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I. LYNNE.
It's Lynne who first mentions it, during the chicken fiasco. She seems rather unfazed by the sight of her own corpse lying limp in front of her, probably a side effect of already seeing it three times tonight. At least most of her is hidden this time, courtesy of the giant lump of chicken crushing her flat.
"You know," she says, pressing a finger to her cheek as she surveys the scene before her— carnage, another failed attempt. "You say that a lot."
"Say what?" replies Sissel, already rewinding the clock back another four minutes and only half-listening. He's struggling with this one, and having Lynne going off on tangents in his ear isn't exactly helping his concentration. Can't they have this conversation once she's alive again?
"You
know!
"
(Pretty sure I don't. Pretty sure there's a lot I don't know, actually, thanks to the 'lost memory' thing.)
He doesn't have to look behind him to know that she's rolling her eyes. She definitely doesn't have to look to know that he's rolling his, hidden behind those shades, an amused smile playing on his lips.
"That thing," she tries again, "about it always being darkest before the dawn. You've said it a lot tonight."
(I have?)
And, more importantly—
(Have you been keeping count or something?)
She giggles. "I'm a detective, it's my job to notice these things! Now, c'mon! Let's save me this time!"
(That's easy for you to say…)
II. DETECTIVE JOWD.
The gloom in the prison is overwhelming. It's so dark that Sissel suddenly finds himself grateful that the ghost world has no concept of light or shadow, highlighting everything in its universal red glow. It's dark in the prison, yes, but it's always darkest—
"Before the dawn, right?"
Jowd's low rumble interrupts his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. He's curled up under another inmate's bunk at the moment, what feels like miles of patrolled prison ground sitting in between him and his freedom. And yet, despite the circumstances, Sissel can see his smile. He looks too relaxed for a death row prisoner fleeing his execution, he thinks. Not that he has many examples to compare him against, however.
Sissel nods, then realises a moment too late that Jowd can't see him like this. His smile widens anyway, so maybe that new sixth Sissel sense of his picked it up.
"I didn't take you for someone who'd say things like that," Jowd rumbles again, shifting a little under his bunk.
That's… not what he was expecting.
(What do you mean?)
"You talk about death so matter of factly, but get metaphorical over this? It's odd."
(It's also not what we need to be focusing on, right now.)
Jowd shrugs. If he's at all offended by Sissel's abrupt closure of the topic, he does a remarkable job of not showing it. "Ready when you are, then, Sissel."
III. MISSILE.
Next comes Missile, in Temsik Park. Saving this poor park guardian is proving much more challenging than he'd expected, that stupid hunk of rock just too big for his powers of the dead to possible have an effect on. He's been huffing and puffing and trying to shift it even a centimetre, to not avail.
But still, he perseveres. He has to. No one is dying tonight, not if he can help it!
He's taking a break in the ghost world, retracing his steps through his previous attempts and looking for any possible opportunity, no matter how small. Missile sits by his feet, eyes bright and tail wagging.
"Is it almost dawn?" he barks.
(What— Why does a little doggy care about the time?)
"No," Sissel answers anyway, because Missile's still looking at him expectantly. "We've got a good few hours yet."
"But it's dark now." Missile cocks his head to one side, looking as puzzled as a Pomeranian can. "Is it going to get darker?"
"N-No? It gets lighter towards morning, with the sunrise—"
"But you said it's going to be darkest then."
Sissel sighs. He's got so many mysteries to unravel already— why does deciphering what people mean have to be another one? "I don't understand, Missile."
That fluffy head is cocked to the other side, this time. He still looks puzzled.
"You, Sissel—"
"Me."
"Yes, you said ," Missile barks, speaking slowly as if Sissel is the one not making sense, "that it's going to be darkest before the dawn. Dawn is morning."
(Oh! That's what he means.)
"It's a metaphor."
Missile's head doesn't straighten. He doesn't know what a metaphor is.
Sissel tries again.
"It's a saying. It means that things get worse before they get better."
"Oh!" The little doggy jumps up, head straightened and tail wagging faster than ever. "Like, like— People have to die before they can be saved!"
"...Sure, yeah. Like that."
IV. INSPECTOR CABANELA.
Discovered again. Getting spoken to face to face like that, his control of the ghost world snatched away like a treat he's not allowed to have… It's unsettling. It's made worse by the reminder that this isn't his name, his face… Has he spent all this time chasing someone else's truth?
No! The night is almost over, but he can't give up hope. Not when it's—
"You say that, baby, but things are lookin' pretty diiim right now."
Okay. Yes. This isn't the easiest death he's ever had to erase. It's hard , having to work around another manipulator. Sissel's gotten too used to people disregarding his Ghost Tricks as their imagination, or lucky accidents, or— what was it the little lady had said? Crooked apartment floors.
So having someone here, who will not only notice his movements but claim another's life in punishment… It's difficult. Made even more difficult by the placement of the inspector's death, leaving him a truly miniscule amount of wiggle room no matter how much he tries to take Cabanela's advice and keep moving.
There just aren't enough cores!
Cabanela looks down at him, his usual smile already in place. Despite his comments, he seems confident that they'll find a way out of this somehow, no matter how many times he has to watch his past counterpart slump against that chair with red pooling on his chest. It… In spite of everything, Sissel can't help but feel inspired by it, too.
"The darkness can't stay forever," he says. "We've hit a dead—" (ha) "—end, so there's nothing to do but retrace our steps until we find a way through!"
"Yeaaah, baby! Motivational speaking, there's nothin' like it!"
Time to rewind the clock again.
V. SISSEL.
Well. It wasn't easy, but both Pigeon Man and Cabanela are saved, the former tending carefully to the latter's many injuries. Sissel knows he needs to leave, but… He needs a second. Just one.
The phone lines carry him to the place Cabanela apprehended Jowd. He can see the moon nice and clearly from here. It's nice. It's just about the only comfort he has at the moment, actually, when the darkness around him feels more oppressive than ever.
The moonlight slices through the shadows with all the ease of a hot knife through butter, cool and calming. Sissel wishes he could perch on top of the phone box to get a better look, letting the illumination reflect across his shades. He wishes he could sit in front of the moon, actually, silhouetted against it. He thinks that'd feel nice.
(It's always darkest before the dawn.)
He repeats it like a mantra, over and over and over again. Something about it gives him strength, even as his faith in the words starts to waver.
(...I just hope my dawn comes before the actual one.)
As silently as he'd appeared, the phone lines carry him away again.
VI. YOMIEL.
A fate ten years in the making… And it's going to be reversed. So many threads unwound, lives changed, the memories of this night remaining as little more than a shared nightmare. It's a big undertaking. An intimidating one. Not to mention what he'll face on the other side, a new life without the possibility of ten years of companionship, driven as it might have been by revenge…
But Sissel knows he's not going to lose this intertwined fate. Not now, and not ever.
Yomiel already looks nervous. Sissel can't blame him. If— no— When this works, he'll be living in a world everyone present here knows he caused great harm to. None of them have an obligation to forgive him, and indeed, he knows even those willing to offer it might not do so immediately.
But Sissel will.
Sissel, his confidant, his best friend. The only one he could always trust, always count on, always turn to in his times of despair. They made something special of their shared time together, and will do so again irregardless of what this new, uncertain future holds. After all—
Yomiel catches his eye. Smiles. "It's always darkest before the dawn."
And Sissel knows, now more than ever, that dawn will always come.
(Finally knows where— or rather, who —he picked that saying up from, too.)