It came out of the Pyramid. Covered in fluid, just like any normal baby. Except it's not like every other baby. It has dark, smooth skin, deep, almond-shaped blue eyes, and a head so full of curled hair that many adults would fawn over. It is a perfect mix of both of them: Cecil and Carlos.

She is theirs.

'She' comes a couple of weeks later, as initially the child has no decipherable gender. City Council decides that via nine-sided coin-toss. "If she wants to," Cecil tells Carlos, "She can still choose to switch when she grows up a bit." Seems reasonable.

She doesn't grow at the same rate as most babies, but then, what else is Carlos supposed to expect from someone born of Night Vale? Through a series of scientific experiments, Carlos concludes that she ages at a rate of about one week per day. It stops after a few months, yet before they know it, Carlos and Cecil have a one year-old daughter.

The markings are always a bit of a shock, but evidently every year of a Night Valean's life is made visible by ink etchings upon their skin. Carlos compares the markings to rings on trees, and Cecil thinks he is very astute to recognize that trees are people like everyone else.

Carlos often forgets to question how the child can belong to both of them, since he's already been made aware that conception in Night Vale is hardly a natural experience. Their child coming from a Pyramid is no stranger than when Carlos had once believed himself to have become pregnant.

"Cecil! Cecil!" he had cried, racing into the Radio Station with sore breasts and an intense craving for pickles.

Cecil didn't bother to remove his headset, so accustomed he was to entertaining his lover's ravings.

"But how on Earth could I possibly be pregnant, Cecil?!"

Cecil gave him a coy smile. "I think we both know the answer to that question, Carlos." He winked, and threw Night Vale to the weather, Carlos suddenly realizing that they had been on the air all along.

It turns out, of course, that Carlos hadn't been pregnant. He is, however, married. Apparently marriages happened in Night Vale when City-Approved couples consume burgers from Arby's on the night of the full moon.

They had been married for months. Cecil assumed he knew.

No, a Pyramid baby is no more bizarre than a male-birthed baby, or a baby that comes from the sea, or from a bee's nest. Carlos is just thrilled that his baby is healthy. And human, though Cecil sometimes notes that is a little closed-minded of him.

Unfortunately, no family is perfect. No marriage is perfect, either.

Cecil has become more and more absent than usual over the past weeks, never bothering to tell his husband where he goes before and afterwork at the Station. His extra hours away give Carlos more time with their daughter, whom they named Josie as an homage to the late-Old Woman Josie.

Well, the once-late-but-then-brought-back-to-life-by-her-angel-friends-not-long-afterwards-Old Woman Josie, to be more specific.

Little Josie is a marvel both as a toddler and a scientific wonder. The more Carlos spends time with her, the less he understands her. The less he understands himself. The less he understands their family.

Josie eats her food a little too cleanly. Josie says her first words a little too early. Josie stares at Cecil a little too intently, and treates Carlos a little too formally.

As the weeks pass, Carlos starts to doubt his involvement in her existence. Yes, she has his brown skin and curly hair, but looks aren't everything, and she is obviously Cecil's daughter in more ways than she has ever been his own.

Then the revelation comes. Cecil is moving crates in the desert for StrexCorp. They have been threatening him, and he has been more than compliant. He hasn't come to Carlos for help, and he has put their family in danger by getting involved in less than legal schemes. Cecil tries to explain that by putting them in danger, he is actually keeping his family safe. He tries to explain that everything he has ever done has been only for Carlos, and now for Little Josie. He tries to explain so many things, but he isn't allowed to use the rights words, and StrexCorp has taken their hold over Cecil Gershwin Palmer.

Everything Carlos holds dear in Night Vale has become a threat to him, and he doesn't know what or whom to trust anymore.

Tonight, Carlos put Josie to sleep. He can't bring himself to kiss her face as he so often does, since he can't keep himself from picturing an omniscient third eye appearing on her forehead as it occasionally does on her father's. She is, after all, Cecil's daughter.

"I'm leaving Night Vale," Carlos tells his husband, shoes already tied.

Cecil pretends not to hear. "Come to bed," he beckons, steadily walking towards to their room. Carlos is frozen in time-not literally, as sometimes happens-and his chest is tense as he tries to keep himself from screaming.

"Nothing makes sense here."

"It makes perfect sense to me."

"You don't make sense, Cecil." Carlos knows that he has to choose his words more carefully, as Cecil's face lights up as though he were just given a great compliment. "I have to go away now. Without you."

Cecil looks like he understands completely and doesn't understand anything all at once. It is the appropriate reaction. "What about Josie? You cannot take her from me. She's ours."

"I'm not taking her."

"Then...who is?"

Carlos sighs, because his head knows what his heart doesn't want to accept. "If she is ours, as you say, then she is also yours. I don't understand so many things, but I believe that in a way I've believed nothing else in my life. She is yours, and I can't trust you anymore."

"Then you can't trust her?"

"Maybe...I need time, Cecil. To think."

"Obviously," Cecil agrees. "It's what Scientists do."

Again, Carlos wants to scream. To fight. To wipe every note of flirtation from Cecil's vocabulary and make him recognize the severity of what he has decided to do. Instead he turns away from the man who fooled him into becoming a husband. It is time to go.

It is time to leave behind the terrifying town, with it's hooded figured and sentient clouds. It's feral dogs and evil librarians. It's faceless old women and five-headed dragons. It's orange groves. It's community radio station.

Carlos takes a step away.

"What kind of a person leaves their own daughter?" Cecil asks, his voice finally etched with the poison Carlos has been praying for this entire time. He turns again, ready to face the man he still loves, but can no longer remain bound unto.

"You used to think I was perfect."

There is a pause. "I still do-"

"-Stop telling lies, Cecil!" Finally, the anger. Cecil looks hurt. Good. At least now he understands exactly what Carlos needs him to see. His third eye is no longer choosing to ignore what has been right in front of them. "I am not perfect, and neither are you, and neither is your child."

"Our child."

Carlos sighs again. "Your child, whom you have put in danger. Or maybe you both are the danger. I will no longer wait around to find out." Cecil still looks broken. Go. Now. Carlos forces himself to turn once again. "Goodbye, Cecil. I'm sorry," he accidentally adds as he opens their apartment door. He has already taken everything of great scientific relevance to the car. He is completely prepared to leave.

Carlos leaves Night Vale behind. He leaves his husband. He leaves the child called Josie.

After all, bad can a person feel when he secretly knows the child isn't really his?