Please Don't Return Me to the Dark of All the Memories

"Morning," Sara said, her voice still thick with sleep.

Kathryn looked up, a faint smile touching her lips. "Good morning," she replied, her voice soft.

Sara sat up, pushing the covers back and stretching again. She couldn't help but notice the lingering tension in her muscles, a reminder of the previous night's… activities. A blush crept up her neck as she recalled the intimate details of her conversation with Kathryn, the vulnerability they had shared, the unspoken desires that had flickered between them.

"Sleep well?" Kathryn asked, her gaze fixed on Sara's.

"Surprisingly, yes," Sara admitted, a playful grin spreading across her lips. "I guess all that… emotional processing really took it out of me."

Kathryn chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Sara's spine. "Indeed," she said, her gaze lingering on Sara's. "It was… a rather intense conversation."

"Intense, but good," Sara said, her voice soft. "I feel like… we understand each other better now."

"Understanding is a valuable tool," Kathryn agreed, her gaze unwavering. "It allows us to anticipate each other's moves, to strategize more effectively."

"It's more than just strategy, Kathryn," Sara said, her voice laced with a hint of defiance. "It's about… connection. Empathy. Trust."

Kathryn's gaze softened, a hint of vulnerability flickering in her eyes. "Perhaps," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Perhaps you're right."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air. Sara's mind raced, replaying the events of the previous night, the intimate confessions, the shared vulnerability. She felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation, a sense of anticipation for what might come next.

"So," she began, breaking the silence, "what's on the agenda for today?"

"Observation," Kathryn said, her gaze drifting towards the window. "Analysis. Strategizing."

"Of course," Sara said, rolling her eyes playfully. "Can't have a day without a healthy dose of strategic planning, can we?"

Kathryn chuckled, a hint of amusement in her voice. "It's what we do best, Sara. It's how we survive."

"But what about… living?" Sara asked, her voice soft. "What about enjoying the moment, experiencing the world, connecting with each other?"

Kathryn's gaze softened, a hint of something akin to longing flickering in her eyes. "Perhaps," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Perhaps there's room for that too."

"Good," Sara said, a playful grin spreading across her lips. "Because I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" Kathryn raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "I'm intrigued. Do tell."

"How about we take a break from the strategizing today?" Sara suggested, her gaze unwavering. "Just for a few hours. We could go for a walk, explore the island, maybe even… have some fun."

"Y'know what, sure," Kathryn accepted, with quicker acceptance than her archetype would suggest. "I'd love that."

"Really?" Sara asked, her eyes widening slightly. "I wasn't sure you'd go for it."

"I'm not entirely devoid of spontaneity, Sara," Kathryn said, a faint smile touching her lips. "Besides, I've learned that sometimes, the best strategies are the ones you don't plan."

"That's… surprisingly insightful," Sara said, her grin widening. "I'm impressed."

"Don't let it go to your head," Kathryn retorted, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Now, let's get ready. We don't want to waste any daylight."

They quickly dressed and left their bungalow, the morning air crisp and refreshing. The island was bathed in sunlight, the vibrant colors of the flora and fauna creating a picturesque scene. They walked side by side, a comfortable silence settling between them.

"Where to?" Sara asked, her gaze drifting towards the lush greenery surrounding them.

"I'm open to suggestions," Kathryn replied, her gaze fixed on the path ahead.

"How about the beach?" Sara suggested, her eyes sparkling. "We could take a dip in the ocean, soak up some sun."

"Sounds… refreshing," Kathryn said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Lead the way."

They made their way towards the beach, the sound of the waves growing louder with each step. The sand was soft and warm beneath their feet, the ocean a shimmering expanse of turquoise. They found a secluded spot, away from the other contestants, and settled down on the sand.

"This is nice," Sara said, stretching out on her towel. "I could get used to this."

"Indeed," Kathryn agreed, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "The tranquility is… appealing."

"See?" Sara said, turning to Kathryn with a triumphant grin. "I told you we needed a break."

Kathryn chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Sara's spine. "You were right," she admitted. "This is… a welcome change of pace."

"Hey y'all!" Charlotte's bubbly voice pierced through the ambient sounds of the wind and the waves as she ran down the beach towards the pair.

"Charlotte!" Sara exclaimed, a mix of surprise and amusement in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Just enjoying the sunshine," Charlotte replied, her smile wide and infectious. "And I saw you two lovebirds and thought I'd join the party."

"Lovebirds?" Kathryn raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "I believe you're mistaken."

"Oh, come on, Kathryn," Charlotte teased, nudging her playfully. "I saw the way you were looking at Sara. You two are practically radiating… something."

"Something?" Sara echoed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "What kind of something?"

"Something… electric," Charlotte said, her eyes sparkling. "Like you're about to… explode."

"Explode?" Kathryn repeated, her brow furrowed. "That's…dramatic."

"But accurate," Charlotte insisted, her grin widening. "I can feel the tension from here. It's like… a **** field of attraction."

Sara chuckled, a mix of embarrassment and amusement washing over her. "You're incorrigible, Charlotte," she said, shaking her head.

"And you love me for it," Charlotte retorted, winking at Sara. "So, what are you two up to? Just soaking up the sun?"

"We were just enjoying a moment of… tranquility," Kathryn said, her gaze fixed on the ocean.

"Tranquility?" Charlotte scoffed playfully. "That's a new one. But hey, I'm all for it. Mind if I join you?"

"Be our guest," Sara said, gesturing to the empty space beside her.

Charlotte plopped down on the sand, her energy infectious, instantly changing the atmosphere from a calm, quiet one, to a playful, energetic one. She pulled a small bottle of sunscreen from her bag and began applying it liberally.

"So," she began, breaking the silence, "any juicy gossip I've missed?"

"Not much," Sara replied. "Just the usual… Kendra shenanigans."

"And the usual… existential dread," Kathryn added, her gaze drifting towards the horizon.

"Oh, you know, the usual," Charlotte said, waving her hand dismissively, laughing as she did. "But hey, at least we have each other, right?"

"Indeed," Kathryn agreed, a faint smile touching her lips.

"And speaking of each other," Charlotte said, her eyes twinkling, "how are things going with… you know?"

"You know what?" Sara asked, her brow furrowed.

"With… Turner," Charlotte clarified, her voice laced with a hint of mischief.

Sara's cheeks flushed slightly. "They're… complicated," she admitted. "But good. I think."

"Complicated?" Charlotte echoed, her eyes widening. "That's an understatement. You two are like… magnets. Always drawn to each other, no matter what."

"Magnets?" Kathryn repeated, her voice laced with skepticism. "That's… an odd analogy."

"But accurate," Charlotte insisted, her grin widening. "I can feel the pull from here. It's like… a cosmic connection."

"Cosmic connection?" Sara chuckled, shaking her head. "You're really laying it on thick, aren't you?"

"Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it," Charlotte said, shrugging her shoulders. "And I see two, no, three people who are clearly meant to be together."

"Three?" Kathryn asked, somewhat surprised. She could understand Charlotte saying something about Turner and Sara, given their history, but she was skeptical about the statement about herself.

"Meant to be?" Sara repeated, her brow furrowed. "That's… a rather deterministic perspective."

"Oh, come on, you two," Charlotte teased, nudging her playfully. "You can't deny the chemistry. It's palpable."

"Palpable?" Kathryn echoed, her voice laced with a hint of doubt. "I believe you're exaggerating."

"Am I?" Charlotte asked, her eyes twinkling. "Or are you just afraid to admit the truth?"

Kathryn's gaze shifted away, a hint of something akin to vulnerability flickering in her eyes. "I'm not afraid of anything," she said, her voice firm.

"Then prove it," Charlotte challenged, her grin widening.

"Prove what?" Kathryn asked, her brow furrowed.

"Prove that you're not afraid," Charlotte said, her gaze unwavering. "That you're not afraid to admit the truth. Prove that you're not afraid to…feel."

A silence fell between them, the weight of Charlotte's challenge hanging heavy in the air. Sara watched them, a mix of curiosity and anticipation washing over her. She had never seen Kathryn so…flustered. She'd definitely never seen her this short for words either, especially given the transformation she'd been given.

"And how, exactly, do you propose I do that?" Kathryn asked, her voice laced with a hint of skepticism.

"By… letting go," Charlotte said, her voice soft. "By allowing yourself to be ****. By… embracing the moment."

"And before you say something about how that's 'abstract' or whatever, it'd not," Sara chimed in, her voice firm. "It's real. It's… now."

She reached out, taking Kathryn's hand in hers. Kathryn's gaze snapped to their intertwined hands, a flicker of surprise crossing her features.

"Charlotte," she began, her voice laced with a hint of warning.

"Oh, relax, Kathryn," Charlotte interjected, her smile disarming. "No one's asking you to jump off a cliff. Not even asking you to do anything you wouldn't want to. Just… breathe. Feel the sun, the sand, the… connection."

Kathryn's gaze shifted from their hands to Sara's eyes, a silent conversation passing between them. Sara's eyes held a warmth, an invitation, a gentle challenge. Kathryn's resolve wavered, the walls she had built around herself slowly crumbling.

"Fine," Kathryn conceded, her voice barely a whisper. "But if this leads to any… undesirable consequences, I'm holding you both accountable."

"Deal," Charlotte said, her grin widening. "Now, let's make the most of this beautiful day."

They spent the next few hours on the beach, laughing, talking, and simply enjoying each other's company. Charlotte's infectious energy filled the air, dispelling the lingering tension and creating an atmosphere of carefree joy. They swam in the ocean, built sandcastles, and even had a spontaneous water balloon fight, using some water balloons Sara found in the shopping area earlier in the week.

Kathryn, surprisingly, seemed to be enjoying herself. She participated in the activities with a cautious enthusiasm, her analytical mind momentarily set aside. Sara watched her, a sense of warmth spreading through her chest. She had never seen Kathryn so relaxed, so… human.

---

The soft glow of the hotel's entrance illuminated Mandy's hesitant steps. She adjusted the unfamiliar dress, a stark contrast to her usual workout attire, and sighed. The date night was upon her, a fact she'd almost forgotten amidst the chaos of Becca's return and the lingering tension in the air. She hadn't even had time to think about what she wanted to do. Usually, she was so prepared for these things. Now? She felt like a fish out of water.

"Great," she muttered to herself, "just great. I'm going to look like a complete idiot."

She rounded a corner, the polished marble floor reflecting her worried expression. Just as she was about to resign herself to a night of awkward small talk, she saw a familiar figure approaching. Lana, her daughter, was walking back from the hotel, her own date night clearly concluded. The sight of her brought a mix of relief and anxiety. They hadn't exactly been on the best of terms lately.

"Lana," Mandy called out, her voice a little louder than she intended.

Lana stopped, her expression shifting from weariness to something akin to guarded neutrality. "Mandy," she replied, her voice flat.

"Listen," Mandy began, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress, "I know things have been… strained between us."

"Strained is putting it mildly," Lana retorted, her gaze unwavering. "You haven't exactly been thrilled with my existence lately."

"That's not fair," Mandy protested, a flicker of defensiveness in her voice. "I was just… worried. I wanted to protect you."

"By pushing me away?" Lana asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. "By treating me like a child?"

Mandy sighed, the weight of their past arguments settling over her. "I know I messed up, Lana. I was trying to do what I thought was best, but I went about it all wrong. I'm sorry."

Lana's expression softened slightly, but her eyes remained wary. "Sorry doesn't change what happened, Mandy. You made me feel like I wasn't good enough, like I was a burden."

"That's not how I meant it," Mandy said, her voice trembling. "I just… I was scared. This game, it's changed everything. And I didn't want you to lose yourself."

"And what about you?" Lana asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Have you lost yourself?"

Mandy paused, her gaze drifting towards the distant lights of the hotel. She was unsure about what to say, exactly. She'd tried to reach out to Lana multiple times, but after a series of ill-timed events, had backed off somewhat.

"Look, I don't exactly know why you chose now to do this," Lana sighed deeply. "The last 48 hours have been a complete rollercoaster, and you choose now to try and make amends with me?"

"Are you really-" Mandy began, her temper beginning to flare.

"Am I really what?" Lana challenged. "Are you trying to treat me like I'm still a child? I'm twenty-fucking-two for crying out loud. And this place is hardly a place where being someone's child matters! Have you seen where we are? Open up your eyes, Mom."

Mandy's breath hitched, the word "Mom" echoing in the sudden silence between them. It had been a long time since Lana had used that word, and the raw emotion behind it caught her off guard.

"Lana, I—" she started, but the words caught in her throat. She felt a surge of emotions: guilt, regret, and a **** longing to bridge the chasm that had grown between them.

"Don't," Lana interrupted, her voice tight. "Don't try to explain. Just… tell me the truth. Why now? Why are you suddenly trying to be a mother again?"

Mandy's gaze fell to the marble floor, the reflection of the hotel lights blurring through the tears that threatened to spill. "Because," she whispered, her voice cracking, "because I realized I was losing you. And because… because what happened to Becca… it scared me. It made me realize how fragile everything is. How easily we can lose ourselves, lose each other."

She looked up at Lana, her eyes pleading. "I don't want to lose you, Lana. Not like this. Not ever."

Lana's expression softened, but her eyes remained wary. "You have a funny way of showing it," she said, her voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "Pushing me away, pretending I'm not here… that's not exactly what I'd call motherly."

"I know," Mandy admitted, her voice trembling. "I was wrong. I was so afraid of seeing you change that I didn't realize I was pushing you away. I was so worried about you losing yourself, I forgot that I was losing you too."

A silence fell between them, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air. Lana's gaze shifted towards the hotel, her expression a mix of sadness and resignation.

"It's not that simple, Mandy," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Things have changed. I've changed. And I don't know if we can ever go back to how things were."

"We don't have to go back," Mandy said, her voice filled with a newfound determination. "We can build something new. We can find a way to understand each other, to accept each other. But we have to try, Lana. We have to try."

Lana looked at her, her eyes searching Mandy's. "Try what?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of skepticism.

"Try to be a family again," Mandy said, her voice firm. "Try to be a mother and daughter. Not perfect, not without flaws, but… real."

Lana hesitated, her gaze drifting towards the ground. "Real," she echoed, her voice barely audible. "I don't even know what that means anymore. It's been eighteen days that I've been here and I've already lost my name, my identity, my best friend is supposed to be my boyfriend according to this show, his girlfriend almost got transformed into something unrecognizable, and my own mother. Do you realize how shitty that is? That while I was here, suffering this way, you just up and abandoned me?"

"Now, I wasn't the one who abandoned you," Mandy countered. "You were the one actively running away from me."

"Because I was scared!" Lana admitted, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Do you honestly think that when your own child is scared and running away from everything, the best thing to do is to just let them go?"

"Lana," Mandy said, her voice soft, "I never meant to abandon you. I was trying to give you space, to let you figure things out on your own. I thought that's what you wanted."

"Wanted?" Lana scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "I didn't know what I wanted! I was lost, confused, terrified. And you, the one person who was supposed to be there for me, just… disappeared."

"I was still here," Mandy protested, her voice laced with a hint of desperation. "I was watching you, worrying about you. I just didn't know how to reach you."

"By yelling at me? By acting like I was some kind of… experiment gone wrong?" Lana asked, her voice trembling. "That's how you thought you could reach me?"

Mandy's gaze fell to the ground, the weight of her mistakes pressing down on her. "No," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I know I messed up. I was scared, Lana. I was so scared of losing you, of seeing you change into someone I didn't recognize, that I… I reacted badly."

"And what about me?" Lana asked, her voice laced with a hint of anger. "Wasn't I allowed to be scared? Wasn't I allowed to change? Or was I just supposed to stay the same, to be the person you wanted me to be?"

"No, Lana, that's not what I meant," Mandy said, her voice pleading. "I just… I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't know how to be a mother to someone who was going through something like this."

"Maybe you should have tried," Lana retorted, her voice hard. "Maybe you should have tried to understand, to listen. Instead, you just… judged. You pushed me away, and you made me feel like I was all alone."

"I'm so sorry, Lana," Mandy said, her voice cracking. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I was so caught up in my own fears that I didn't see how much I was hurting you."

"And what about now?" Lana asked, her gaze unwavering. "Are you still scared? Are you still worried that I'm going to turn into someone you don't recognize?"

Mandy hesitated, her gaze searching Lana's. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But I'm willing to try. I'm willing to try to understand, to accept, to… to be a mother again."

Lana searched for the words to try and respond. She knew that she couldn't just keep shunning her mother, but in another way, something still didn't seem right with the situation.

"Have fun on your date," was what she settled on as she brushed past, leaving her mom standing there near the entrance to the hotel.

Mandy watched Lana disappear down the boardwalk, her heart heavy with a mixture of regret and frustration. She knew she'd made mistakes, big ones, but she'd hoped that her apology, her vulnerability, would have made a difference. Instead, she was left standing alone, the echo of Lana's harsh words ringing in her ears.

"Well," she muttered to herself, forcing a wry smile, "that went about as well as expected."

She straightened her dress, took a deep breath, and continued towards the dining area. She couldn't dwell on the past; she had a date to get through, a show to put on. She just hoped she wouldn't make a complete fool of herself.

The dining area was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting a romantic ambiance. Turner sat at a table near the window, his expression a mix of weariness and polite anticipation. He looked up as Mandy approached, a faint smile touching his lips.

"Hey, Mandy," he said, his voice gentle. "You look… nice."

"Thanks," Mandy replied, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. "You don't look half bad yourself."

They settled into their seats, an awkward silence stretching between them. Mandy fidgeted with her napkin, unsure of what to say. Turner's gaze drifted towards the window, his expression distant.

"So," Mandy began, breaking the silence, "how are you holding up?"

"As well as can be expected," Turner replied, his voice laced with a hint of irony. "It's been…a weird couple days."

"That's putting it mildly," Mandy agreed. "I still can't believe they reversed Becca's transformation."

"Me neither," Turner said, his gaze fixed on the flickering candle. "It felt like a miracle."

"And what about you?" Mandy asked, her voice soft. "How are you really doing?"

Turner hesitated, his gaze shifting away. "I'm… I'm a mess," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I feel guilty, angry, relieved… all at the same time. Becca… I can't believe what happened to her."

"It wasn't your fault, Turner," Mandy said, her voice gentle. "You did everything you could."

"I know, but… I still feel like I should have done more," he said, his voice laced with a hint of self-reproach. "I should have seen how much she was struggling."

"We all should have," Mandy said, her gaze fixed on the table. "But we were all so caught up in our own… dramas. We didn't see what was happening right in front of us."

"And now she's… different," Turner said, his voice barely a whisper. "Even though she's back to her old self, things have changed."

"Things have changed for all of us," Mandy said, her gaze meeting his. "This… experience, it's changed us in ways we don't even understand yet."

They fell into a comfortable silence, the unspoken weight of their shared experiences hanging heavy in the air. Mandy watched Turner, his expression a mix of sadness and determination. She felt a surge of empathy for him, for the burden he carried.

"You know," Mandy began, breaking the silence, "you're not alone in this, Turner. We're all in this together."

"I know," Turner said, a faint smile touching his lips. "But it's… it's hard. Sometimes I feel like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders."

"That's because you're a good person, Turner," Mandy said, her voice sincere. "You care about everyone, and you want to make things right. But you can't carry everyone's burdens. You have to let us help you."

"I appreciate that, Mandy," Turner said, his gaze meeting hers. "But I don't want to be a burden to anyone."

"You're not a burden," Mandy said, her voice firm. "You're a friend. And friends help each other."

They spent the rest of the date talking, sharing stories, and laughing. They talked about their lives before the show, their hopes and dreams, and their fears for the future. They talked about Becca, about the other contestants, and about the strange, surreal world they found themselves in.

As the evening wore on, the tension that had hung over them began to dissipate. They found a sense of comfort in each other's company, a shared understanding that transcended the artificiality of their surroundings.

"This is nice," Mandy said, her voice soft. "Almost… normal."

"Yeah," Turner agreed, his gaze drifting towards the starlit sky. "Almost."

They sat in silence for a moment, the gentle rhythm of the music providing a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

"You know," Turner said, breaking the silence, "I'm glad we had this date. Even if it's under… less than ideal circumstances."

"Me too," Mandy said, a genuine smile flickering across her lips. "It's nice to have a moment of… peace."

"Peace," Turner echoed, a hint of irony in his voice. "In this place?"

"Even here," Mandy said, her gaze unwavering. "We can find moments of peace. We just have to look for them."

"And what about you?" Turner asked, his voice soft. "Are you at peace, Mandy?"

Mandy hesitated, her gaze drifting towards the ground. "Not entirely," she admitted. "I still have… things to figure out."

"Like what?" Turner asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

"Like… my relationship with Lana," Mandy said, her voice barely a whisper. "I messed up, Turner. I pushed her away when she needed me most. And now… I don't know if I can fix it."

"You can try," Turner said, his voice gentle. "That's all any of us can do. Try to make things right."

"But what if it's too late?" Mandy asked, her voice trembling. "What if I've already lost her?"

"Then you keep trying," Turner said, his gaze unwavering. "You never give up on the people you love."

Mandy looked at him, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Turner," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You always know what to say."

"I'm just trying to help," Turner said, his smile warm and genuine. "Just like you're trying to help me."

They shared a moment of genuine connection, a reminder of the bonds that had formed amidst the chaos of the show.

"We should probably get back," Mandy said, her voice laced with a hint of ****. "Kendra's probably watching."

"Yeah," Turner agreed, rising from his chair. "But… thanks, Mandy. For everything."

"Anytime, Turner," Mandy said, her smile warm and genuine. "Anytime."

They walked back towards the hotel, the lingering tension of the day fading into the background. They knew that their fight was far from over, but for now, they allowed themselves a moment of peace, a brief respite from the storm.