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Marco's Heart
You find yourself in a bright white, circular room. It's nearly empty; too bare, almost clinically so. But the bareness of it means that what is visible here stands out:
A podium in the center, where a familiar figure sits, head buried in his hands. Three paths running from the podium to three different spots near the edges of the room - not corners; circles don't have corners - where three doors leading seemingly nowhere stand with no regard for their complete lack of structural support.
It doesn't take you long to figure out where you are, does it? You only have to decide where to start.
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Aren't they supposed to be smaller, and... frankly I don't see how this thing is supposed to do anything besides make calls.
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Agnes and Marco aren't quite done talking, incidentally. Visibly stunned, if only barely, Agnes says:
"Marco, this must have been..."
But Marco shakes his head, smiling.
"Business has been going well. And I think this will turn out cheaper in the long run than booking a transatlantic flight every year just to see you."
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It might be cheaper, but wouldn't it be nicer to meet up in person. Even if you've talked on the phone?
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"You're... quite right, Miss St. Clair."
And everything blurs once again, for a while.
When the world clears up, they're in what appears to be the entrance hall of an opulent, but disheveled mansion. A half-dozen people aside from Marco are here, picking themselves up; a lanky man with dark green hair lies motionless on the floor.
Marco is in a strange position, half-kneeling, half-slumped forward. Agnes is there too, her small hands cradling his face.
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Good heavens, what even happened here?
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"There was... a battle of sorts here," Agnes tells her. "It's a rather long story. And, perhaps, not completely relevant."
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Yes. Now that whatever it is is over I'd really hope to see you safely not in a crowd of strangers.
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"This is the last memory in this door," Agnes tells Mal, almost as quietly as Marco. "Forgive me. This is all I have."
And then, the Agnes of this memory speaks to Marco.
"Marco," she says. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes," Marco tells her. He doesn't seem all... there.
The two of them are silent for what feels like a long time, until she says with a gentleness that very few have seen:
"... It's okay. You will be okay. I'm here, Marco."
Marco's face is trembling. You get the impression that something like a sob is struggling to break free from his chest.
"I thought... A-Agnes. Agnes, I thought I couldn't talk to you. I thought you would... I thought... thought, they said... God said..."
She throws her arms around Marco and squeezes him tightly. That sob expels itself, and Marco is shaking, and somehow, he seems lighter.
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"He was. He... hadn't spoken to me in years. I'm not certain how many, exactly."
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We all will be sure he returns to you better than ever.
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She's looking forward now.
"This was... the last remaining memory in this door. The others will be less pleasant."
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[Mal leans down to give Agnes' childlike form a hug.]
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