Her head was propped up on her buttocks, which was one of her favourite positions, but her neck had been split open and she couldn’t really move it. Her torso…

Well, it had only been on for a minute when she decided to punish him, and between heavy movement and Alex’s efforts she had basically exploded. She could see one of her ribs, bits of flesh having off it—stuck on top of a pile of towels. Some of them were still attached to her body, but her chest had caved in, and… she didn’t know where he’d found the strength, it hadn’t gone too well for him either, but one of them was jammed through her right-hand lung.

Her left-hand lung, of course, had been ripped out of her when she twisted and fell after pushing Alex into the bathtub. She didn’t have any ribs left on that side, or anything but scraps of skin, but it was still just barely attached to her trachea. It was also scraping against shards of bone with every breath she took. It hurt, more with every breath. Still not exactly bad, except…

“I think I might actually be dying,” she concluded, taking shallow breaths between each word. She felt a little lightheaded at the thought. It wouldn’t be the first time, true, but she hadn’t had time to think about it last time—

Alex groaned. “No, you’re not. It’d take more than that.”

Would it? “But I can’t breathe—“ She coughed again, wetly, and for a few seconds panic set in as she desperately tried to draw in breath without getting any. Her ears started to buzz.

“Alyssa?” Alex’ voice rose. For the first time since they’d started to talk, he sounded concerned. A little.

“I can’t—“ A frothy mix of blood and air filled her mouth. She coughed it out as best she could, and then she could finally take a breath. Her vision, which had narrowed a little, snapped back in place. “This sucks. This really sucks!”

“You’re not just saying that because you have a sucking chest wound?”

“Not funny—“ She tried to move her left arm, the only one still mostly attached, but it didn’t even quiver. What? “I can’t move my arm.” Her voice filled with panic. “Why can’t I move my arm? I kind of could, a minute ago!”

“Look, I’m sorry.”

Alyssa didn’t respond, save for increasingly panicked gasps for breath.

“Alyssa—“

Her reality had contracted to a single point, a desperate—doomed—battle for air. Intellectually, she knew that death wouldn’t last very long, but those thoughts did nothing at all against two billion years of evolution telling her to fight, that if she failed she’d go away forever.

“Sis.” Alex’ voice was pained. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. But you have to relax. You’re not going to die, but your brain’s going to hibernate. We talked about that in biology class last year, remember? You’ll be fine, your body will fix itself eventually, even breathing through your skin. But we can’t let that happen. Mom will be back in less than an hour, and—you know how she is. We’d be grounded for *weeks*.”

It was all she could do to pay even a little bit of attention. She wouldn’t die—

“The reason your arm stopped working is that you’re focused on breathing, and your body doesn’t have the resources left to paper over all the damage at once. So if you stop trying to breathe, you might be able to move your arm. I know, that’d scare me too—“

She’d die!

“But if you can’t help me, we’re going to get caught. I’m mostly fine, but I don’t have *any* working limbs. You have to throw me your other arm. Please, sis. I know we haven’t gotten along well the last couple of years, but I’m not trying to fool you. Trust me, just this once. I know, we’ve been fighting so long I barely remember how not to fight, but maybe we can change that…”

He trailed off, and she tried to think about what he’d said, even though her thoughts were starting to fuzz out.

They hadn’t gotten along? No kidding there! But…

He sounded almost desperate. And she still remembered, back when they’d been the absolute best of friends. She remembered why they’d *stopped*, some silly argument that had gotten out of hand, and they’d never said sorry—

No. Bad. Her mind was wandering off, and she was barely getting any air at all anymore. Her lung was quivering, at most. She had to make a decision. Quickly.

“I’m sorry. About everything. I never meant you to hurt this much.“

Damn Alex anyway. Why couldn’t he have said that three years ago? She had half a mind to do nothing, just so he’d get punished.

xxx

“Hey, kids, I’m home!”

The door slammed shut behind Eva, and she automatically scanned the entranceway, then blinked. Only one pair of shoes.

“Alex?” She shouted upstairs as she walked into the living room. Distantly, she heard the coffee machine click on. Ah, progress; where would they be without it.

“Working!” Was the reply.

Far be it from her to interrupt homework, if he’d decided to get an early start.

“Is Alyssa up there?” She asked, and a moment later Alex stuck his head around the hallway corner.

“No, she’s visiting Andrea. Why?”

“Nothing, just making sure.” She ostentatiously turned back to the TV, but inwardly she was smiling. Last time she’d asked that, the answer had been a rude “Who cares”. Maybe they were finally starting to get back together? The psychologist *had* said that they’d probably get over it one day, and if it happened now, so much the better; their fourteenth birthday was only a couple of weeks away.

Now, what should she ask the kitchen to make for dinner…

xxx

Good grief. If his heart had been hammering any harder, it’d probably tear itself out of his chest.

Leaning against the wall, Alex slowly made his way back to his bedroom. With one arm and one leg—both Alyssa’s—that was the best he could do, but one arm and one leg was all they had between the two of them.

He sat down on his bed and resumed working. Putting Alyssa back together, that was. She’d become quite the 3D jigsaw puzzle; at one point the bedsheets had been covered with nearly a hundred pieces, and that was after searching the bathroom for almost half an hour. If it hadn’t been self-cleaning, he didn’t know what he would have done.

Rib bone—three—goes underneath rib bone two—

He sighed, and decided to wait, because she hadn’t started breathing yet. Right now she was little more than the upper half of an open torso, but every bit he added spread her healing capacity further. Having her heart and lungs in the right place would have to do.

She looked like she was simply sleeping. Her face, almost identical to his; when was the last time he’d seen her with a peaceful expression?

It’d take at least another hour to heal, but Mom was always slow with dinner. They’d have time, and very little to do but talk, once she woke up. In the meantime, he picked up her other leg and started reattaching it to himself; it’d be a tiny olive branch, once she did, if he helped her get back on her feet before himself.

Mom had better not decide to visit.