Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Barbara Handler takes a deep breath.

To the average person that sounds like an indication, a storytelling-prefix for something important, a revelation, a great decision, a plot-twist. And their intuition is proven right to some extent. But this action of closing her eyes, taking a deep breath trough her nose and exhaling trough her mouth, is something she’s done quite often in the past few months. It got less and less over time, since she got used to it, something she doesn't pay attention to anymore. But there was a point where the act of breathing was new to her and being able to do it was exciting, causing her to exercise this new quality at random and often inappropriate moments, which often raised concerns in her immediate environment that she would fall victim to a panic attack or going into premature labour at any second.

Because one thing she had understood in the last few months:
People have eyes to see and to judge. However, she still struggles to tell the difference between a pair of eyes staring at her in judgement or concern. It’s hard to tell. For a long time she settled down on the assumption that you could differentiate it by the position and movement of the eyebrows, but she soon realised that it wasn’t that simple. Sometimes people give weird looks, but still mean well. Sometimes people act like they mean well, but simultaneously give a weird side eye to others while suppressing an invidious snicker.

Barbara has learned quite many things. More than she thought there could ever be to know and yet there’s more! Not all of it is pleasant. Not all people are nice.

She takes a deep breath again. She isn’t about to make a big decision. She’s already made one a few days ago. Gloria had advised her against it, she wasn’t opposed to the idea completely, she just thought it would be too soon. Sasha thought differently, she was on her side. At least as much as she would ever be on anyone’s side. Leaning over her cereal bowl, letting the spoon apathetically swing between her fingers, shrugging, dunking the spoon in, putting it in her mouth, shrugging again, before saying: "Just let her go, mom."
That’s about the most support you could get from a teenager like her and yet Barbara greatly appreciated it. At this point, she has known the girl long enough to be able to read her, because in truth, Sasha always means much more than she is willing to express verbally. This is a common trait in teenagers, at least that’s what Barbara has convinced herself of, and at times she mourns the fact that she never got to live as a teenager, experiencing a tumultuous puberty. A thought, on whose first verbal utterance the following comment from Sasha fell: "Consider yourself lucky, Barb."

In the end, her daughter's comment surely didn’t convince Gloria, but Barbara's determination was enough of a clue, that the Mattel-employee wouldn’t be able to talk her out of it.
Barbara loves Gloria and her daughter Sasha to bits. They’re basically family to her, having helped her trough all the trouble in recent times. She even has her own flat now, has gotten used to utilise a toilet, has her own car (and actual legal drivers licence), and a job to go along with it all. She still struggles with understanding how to pay her bills, but Gloria did assure her that this kind of struggle is universal.

Barbara ties her roller skates. She hasn’t done this in a while and admittedly, she has slight difficulties keeping her balance. Quite embarrassing, let’s just hope no one notices. It’s like riding a bike, you can’t unlearn that…let’s not jinx anything.
She begins to move, slightly awkwardly. With her arms she rows herself back into a balanced position and in fact: she is standing. Well, she stands rolling. Now: One foot after the other and always build up enough momentum. That isn’t so hard! You go girl!

Barbara smiles to herself as she moves faster with more confidence. There’s a familiar feeling and it’s exciting. Almost as exciting as breathing. Emphasis on almost!
She’s skating along Malibu Beach, the wind in her hair, it feels amazing. Wind was one of the first things she knew she would forever love about the real world. From afar she recognises the backdrop that is slowly being pushed together. Barbara fixes her gaze on it purposefully and steps up a gear. She still remembers all the steps. "Just do it backwards." she thinks, as she rushes past the backdrop.

A pair of skates, a snowmobile, a camper, a rocket, a boat, a bike and a car.

The car is her favourite part. It’s a cute pink little vehicle, chugging leisurely down the street and always playing the same song:

"And I went to the doctor,
I went to the mountains
looked to the children,
I drank from the fountains
There's more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
And the less I seek my source for some definitive
Closer I am to fine, yeah
Closer I am to fine, yeah"

Music is something Barbara has always known and loved. And it had filled her with relief to learn that it also exists in the real world. In fact, music was invented to make life more beautiful. And she agrees. It makes everything nicer and above all more bearable. She sings along loudly, smiling brightly trough the song and from afar she can already see the massive rainbow on the horizon with the curved lettering: BarbieLand.

She smiles brightly, she’s excited. All worry is gone. Because she is here to visit her friends.

Her name’s Barbara Handler, that’s the identity she has carved out for herself. But not today.

Today she’s Barbie.

Chapter Text

Midge is in good spirits, watering the flowers in her garden. Well, at least she pretends to because there's no water coming out of the jug, in fact Midge doesn't even really know what water is. And even if you were to ask her, she would probably describe the blue plastic disk in her neighbour's' garden or the wave on the beach that seems to have frozen mid-movement.

No one needs water in Barbieland, after all, life here is one big game of pretend. Midge pretends to water the flowers, which didn't need that anyway since they're plastic, just like the artificial grass, just like the house, just like Midge herself.

Midge was first released by Mattel in 1963 as Margaret "Midge" Hadley Sherwood and marketed as Barbie's best friend. The Irish-american doll was re-introduced in 1988 as part of the play line and with her now somewhat iconic look: redheaded, freckled and blue eyed. The Happy Family series she was a part of was quick to retire after absurd accusations of it promoting teen pregnancy. Mattel would really like you to forget about all of that, especially after 2013 when the Midge doll got a new image. But Midge herself knows very well who she is, namely the spitting image of everything Barbie isn’t:
A family person, a housewife and a modest neighbour and she liked being that. And she greatly appreciated being accepted among the career driven Barbies.

A purple convertible drives by her house and Midge waves at Barbie (Emma Mackey) and Ken (Ncuti Gatwa), although the gesture gets slightly more reluctant as it’s addressed to Ken. Unlike most of the Barbies, Midge hadn't suffered a sudden amnesia about the Kens turning Barbie Land into a patriarchy. She was quite aware of what they had done to the Barbies and, above all, how Ken (Ryan Gosling) had spoken to her friend Barbie after kicking her out of her own house.

Still, Midge tries not to come across as too resentful and to be friendly despite everything. She is just about to put down the still completely empty watering can when another car drives by.
Like all Barbies and Kens, Midge has an instinct to greet anyone who passes her. Which is why she straightens up and raises her arm, but the words "Hey Barbie!" get stuck in her throat and if breathing were something she could do..let’s say she'd have two things blocking her throat.
"Hi Midge!" calls a friendly voice as clear as bells. A bright white smile and sparkling blue eyes greet her. The little pink car stops in front of Midge's garden gate. "How are you, sweetheart?"

It’s her! It’s Stereotypical-Barbie! Oh, Midge had always been certain, she would return eventually. A hundred years from now, she couldn't imagine the real world being even remotely bearable.

For the first few minutes, Midge is completely speechless, which isn't often the case for her. She is usually characterised by a pronounced love of chatting. Such a situation could cause a traffic jam in her voice box, should too many thoughts build up in her head with no way of getting out.

Barbie winks at her sweetly. "You look at me like I'm a carton of expired milk."

"I uh." Midge stammers. That doesn't happen often either. "What does 'expired' mean?"

Before Barbie can explain it to her, Midge has already pulled herself together, she hurries open her garden gate and happily comes towards Barbie, hugging her beloved friend while she is still sitting in the car. At first she’s taken aback, but then resorts to happy giggling. "Oh wow, Hi!"

"Oh, I knew it! I always knew, you'd come back, Barbie!" she gushes as she hugs Barbie tightly. "I knew it, in the name of Ruth. I knew it, I told them all and they didn’t believe me!"

She lets go of Barbie, still beaming. "Come on! Get out, come in, I've got tea and cookies."
Still laughing, Barbie quickly gets out of her car to let her former neighbour drag her along. "That sounds great, it’s so nice to see you too!"

Midge's kitchen is small and unassuming, but cosy. Barbie sits at the table and looks around while her red-haired companion hurries through the kitchen cabinets. The room has a low ceiling, there isn't a lot of space, and in general, Barbie is having to get used to the fact that the Barbie houses are open on one side and anyone passing by can look inside. It didn't bother her before. After all, she had nothing to hide. She doesn't have anything to hide now either. But she still shudders at the phenomenon of the judgmental looks in the real world.

For now, she consoles herself with the knowledge that Midge would never judge her for anything. Simply because she is incapable of it.

"Thanks." says Barbie as Midge hands her a cup of tea. Immediately afterwards she notices that there is no tea or any liquid in it. Oh right. She remembers. Barbies don't drink, they just pretend to. She smiles over the disappointment, actually she would have liked a cup of tea now.

"I'm not surprised you're back so soon." Midge starts talking again. "I've already made bets with the others, you know? No one guessed as early as I did. My goddess, Barbie now owes me a plate of cupcakes!" Midge puts her hand on her hip in astonishment at the realisation. "And Barbie insisted you'd never come back ever. Can you imagine? Me, Barbie and Barbie were rightfully appalled."

"Uhm, can you reiterate which Barbie did what now?" Barbie asks carefully, but Midge overheard that in her eagerness. I mean come on. The real world?" Midge addresses an invisible audience. Barbie takes a glimpse outside, just to be safe, but there is no one there.

"What's so great about the real world? It's creepy, cruel, and painful. You're better off here, girl."

Barbie hesitantly raises her finger. "Well actually..."

"Oh, I don't even want to know what other awful things happened to you there. What you said last time was bad enough and the ideals Ken brought home from this world…absolutely unacceptable. Dreadful! What he did to our beautiful home…"

Barbie smiles politely. "You’re right, but-"
"A sensible decision on your part to come back." Midge tells her appreciatively. "I can't blame you, our world is still the best-"

"I'm not coming back, Midge."

It's unbearably quiet for a while.
It's only now that Barbie notices how quiet it is, except for soft music from afar. A little birdsong would do this world a favour. Actually, she first noticed the silence when she started to become a system error. The cold silence that creeps into your thoughts at night...

At that time, Barbie didn't know anything about birds. Barbie likes birds.

"I'm not moving back to Barbieland, Midge." Barbie clarifies, in an apologetic tone. "I have a new home now."
Midge stares at her in disbelief, her mouth opening and closing once.
"Oh." she says perplexed. "But...what about the cellulite, the morning breath, the flat feet and..." Midge looks around carefully, scurrying closer to Barbie and whispering, "the thoughts of death?"

Barbie gives her an enlightened smile. "Cellulite isn't that bad. It's scary at first, but once you realise it happens to everyone at some point, it doesn't seem so terrible. Human bodies age. And the thoughts of death..." Barbie pauses. "Well...I haven't figured out a way to get around those yet, but I don't think most people have. Most just ignore them, so...I guess I'll do that too." She smiles brightly.
Midge shakes her head almost imperceptibly. "And the patriarchy? What about that? How do you stand it?"

"I uh...don't know. I suppose most women just put up with it by ignoring it or...maybe even denying it. I don't want to do the latter. Most probably do it for self-defense, which I can understand. It's worse in some places than in others. Still, it's...I don't want to. I don't know." She looks helplessly at Midge. "I want to have ideas to help against it. Do you know what suffragettes are?"

"You can't be serious." Midge interrupts. "What could possibly be worth all the trouble?"
Barbie thinks for a while. "Ducks." she then says.
Midge frowns. "Ducks?"

"Yes." Barbie smiles enraptured.

Sasha recently showed her a duck pond. She almost cried when she saw the perfect little creatures, paddling in the water with their tiny feet and pretty beady eyes. At first Barbie didn't understand why something so beautiful could make her sad until Sasha explained that it was tears of joy that were gathering in her eyes. That was one of her most beautiful discoveries. Humans don’t just cry when their sad. The knowledge that sometimes any emotion could be so intense that your body just can’t handle it anymore was…overwhelming. But in the end, it was the type of awareness she was grateful for.

"And wind. You know what wind is? It’s the most beautiful thing. It’s like a blow dryer, just so much more gentle and it’s wonderful when it strokes your hair and cheeks like…" Barbie stops mid sentence. She’s missing a word. It’s on the tip of her tongue, like it’s about to tumble out of her mouth like little pearls. But it doesn’t come to that. Midge waits for her to continue. "Like…like what?"

"I.. I don’t know." Barbie admits reluctantly, mostly because she's now plagued by doubt. She’s doubting the validity of her excitement. She’s clearing her throat. "I was just thinking-"

She doesn’t get further than that, there’s the sound of foot steps coming from outside. The door bell rings. It’s a loud and jarring noise, but at the same time it set off a weird, tingly feeling in Barbie's chest. Like something inside her is yearning for something long gone. She’s too busy analysing her inner mechanisms to pay attention to Midge making her way to the door and as Barbie snaps back to reality, Alan has already entered the kitchen, almost dropping the grocery bags he carried along when he discovered Barbie sitting at the kitchen table.

"Hi Alan." Barbie greets him, now in a slightly somber tone, but still accompanied by a friendly smile.
"Oh uh, Hi.." Alan greets back and for some reason his awkwardness feels right at home for her. He slowly puts the bags down, without taking his eyes off her. One of the bags topples over and all Alan can manage do to as a reaction is turning to look at it. Barbie stifles a quick snicker. Alan looks back at her and smiles.

"Wait, let me help you." Barbie gets up from her seat, picks up one of the grocery bags and puts it on the table from where she helps Alan to put everything in the cupboards.

Alan (previously spelled Allan) was a discontinued doll named after the son-in-law of Mattel co-founder Ruth Handler. The first Alan doll was released in 1964 with the title of Ken's friend who could also fit into Ken's clothes.
Privately, Alan has to admit that he always preferred Barbie over Ken. Not in the sense that he wanted to steal someone else's girlfriend. He just liked Barbie more, she was friendlier and more reasonable. In addition, Alan was not sure for a long time whether Ken had ever considered him a best friend. After all, the little time they spent together was marked by Ken having to vent about his jealousy towards the other Kens. Alan basically had no sympathy for this jealousy, after all, from his point of view, there was never any danger that Barbie could ever be interested in the other Kens.
In fact, Barbie has never been interested in a Ken, including her Ken. That is the one thing that Alan did consider to be slightly unfair. Not her disinterest, but the general neglect of the Kens. On the other hand, Alan doesn't want to see another patriarchal uprising ever again under any circumstances. He is happy with his life the way it is now. It's nice to have you back." Alan says good-naturedly and Barbie bites her lip subtly. She takes another milk carton out of the bag and looks at it. It's bigger than the milk cartons in the real world, and of course there's no content. You can't open it either, it's just a block of plastic. Why would you have to buy new milk every time when it never runs out anyway?
Oh right. Pretend.

"She won't stay." they hear Midge's voice. She's standing in the doorway, one hand on her pregnant belly. For just a second, Barbie is briefly afraid that these words will result in her being thrown out. She doesn’t really know what made her think that, Midge would never do that. In fact she gives Barbie a smile. "I tried to convince her otherwise. She won’t listen."

Alan gives Barbie a puzzled look. "Oh? What are you here for then?"

"I uh…" Barbie exchanges uncertain looks between the two of them. "I…I am here to-"

What is she supposed to reply? That she just felt like it? They'd probably tolerate that as an answer, there’s no reason to get defensive. But Barbie feels the strong urge to explain herself. While thinking, she notices the pink aeroplane in the sky that she used to see every morning. It’s like Barbie can basically feel a light bulb turn on above her head. Probably unrelated to the fact that Midge just turned the kitchen lights on.
"I'm..I'm on vacation!" Barbie beams at them, full of pride. "I’m taking a vacation!"

Alan nods slowly. "Like Tourist Ken?"

"Yes!" A strong sense of relief rushes trough her. "Humans take vacations all the time. Just not..not all the time, but every time they feel like they need it. And I just needed it." She laughs in a nervous matter, although she’s not nervous anymore and she excitedly points at her two friends. "I needed to see you guys again!"

"Oh okay!" Alan smiles, still uncertain, but flattered. So does Midge. "Well…here we are."

"Yeah.." Barbie replies, a little air-headed. "There you are….So, what are you guys up to? I talked about myself way too much. Have the two of you…always been close?"

Barbie realises that she had never noticed a close friendship between Alan and Midge before and for a moment she regrets it. What she doesn't know (at least doesn't know anymore), and what Alan and Midge themselves are no longer aware of, is the fact that they were once sold as a married/parenting couple.
That would certainly explain why of all the Barbies and Kens, Alan feels most committed to supporting Midge during her pregnancy.

"How much longer is it going to be?" Barbie wants to know. Midge raises her eyebrows. "What?"

"Well um. When are you due? You know..." Barbie gestures awkwardly at Midge's round belly. "You've been pregnant for quite some time now."

"Oh, I know." Midge replies happily as if she’s received a complement for her hair. "That’s just who I am."

"Uh huh." is all that Barbie can manage to say and to save the situation, Alan chimes in once more: "You know, if you’re really on vacation…why don’t we go to the beach?"

Chapter Text

The beach is busy, as always. An artificial sun burns down from above, but it wouldn't harm anyone anyway, because plastic doesn't get sunburnt. The Barbies hop around the volleyball net, whirling up clouds of sand. One of the Barbies steps aside and waves. "Hi Ken! Do you want to join us?"

The Ken in question, stereotypically blond and blue-eyed, looks up from his sandcastle. "I'm...kind of in the middle of something..."

"Busy doing Beach?" asks the brunette Barbie curiously.

"Nope."

Minutes earlier, Ken (Simu Liu) had claimed that Ken's sandcastles would never be as cool and swag as his own, and of course Ken couldn't let that sit on his shoulders. He even collected shells to decorate the castle. Not swag enough. This braggart will see.
"Don't always let him get to you." the Barbie rebukes him. "Come on, get up. Time for morning exercise!"

Ken grins to himself. Lately, the Barbies have decided to let the Kens play with them. It's actually more fun that way.
He jumps up and takes one last look at the rivalling sandcastle. A smug smile escapes him. The competition is basically nonexistent, that’s for sure. Ken joins the Barbies in their game of beach-volley and he’s actually quite good at it. Naturally, as soon as something has the word 'beach' in its name, he must be good at it.
And the Barbies can appreciate it when someone's good at Beach. His teammates cheer him on when the ball flies his way and cheer when he scores them a point. And Ken basks in the attention like a dandelion in the sunlight.

But once he catches the ball too hard, it flies over the heads of the other team's Barbies and hops away. One of the Barbies points after the ball! "Bring it back!"

Ken points away from him. "Why can't the cheerleading Kens do that?"
He's barely finished the question when one of the Barbies on his team gives him a harmless slap on the back. "Don't be silly, they're busy cheerleading. They can't do everything. Come on, Giddy up!"

As if suddenly bitten by a tarantula, Ken jumps up and eagerly chases after the ball as it rolls across the sandbank where some towels cross his path. Ken jumps around the confused sunbathing Barbies "Sorry, oops my bad." He gives each one an apologetic smile and continues to follow the ball, speeding up his chase. "Will you..."

The ball slowly decelerates, rolls over another striped towel, against a portable freezer, and stops. A Barbie is lying on her back on the towel, her arms crossed behind her head and a sun hat over her face.

"Hey sorry." Ken smiles and bends down for the ball. "Wasn't personal."

The Barbie in front of him takes off her hat and sits up from her lying position. "If I were superstitious, I'd take it personally." she says.

Ken's smile dies. Not because of what the other person said, he wouldn't have realised it was a joke anyway.

The Barbie pushes up her sunglasses and smiles at him. "What is it, don't you recognise me anymore?"

It can’t be…

It's Barbie. It's THAT Barbie. It's his Barbie!

Ken can't react at all, as if his stimulus receptors were frozen (if he has such a thing at all). He can't think properly either. In this moment, his thoughts most closely resemble TV static.
That's impossible to be true, None of this can be real. It can't be her. Barbie has left Barbieland long ago. Without him. For good reason.

But it is her. Her silky straw-blonde hair, her cheeky smile, her eyes that sparkle when she's happy. It's undeniably her. Aren't you going to say hello, Ken?" Barbie tilts her head questioningly.

"What are you doing here?" asks Ken hoarsely.

Barbie contently hugs her drawn up knees. "I'm coming to visit you." she replies cheekily.
Her voice flows like honey. Nothing has changed, absolutely nothing has changed. Everything is still the same as before. Ken trembles a little. It's as if the house of cards that he had painstakingly built over months were finally collapsing. His fingers imperceptibly dig into the volleyball he's still holding. "..Why."

Barbie's smile freezes slightly as she eyes him with a slightly worried expression. "Are you not well?-"
Ken shakes his head. Not as an answer to her question, but more as an involuntary gesture of desperation. He notices how an oppressive feeling of panic grips his body. His condition is like that of a hunted rabbit. "No-" he says in a shaky voice before it takes on a hint of anger. "You shouldn't have come here."
He said it relatively quietly, but the statement hit like a bomb. Barbie looks up at him in disbelief while Ken tries to control himself through clenched teeth.

"If only you had stayed away...why are you doing this to me?" Now he had gotten a little louder. Barbie freezes under his reproachful gaze. Unable to reply anything.

Ken tosses the ball to the side, turns, and stomps away resolutely.

He meets Alan at the juice bar. Ken feels like grabbing him by the collar, but he pulls himself together. He recently read a social science article on toxic masculinity, which enlightened him that letting out your frustrations on other guys is not proper, especially when it's about a girl.

Alan, who's the best friend by profession, of course knows immediately what's going on when Ken morosely stomps through the juice bar's saloon doors, pretending he casually strolled through and wasn't unexpectedly pushed inside by the doors swinging back.
"Okay I can explain." Alan starts before Ken interrupts him: "Why is she here?"

"Like I said, I can explain. Barbie is taking a vacation here."
"Vacation?!" Ken has the horrible feeling he's being messed with. "What do you mean vacation? She doesn't look like the Barbies and Kens whose jobs are vacations."

"She's on vacation in the sense that she's taking a break." Alan has the patience of a saint.
"I don't understand why you're so upset..."

Ken runs his hands trough his hair resignedly and groans in desperation. "That's terrible! Horrible!"

"Would you be so kind as to enlighten me as to why this is awful?" asks Alan. Ken spins around and gives him a blank look, as if the reason for his behaviour is more than obvious.
"Dude, don't you get it? I've been working my butt off non-stop for the past few months to start a new life. A barbie-free life. The life where Ken realises he can be a Ken without Barbie. Man, I needed two weeks of practice to be able to describe my personality convincingly!"

"You don’t have a personality." Alan retorts and Ken whimpers in defeat. "I know!"

Barbie's return is the best thing that could have happened to him. And that's exactly the problem.

Over the past few weeks, Ken has been practicing the act of 'forgetting'.

He has read insightful books, avoided self-help coaches, tried to acquire hobbies, keep a diary, drive a bike and car himself, call the dentist himself, visit the dentist himself and above all: Forgetting Barbie.
Because all of this was only possible when he could persuade himself not to think about Barbie and especially not about the fact that he misses her terribly.

"Do I get that right..." Alan studies the ceiling of the juice bar thoughtfully. "You're mad because you're happy about her coming back?" He gives Ken a confused look.

Ken gestures overwhelmed with his hands. Expressing his frustrations verbally has never been his forte. "No! Yes but no..No, but..yes kinda. Yes, but not like that-" He sighs in surrender. "You know…the fact that I'm happy just proves one thing: that I haven't achieved anything. That all my progress lately has been completely in vain." He buries his face in his hands.

Alan watches his Mattel-imposed best friend sink into self-pity. Yet again. This is by far not the first time he has witnessed Ken digging himself a hole instead of facing his troubles and yet Alan still puts up with it. And that is the most realistic part about him as the perfect guy best friend. "Now don't be silly." Alan offers him a mai tai. Ken takes the glass and pretends to drink from it, as if the straw wasn't just a piece of plastic fused to another piece of plastic.
"That's better, isn't it?" Alan gives him a supportive pat on the back. "Come on, pull yourself together and say hi to her."

"I already did." Ken mumbles quietly.

"Well that’s great!" Alan exclaims relieved. "Then what are you fussing about?"

Ken looks at him, then at the floor. That nanosecond of eye contact let more information slip out than Alan could’ve ever acquired through intense questioning. He sighs. "You did something really stupid didn’t you?"

Ken squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip. Then he slowly nods, almost hoping Alan doesn’t take notice, but he does.

"Ken..." Alan sighs unhappily. "Don't tell me you behaved like a jackass on her first day back home."

"I can't guarantee that," says Ken, looking up and blinking away nonexistent tears. He clears his throat. "I might have uhm…exploded in her face a little."

Alan widens his eyes. "You yelled at her?"

"No! Not really…." He says the last part a little more quietly before averting his eyes again, ashamed.
Alan closes his eyes in exasperation. The dolls are not made to believe in a God, but if there’s a Lord out there, she's surely testing him a lot right now.
"And..what exactly made you believe that was a good idea?" His tone of voice is cynical.

"Because I still love her!" Ken exclaims.

Meanwhile Barbie is still sitting on her towel, very distraught.

What just happened? Who does he think he is? At first, she is filled with anger, a feeling she never really liked and still doesn't like now. Anger is terrible, it's selfish. It is not the experience of feeling anger that is selfish, but the emotion itself as an entity. It takes up more space than deserved, it eats its host from the inside out like a parasite, it burns and hurts.

Then the anger melts like a block of ice. Now Barbie just feels bad. Maybe his behaviour isn't so irrational. After all, she had left without the slightest sign of ever coming back. She remembers the way he just looked at her. As if she were a ghost. She must have given him a tremendous fright.

Determined, Barbie gets to her feet and makes her way to the juice bar. Brooding thoughts about possible approaches to reconciliation boil in her head. It is not too late yet. She'll just talk to him. Talking helps. It did last time. She knows Ken. He's not stupid by any means and he’s very obviously not a bad guy either. Deep down, he's a good-hearted person, Barbie is sure of that. It just takes a few serious words, honest words. Humans like to beat around the bush, but Barbie won't do that.

She smiles as she heads for the saloon door. Everything will be fine, for sure.
Shortly before the entrance she stops again. There's someone talking.

Barbie shouldn't eavesdrop, it's not proper. Yet she does. She does it anyway.
She hides away, as to not be spotted through the gaps of the saloon door. Her ear is close to the wall, listening in.
That’s when she picks up on it: "Because I still love her!"

That was Ken.
This one sentence is like a massive gut punch. Barbie closes her eyes in exasperation.
Oh no...

He was right. She shouldn't have come. It would be best if she left the beach as soon as possible. Maybe leave Barbieland all together. Barbie is about to turn away when the doors suddenly swing open, almost hitting her.
Ken gets startled by her sight, stumbling backwards. "Barbie…"

"Ken.." Barbie just stares at him, before straightening her shoulders and giving him a serious look. "We need to talk."

Chapter Text

They have a calm little stroll next to the shore, separated from the busy beach section by pink cattails and dune grass.
If Ken had the ability to sweat, there would be bullets he'd be sweating. He glances at Barbie every so often, waiting for her to either scold him or tell him that she "doesn’t want him here" with that happy smile on her face like she did so often when he had to make space for girl's night. But he hasn’t seen that type of smile from her at all since she returned. What he used to think of as his born-to-be girlfriend and his highest goal to achieve, is now walking beside him, her hands behind her back, giving a very pensive gaze to the sandy floor. Ken can merely guess what’s on her mind right now, although he'd rather not.
"So, Ken?" Barbie breaks the silence. "How have you been doing? Do you still like horses?"

He clears his throat. "Oh yeah, I do." He pauses, a little impressed that she remembers his affinity for horses. There’s just something so majestic about them.
"The first time on the back of one of these good girls was…I admit I was a little shaky. But it was an out of body experience."

Barbie’s eyes lighten up with interest. "You took riding lessons?"
Ken gives her a smug smile. "Oh, I don't just ride them, Barbie. I take care of them. Sometimes I work at a stable. It's a nice, peaceful job." He looks at her, and he sees the surprise in her eyes. It seems that Barbie didn't expect him to do such physical work. That's another way he's not like the other Kens, he has no problem getting some dirt on him. That's just how Barbieland works, he's used to it. "Is that weird?" He turns around to look at her face, trying to get a reaction out of her.

"Oh no, Ken, that’s very admirable. I’m glad you found something that makes you happy."

He smiles back at her, overall satisfied with her reaction, but that word…admirable. It sounds a little bit condescending, as if she hadn’t expected him to get that far without her. "It's cool. No big deal. I can’t just do nothing."

"I didn’t mean to talk down to you…I'm just happy for you. That’s it." Barbie clarifies. "It’s more than justifiable to be a little proud of yourself."

Ken just smiles, trying to hide his inner wish to hear this expression of pride from her own mouth. The delusional thought that just maybe, she might be proud of him too….
"Oh yeah, I am. And you know, it's hard not to be proud when you work with these fine fillies and they trust you. But it’s not without risk! Not much less dangerous than shredding waves." He winks playfully and actually gets a little chuckle out of her. Not even a real chuckle, more of an amused little "mmh", but for Ken she might as well have roared with laughter.

Barbie has a good day every day. Ken only has a good day when Barbie is looking at him…Oh dear.

He clears his throat again. "I’m sure you'd enjoy some horse riding too in case you haven’t done it already. According to the library books I legally acquired, horses play an equally as important part in history as humans themselves."

"I've never been on a horse." Barbie remembers. "So far I haven’t seen many people using them as a method of transport. Except for police officers…I don’t even know why, it doesn’t feel save…But neither does driving to be honest. Driving in the real world is…quite different. I prefer trains and uh…handing the wheel to someone else. Gloria is a good driver."

"Uh huh." Ken tries to process every word she tells him and he can’t help but notice a faint movement at the edge of her mouth as she mentions a woman’s name.
"Sorry, who’s Gloria again?"

Barbie's smile gets brighter. "She’s my friend!"

Ken's smile turns a bit awkward for a second and then he laughs. "Oh... Sorry, I just thought maybe you were..."

Barbie tilts her head, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

Ken shakes his head. "No, no, Nevermind..." He suddenly looks a little worried, not having the courage to ask directly so he tries to ease his way out of the situation by changing the subject. "Say Barbie, how did you become friends with Gloria?" He looks at Barbie and the worried smile turns into his usual, confident grin.

"She works at Mattel." Barbie enlightens him. "She was the girl I was looking for, remember? It was because of her that…" she gets a little quiet and thoughtful. ".. I started having these thoughts…"

Ken looks at her, a bit lost for a moment. Then some things start to slowly piece together in his head. "You mean the ones about cellulite?"
Barbie's smile gets a little tired. "No, Ken."

"What 'thoughts' are we talking about?"

"Thoughts about…death.." Barbie reveals. "I was thinking about death."

Ken stands there like a freeze frame.
"You… you were thinking… about death?" He turns away and is quiet for a moment, before he goes back to looking at her. As a participant in Barbie's adventure back then, he was aware that she had to leave Barbieland due to accumulating system errors and find the girl who plays with her. Admittedly, his thoughts at the time were more focused on his desire for Barbie's attention and the bet he had with Ken. He missed out on fully understanding…everything.

"Can… can you please tell me more about that, Barbie? About these thoughts…."

"Well…you know how you get up every morning and go to sleep at night?"

Ken nods. "Yeah… of course."

"Well…" Barbie looks around. "Just imagine some day you go to sleep at night, but don’t wake up the next day. In fact you never wake up again. That’s the destiny every human will face at some point."

Ken just stares at her. A horrible sensation crawls up his legs and his spine, it’s like the world around him lost its colour for just a second, as if he'd gone deaf or been unconscious for a very brief moment. His body shudders involuntarily.

"That's... dark, Barb." is all he can say for a while. "Where.. where are you going with this? What does that have to do with... us?"

"Maybe not with you, Ken..but with me."

“With you?” He looks back at Barbie. “What… what are you saying, Barb?"

Barbie looks at him smiling fondly, but a bit exhausted. "That one day…I might not be there to visit you anymore."

Ken doesn’t say a word for a long time. He looks down at the sand.
Barbie leans in and touches Ken on the shoulder, her reassuring smile calms him down a bit. He tries to convince himself she’s just messing with him. He can’t imagine a world where Barbie doesn’t exist. Maybe one where she’s out of reach, since he’s lived through that, but…no Barbie at all?

"You don’t have to worry about it, Ken. You’re a doll. And I still have many years ahead of me." Barbie tries to help him process the horrors beyond his comprehension with a little optimism.

Ken nods, trying to be a strong boy. "I just…This world wouldn’t be the same…"

"You've been surviving the last couple months without me. You'll be fine."

He bites his lip, turning away. "No, you're right. You're absolutely right.."
Ken recalls how he was behaving earlier. The realisation that his happiness is still so dependent on her upset him so much that he snapped at her. And now he’s being a whiny prick again. He needs to pull himself together.

Ken's acting cool, but the truth is that he has never missed anyone like he has missed Barbie ever since she left and he didn’t even notice until she returned. Barbie smiles with endearment. "How do you get along with the other Kens? Are you and Ken still having little quarrels?"

"Well it's... complicated. That show-off is still acting like the boss, but I don't see Ken as competition anymore. I mean, obviously he's not... uh, you know - He's not someone I have to measure myself against."
Barbie can’t quite make something of Ken’s answer and just runs with the assumption that their relationship hasn’t changed much. Not everyone gets along with everyone. That’s something Barbie had to learn the hard way…

"And... what about this Gloria? You know, you guys are…friends?" Ken's seemingly innocent question cuts between her thoughts.

"Yes!" Barbie beams as he reminds her of Gloria. But within seconds her smile faints a little. "Can I be honest with you, Ken?"

He raises his eyebrows and immediately pricks up his ears. She's never asked him a question like that before. "Uh, of course..." He braces himself for whatever comes his way, for the possibility that she might drop a bomb on him soon.

Barbie calms her breathing. "Gloria, her daughter Sascha and her husband…they treat me like family. They help me with all kinds of stuff like…they drive me to places, they…support me in every way they can..But…I.. I’m doubting my place in that family. I’m not…someone’s daughter or mother or…cousin.."

She lowers her gaze as the realisation sinks in again. When becoming a human, she chose Barbara Handler as her legal name, since that's who she was named after: Ruth Handler's daughter. But can she really call herself anyone’s child?
Barbie loves Gloria. She’s such a strong, determined woman and empathetic mother. But she’s Sascha's mother, not Barbie's.

Ken watches her with a concerned face. "Yeah…that might surprise you, but…I kinda, somewhat, completely understand you. You’ve been in the real world for so long to find out who you are and maybe you’ve lost yourself a little bit in the process. But don’t forget why you left being a doll behind in the first place: To be human. That means…humans do that all the time. Being confused, I mean. You just haven't found the real Barbie yet." He gives her an encouraging smile. It’s a little different this time. Not seeming to try to charm her, but actually intending to provide comfort.

Barbie‘s eyes widen with surprise. "Woah Ken, that was quite profound."

He laughs. "I guess I'm no longer just a blonde dude who can’t do a backflip. Sure, that thing is still a work in progress…but I have complex inner mechanisms. You wouldn’t recognise me if you knew what my brain keeps cooking up in recent time.." He speaks proudly of himself, making sure that Barbie takes notice of his tone. He clears his throat, averting his eyes a little. "Of course..I've learned to think critically about…critical stuff."

"Like the patriarchy?"

Ken clears his throat again. "Yeah."

Barbie nods slowly and Ken just mimics her gestures to give the impression of being cooperative. He has one thing left and that’s her tolerance. Despite leaving on a good note, too much has happened between them to make any meaningful relationship possible. He could be honest with her, expose the fact that he’s been painting a picture that doesn’t reflect reality. He could drop to his knees and be a crybaby about it once again, but he won’t. He bites his tongue.

He’s Ken and he'll get over the fact that he’s lost her forever.
He looks down.
"When are you leaving again?"

Barbie snickers and shakes her head. "Ken, what are you talking about? I just arrived!" She spreads her arms to emphasize her presence and her bell-like laugh rings out with relieving amusement to the point where Ken almost joins in.
Their little walk is cut short as they reach the end of the beach area and in this moment he realises he'd do anything to make it last.

"We can go to my place." Barbie suddenly chimes in, almost knocking him over with her sudden boldness. "Just to catch up. Unless you’re still mad about me coming back…" That wasn't an accusation, her attitude and reproachful smile make it obvious that she's being a little cheeky. She’s matured so much compared to Ken, he can barely keep up.
Daring vocal maneuvers are required to hide the rollercoaster of overwhelming emotions inside him. "No, it’s all cool."

Barbie's dream house still looks the same as she left it, though the horse decour is missing and the building is surely a bit emptier these days.

"It’s…exactly how I remember it." Barbie murmurs, her fingers softly touching the walls. She turns to Ken. "I don’t remember cleaning up before leaving."

"You didn’t, but I did."

"You…" Barbie blinks repeatedly. "What?"

"Yeah." Ken shrugs in an attempt to seem casual. "I thought..it would be the right thing to do." He holds up his hands defensively. "I didn’t touch anything too personal and I didn’t break anything! You should know…cleaning is actually a lot more therapeutic than one would think…"

Barbie continues slowly strolling through her house while Ken continues his monologue. The plastic feeling of the interior..the smell..Barbie feels a rise of suppressed nostalgia inside of her. "What did you call it again? Mojo…something?"

"Mojo Dojo Casa House!” Ken reminds her, a little too fondly. "I mean..you've got to admit it had a ring to it-"
"The name’s fine, but not for my house." Barbie immediately interrupts him and by her intonation he can immediately tell that she’s having a moment. A moment that requires him to keep quiet.

Ken believes to have realised that she still resents him and the other Kens for taking power. Despite all their friendly aspirations, this experience had driven a deep wedge between them that needs to be overcome. Ken could have easily lived with this grudge of hers, or so he thinks. After all, he was convinced that he could get along without Barbie and that, in the absence of her attention, he would have enough space and time to work on himself and eventually lead his own life. Now she's here and that makes everything so incredibly difficult.
Ken doesn't want to think about what he did in the past because it makes him feel bad. It’s a weird, uncomfortable feeling. A feeling his body wasn't made for. If he stops suppressing it and allows it to fill him from the inside, it will make him burst like a broken dam.

The sun slowly sets as its daytime travel over Barbieland ends, meanwhile Barbie and Ken have taken a seat at the edge of her dream house bedroom, their legs dangling of the balcony edge. Barbie has poured some red liquid that Ken has never seen before into the tiny doll-cups. She hands him a cup.

"What's this? Some kind of juice?" He takes a good look at it before sniffing it a little suspiciously.
"Humans drink this all the time. At least some of them. It makes people act funny and go a little red in the face." Barbie explains. She holds up her cup. "Cheers."

Ken watches the gesture uncertainly, especially as the cup lingers in the air and he gets the feeling that she's expecting a reaction.
“People clink their glasses together before they drink,” Barbie explains further.
Ken hesitantly raises his cup and shyly nudges her cup with it.

"Cheers." Barbie smiles reassuringly.
"Cheers." Ken sighs with relief. He feels as if he just overcame a massive social obstacle. At the same time he feels slightly more educated. Fascinated Ken watches the movements that the act of lifting the cup and drinking the liquid requires.
Her elbow lifts, her lips come over the edge of the cup and you can actually see her swallowing the stuff. She puts the cup down and discreetly licks her lips after. She’s a natural.

Ken copies what he witnessed her doing, almost right down to the last detail. The stuff tastes bitter at first, but then leaves a sweetened dry taste in his mouth.
"Oh, this is…sublime!" He takes another, bigger sip.

"Not so fast, Ken!" she chuckles, reaching out to him.

Ken continues drinking eagerly, gasping loudly as he finishes and he gasps for air and shakes himself like a wet dog. "Whoa." he blinks repeatedly as if he just woke up from an intense dream. "This is good, Barbie!"

Barbie chuckles, shaking her head.

"Oh Barb, you don’t understand…" Ken feels as if all the imaginary bands of insecurity that had been tied around his chest are now being ripped apart all at once. He is overcome by the sudden urge to start talking and never stop. And it gets stronger with every sip. "I think I learned something new about myself. So many new things. It’s like looking into a mirror for the first time and actually realising that it’s me. The blonde dude in there…is me." He looks out into the distance, a little enraptured. "I've always been scared of... not being good enough, not being…Ken enough. But I've come to realise that I'm not just a Ken. I am Ken. I’m THE Ken. I still feel like a Ken, I have no issue being referred to as Ken, but at the same time..I’m my own idea of being Ken? You get that?" Ken looks at Barbie as if expecting a reaction. Barbie looks at him with a little astonishment, but also with a lot of interest. "Did you ever feel like that when you were a Barbie..?"

Barbie beams "Yes! I uh…" She clears her throat and straightens her posture. "Yes. You know, after..everything happened. Even after we reinstalled the constitution.. I felt like there’s a piece of me missing. As if an important part had been bitten out of me a long time ago and that’s when I first realised it. I started as an idea, became something I wasn’t intending, and then…I no longer knew who I was."

He takes a sip from his tiny wine cup, as his eyes are locked on Barbie, as if he’s watching her every expression, every movement and every word in great detail. He nods enthusiastically. "That-that's exactly it, Barbs! Sometimes I think that I'm missing something too. I guess it’s more like… an emptiness. I don’t really know how to explain it." He takes another sip from the tiny cup and then looks up for a moment. "You've ever seen a horse eat a carrot?"

"No, I don’t think-"

Ken leans forward, a very philosophical expression on his face: "They eat the stuff...really quickly. Orange vegetables..formed like a cylinder..streamlined. Disappears bit by bit into the big mouth with…big teeth. Do you know that horses have to go to the dentist?"

"..who picks out the few tiny orange bits of carrot from between their teeth. That’s all that’s left of it. All that’s left of that poor carrot." Barbie's gaze is directed in an indefinite direction.

Ken slowly shakes his head in disbelief. "Didn’t do nothing and still got chomped on and eaten and swallowed…digested. It’s the way of life."

"Ken?"

"Huh?"

Barbie lowers her gaze to the half-empty glass, which she holds in her hands on her lap. Her legs swing side by side. "Do you think...that we are the carrot?"

Ken puffs out his cheeks, overwhelmed, before letting out an indecisive breath. He raises his shoulders. Then he nods resignedly, as if confronting the topic was very difficult for him, but in the end he has to admit it to himself:
"I'm afraid...we're the carrot, Barb."

We are the carrot." Barbie repeats quietly.

"Hm." Ken sits up, his fingers drumming nervously on his knees. "Barbie?"

"Yes?" She looks at him.

"I don't like being a carrot." Ken says and looks at her. His eyebrows furrow and he slowly shakes his head to emphasize his displeasure.

"Maybe you aren't one after all." Barbie tries to appease him. "You are a doll. Dolls are not eaten piece by piece."

“But humans are?"

Barbie sighs. "Sometimes. Often. I don't know. If they let it happen. Every now and then...most of the time...it happens on its own."

Ken doesn't understand what's wrong with him. Suddenly the thought of the carrot disappearing inside a horse's mouth saddens him so much that it brings tears to his eyes. "Oh man, it's not about death, am I right?"

"No, Ken." Barbie pats his back carefully. "It's...something completely different."
Ken wipes his face with his hand. "I feel...dizzy and shaky and...teary."

"That's just the alcohol, Ken."

Ken nods, then squeezes his eyes shut, as if trying to silence the inner turmoil by pressing the pause button. His head somehow ends up on Barbie’s shoulder with her arm around him. Maybe if they’re a carrot together, they won’t be eaten as fast.