'A stranger I arrived; a stranger I depart.' And what about the stranger that arrived again? Gerrit stood in front of Rosie's Roses, just like he stood there years ago. Then it had been a sign of hope, the promise for a new beginning.

Was this why he returned to Sacramento? Maybe. Things have gone from bad to worse lately, but he couldn't imagine starting new somewhere else yet again. This had become his home.
Even though almost every person he had grown to care about left him? Even though he had almost died in the Hedge because he tried to prove that he could still help the Freehold while carrying out the curse of the Motley that wasn't?
Yes. He realized that this was where he belonged.

1. Good Night


The time spent recovering from the poisonous Goblin Fruit was a blur. The combination of the strange mold that had infested the Ogre, the curse, and his slipping Clarity made it hard to remember the few weeks after their expedition clearly. He knew that he had stumbled out of the Hedge while everything was swimming in fuzzy rust - abandoning Anatole and Liam in the process.
He somehow managed to get to Seraphina's place without dying or getting arrested - and without completely realizing that's where he was headed in his delirium. He made her promise not to tell anyone about this and stubbornly denied the Monarch's help until she agreed.
As soon as he felt well enough, he snuck out and left without telling or anyone.

And then? Then the Ogre traveled back to the home-town of a former life. He hitched rides, sometimes he took public transportation. But, for the first few weeks, he mostly he walked. Some Lost might call this reckless - Gerrit, however, knew he could depend on himself as long as the Wyrd wasn't holding a grudge. And frankly: part of him didn't particularly care if something had happened to him.

In hindsight, the journey was surprisingly light on the brooding, the bitter and self-depricating thoughts. Sure, there had been days (or even more nights) where he thought about reaching out, where he regretted throwing everything away, where he second-guessed this plan. He just regressed to a merely functioning person, locking all those thoughts away behind the practical necessity to arrive at his old-old home.
He had only a vague idea what he wanted to do once he arrived there. This idea also changed now and then, alternating between finding and killing his Fetch, reconnecting with his family some other way, and starting yet again from scratch.

As Winter took hold of the country and the miles went by those ideas became more and more hypothetical in nature - the emotional weight of every one buried under snow and detachment.

7. On the Stream


It was the middle of December when the roots of a decision subconsciously took hold. He stopped at a small electronic retailer and bought a new burner phone to call someone he had met at one of the farmers' market he used to work at in order to buy Rosie's - in order to fulfill his dream.

"Hello Carl." "Gerrit? Where are you? People are worrying about you!" Gerrit didn't answer right away. He waited and and listened inside for any clue how this information made him feel. Inside was only the snow-covered clearing full of the idols and memorabilia of Lost friends. "Yes, I'm sorry. There was an emergency in the family, I had to go and visit them." The Ogre didn't give the other man enough time to ask follow-up questions. He let the information drop for half a beat and just carried on. "Listen, could I ask for a favour? Could you stop by Rosie's and put a sign in there that we're closed for the holidays? Uh, maybe call the two temps who are working for me? Their contacts should be at the notice board in the office. In the back." He put enough sorrow and absent-mindedness into his voice to give off the impression of a worried son or uncle. He didn't even question small lies like that anymore. And of course he had answers for all the non-personal follow-ups: where to get a spare key, what to tell the temps, what to do with the flowers that were stored in there. Gerrit gave him the instructions, kept the flow of the conversation at a pace that left little room for real pity. In that way Carl and his old-fashioned view on how much men should be willing to share about their personal lives was a blessing.

While they were talking Gerrit's eyes wandered and landed on a poster, an advertisement for a small, classical concert. Winterreise, performed only by one singer and a piano. Cassandra probably would have liked that. The cracking sound of freezing water filled the air directly surrounding the Onyx' skin as his mantle flared up for a moment. "And you think by January you'll be back?" The cautious tone in Carl's voice brought Gerrit back to the conversation at hand. It sounded as if he was close to asking more personal questions now. "Hard to tell, but I'll keep you posted." A small pause, long enough to sell the idea of a man swallowing his pride. "Thank you, Carl. You're a real life-safer right now." And with that Gerrit was the one to get sentimental first - sparing the other man the same. "Sure thing. You would do the same if the tables were turned."

12. Loneliness


On a whim he decided to stay and see the performance. What ultimately convinced him was the title and the fact that it was a concert for one singer. It felt too fitting to be mere coincidence.

Despite it not being his usual taste in music Gerrit was actually pretty moved by the concert. Maybe Cassandra would have liked it, but just like the wanderer in the songs the Ogre was alone right now.
And Gerrit liked it just fine on his own.

22. Have courage!


He didn't even travel all the way to his old home before turning around again. The Onyx realized that there was no use in tearing open old wounds - he had moved on from that chapter of his life and there was plenty of new Sorrow waiting for him anyway. Once again, Gerrit felt like he understood Winter better: it wasn't about drowning in Sorrow, about wallowing in self-pity. Neither was it about denying it and becoming hard and unfeeling. He wasn't quite sure where to find the happy middle in things. What he was sure about was that this probably wasn't the whole truth yet. There would be more ways for his understanding of Winter to change, and if his sudden departure hadn't burned all the bridges Sacramento was a place where he could (more or less) safely do so.


He would have to reach out to some people there and make amends. He would have to see whether Rosie's could recover from being closed down for almost three months, and if so: how. Most of all he would have to try his best to make this city feel like home for his own sake, not necessarily for anyone else's. People could disappoint you, could hurt you.


Gerrit knew this all too well.