épineuse

though she hasn’t done it (intentionally) in nearly a year, stella could walk the few blocks from her home to mari’s in her sleep. she’s definitely not asleep now, thoughts tumbling over and over each other like balls in a bingo cage; she spends the entire trip turning them over and shoving them back in the cage, hoping for reassurance but finding none. she’s fucked, the whole thing is fucked unless they can figure out who’s after them and how to shut them up before anything actually incriminating gets out. that’s why she’s here, climbing the loudly protesting stairs to the third floor and knocking on mari’s door before she has time to second-guess herself. she needs all the help she can get, and loathe as she may be to admit it, stella’s known from the start that mari complements her — they’re both smart on their own, but together they’re sherlock and watson, batman and robin, mulder and scully. it’s just the smart choice, coming here. just practical. when the door opens and she sees mari looking up at her, stella forgets what she had planned to say. “i miss you.” the words are on the tip of her tongue, but she catches them just in time, shoving them down deep under the rest of her roiling thoughts. after a moment of awkward silence, fingers twitching intermittently at her sides, she tries again.

part of her didn't want to question it. perhaps if she pretended that none of it had happened, if she let her in and gave her a glass of wine and put her favourite music on, the gap between them would shrink and the past year would fade away. they could be friends again, with no apologies necessary — only a silent acknowledgment that they had both been wrong, and too stubborn for their own good. yet the lack of trust between them was so prominent it felt like a physical thing, a third person standing with them who mari wanted to reach out and throttle. she looks from stella to the packet in her hand, considering, before stepping backwards to allow her inside.

"uh... sure, come on in." she shuts the door behind her and leads her through to the living room, flopping into a chair. there was still a familiarity between them, however faint, that meant that she didn't have to put on any pretence in front of her. "i wasn't exactly expecting this," she says, tone slightly blunt. "but i'm guessing you're here for a reason, not just for a social call. so... what's up?"

“  random  works,  ”  genevieve  confirms.  her  expression  shifts  into  a  frown  as  they  move  on  to  the  next  part  of  their  scheme.  “  but  how  exactly  are  we  going  to  get  everyone  to  go  along  with  it.  and  more  importantly  how  are  we  going  to  make  sure  they  don’t  completely  screw  it  up  ?  ”

"i think we both know that between the two of us, you're the one with the most power to get people to fall in line." it was both a judgement and a compliment — gen had undeniable influence that could be used for both good and evil, and mari had to admit that it was a useful tool to have onside. "i think everyone needs to understand how serious this situation is. i know they're more concerned now that marcel's died, but some of them seem to think we're untouchable, or that no one will look at us. we need to prepare for the worst."

it's not fitz's first funeral, but it's the first one that he cares exactly a medium amount about. he never would have wished this upon marcel, but it's no secret that marcel and fitz weren't exactly the closest pair (and in fact, marcel threatened to strangle him a few times) - so fitz feels a passive sadness, the way you do when your local mailman dies. it just so happens that at the funeral procession itself, once fitz has been rearranged and shuffled in the haphazard crowd, he ends up standing next to none other than mari for the actual speeches. "of course you're here," fitz whispers to mari with a roll of the eyes, quiet enough to not be noticed as the eulogies begin. "what, do you need marcel to proofread something from beyond the grave? what are you working on, 'the secret life of a french snitch: an autobiography'?"

he looks up from the next scoop of ice cream at mari's follow-up. "right, well, i'm still working on it," he says. what he doesn't say is how much he's been working on it, sleepless nights under his eyes and keyboard-inflicted bruises on his fingers. he's never been comfortable with problems he can't solve. "but it's not supposed to take this long, so that's an unpleasant sign. we might have to resort to educated guesses from a gillian flynn blueprint." he offers another round of b&j's to mari with a raised eyebrow. "you don't have any writerly hunches about what this might be about?"

she draws her knees up to her chest and rests her head on the back of the bench, eyes turned upwards as she licks the spoon in thought. "it has to be someone who knows about the existence of praeditus," she continues, voice low, "but the only people we know for sure are aware of the group are former leaders and members, or i guess their children if they were trying to continue some family legacy." her head lolls towards chan, and mari considers him for a moment. "the overlap between those people and the people who can build a firewall this complex can't be that big, right? or do you think it's more likely that they hired outside help to do it?"

there weren't many things that would convince emilia to come to this man's funeral, but after hearing even just a few names of those who would be in attendance, she knew she'd have to be present. she'd spent the morning practicing what she'd say to them, how to best represent herself and her studies. the elevator pitch on her research was thorough, concise, and well-rehearsed. she'd be tasteful, of course. this wasn't exactly the time to be handing out business cards and whatnot, but you can never be too prepared when running in these social circles. she felt confident, sure of herself - and then she arrived, and all of that confidence fell away.

now, here she is, meandering alone through the dark pool of mourners, the misty rain lightly dotting her hair and eyelashes. meandering alone, that is, until she comes across the back of a head that is quite familiar. "mari," she calls softly to the other girl, not quite loud enough to cause a disturbance but clear enough to alert her coworker of her presence. she hurries over, relieved to find someone she knew. "hey," emilia greets her friend, looping an arm through mari's elbow. "i'm glad i found you - this is giving me the heebie jeebies, and we haven't even heard the speeches yet." as if her nerves were once again taking root, emilia rocks back on her heels, shifting her weight. "how are you feeling about... all this?"

she's scanning the faces around her with interest, looking for suspects, when the sound of her name being called makes her turn her head, a little startled. but she's immediately grateful when she spots who was trying to get her attention. "oh thank god," she says quietly, relief painting her features as she presses close to emilia's side. "i feel better now that you're here, this is so weird. can we sit together when we get inside? i don't know who else even came and i really don't want to be on my own." her eyes flicker around again, wondering if any other praeditus members are nearby but failing to locate them if they are. "how are you doing? other than the heebie jeebies, i mean."

“  we  need  a  𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.  one  that  works  for  everyone,  that  no  one  is  going  to  mess  up.  the  last  thing  we  need  is  for  anyone  to  find  out  that  we  were  the  last  ones  to  see  dupont  alive  and  catch  us  in  a  𝐥𝐢𝐞.  ”  she  bites  her  lip  while  she  thinks,  a  sign  that  she  was  less  steeled  than  usual  or  that  she  was  taking  pains  to  appear  natural.  “  i  think  the  gathering  at  tallie’s  could  work,  but  it  needs  the  right  amount  of  details.  what  kind  of  music  was  playing,  what  were  people  drinking,  but  nothing  too  concrete.  it  should  be  𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐲,  incomplete,  an  inconsequential  night  we  could  hardly  be  asked  to  remember  weeks  later.  ”  a  pause,  “  and  of  course  we  need  a  reason  why  all  of  us  would  be  spending  our  night  together  that  doesn’t  find  it’s  roots  in  marcel  dupont.

"i think you're right. believably vague, not so watertight it looks planned." abandoning her casual posture, she shifts so she's sitting cross-legged, back straight and alert. "what worries me is if they try to verify it. if they talk to one of tallie's neighbours and they didn't overhear anything? it looks bad. i doubt the police would believe that twelve students were playing music at a respectful volume and speaking in hushed tones all night." mari took another thoughtful sip of coffee. if this were something she were writing, how would she plot this? how could twelve seemingly disconnected people come together at just the right time, in a way that didn't seem suspicious? "i think we need to make it seem as random as possible," she says finally. "tallie wanted a small get together to celebrate the start of term. she invites the people she's closest to, so that's... you, fitz, aileen, maybe stella? only her invitees also invite their own guests, because tallie is basically friends with everyone at meraviglia, and she won't really care about the party growing. so aileen invites dom, obviously, but she also invites me. dom brings emilia. you invite gemma and richard. fitz brings his sibling and chan. it was all word of mouth, nothing via text, and we can use the fact a lot of us aren't close to sell how unplanned it was."

they didn’t end on BAD terms, yet there’s still that slow & sticky awkwardness you feel around somebody who has seen you intimately, has known you in ways others haven’t and someone who you once desired a future with. and because of this, gemma will usually avoid mari in the corridors of meraviglia, keep her head down & eyes low as if she hadn’t clocked the other coming from a mile away. and gemma couldn’t possibly still have feelings, but her soul is plagued with softness and her birthday cursed with the tendencies of a virgo - ruminative, pedantic and & faithful. 

was it the healthiest mindset to have? of course not. she knew that. perhaps it was why she always felt so guilty around her, the undercurrent of their every interaction that mari always tried to ignore. she was still grateful for gemma's presence in her life, however, and still appreciated the friendly face at praeditus meetings whom she could sit in a corner and ignore the chaos with when the others became too much. "gem," she greeted, her tone warm and her smile fond. "yeah, i'm good. i mean, i'm coping." another reason they would have never worked out — her complete lack of ability to be honest about how she was feeling, especially around gemma, who had always seemed particularly sensitive to negativity. "how have you been holding up? i know the past few weeks must have been hard on you, and now... all this."

the manager was off doing something 'important' in the back office and likely wouldn't resurface for a few hours, so mari pulled out a chair and indicated for tallie to sit behind the counter with her. "i'm fine. just, you know... dealing with it." it's a lie, and a shitty one, but with a few days to settle down after the unpleasant surprise that had befallen them, she was now more than a little embarrassed about her angry outburst and didn't particularly want to linger on it. "it's quiet in here today, so i'm getting some work done." she waved the sheaf of papers in her hand. "how about you, though? how have you been?"

tallie shrugs then, "well, sometimes it's just so hard to actually pay attention, you know what i mean?" and maybe she doesn't. tallie is sure mari's grades are eons ahead of her own, "sometimes acting like you're paying attention is a good skill to have in your toolkit." then she flashes a grin, "i would never do that to you, though. you're much more engrossing than a ninety-year-old white man trying to explain a graph to me."

she didn't really know what tallie meant by saying it was hard to pay attention sometimes, but then she was too inquisitive by nature, too eager to sit attentively and hang on to every word someone said in the hope of learning something. she nodded along anyway, wanting to please tallie, before grinning at the half-compliment. "that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." she placed a hand theatrically across her chest, eyes turned heavenward. "speaking of which, though, i think i need to go and see my own ninety year old white man trying to explain prose composition." a glance at her phone confirmed her suspicion, and she downed the rest of her coffee. "i'll text you about all the lessons you're going to give me," she said, knowing full well that she wouldn't, and with a final smile, hurried out into the street.

“  nothing  is  scarier  than  us  being  in  agreement,  it’s  twisted,  ”  it  sounds  bitter  on  her  lips  but  her  sly  smile  shows  that  it's  meant  as  more  of  a  shared  joke  than  anything,  their  camaraderie  unusual  (  even  unsettling  ).  even  before  their  group  dynamics  started  to  unravel,  mari  and  gen  always  seemed  to  end  up  on  the  opposite  side  of  things,  dinner  discussions  and  friendships.  “  you  made  a  good  point  about  alibis  last  night,  i  think  we  should  start  there.  before  we  do  you  do  have  your  own  right  ?  i’m  not  helping  you  cover  up  the  fact  that  you’re  a  psycho  killer  or  anything  ?  ”

"i don't have a good one, to be frank." she stretched out her legs, propping them on her coffee table with ankles crossed. "after leaving the meeting, i bought a bottle of wine on my walk home and spent the rest of the night here writing. the cashier could say he saw me, maybe my neighbours heard music playing, but nothing solid. i guess it's up to you to decide whether or not you believe me." taking a sip of her coffee, she kept her eyes locked on gen's, trying to simultaneously convey calm, rational honesty while searching the other for any flicker of deceit. "what about you? do you have an alibi?"

aileen snorted at the other woman, not bothering to stifle her own laughter at mari's reaction. then, her eyes widened slightly at her words, more specifically the playful suggestion to ask genevieve out. she almost choked on her wine at that notion. "so not interested. she strikes me as a pillow princess. there can't be two selfish lovers in a relationship. there needs to be a balance or else we'd end up killing each other," she half-joked, as if she and genevieve weren't always one moment away from maiming each other anyway. "that's why dominic and i work so well. i want something and gives it to me, no questions asked. he's basically every woman's dream. mark my words: i'm going to marry that man one day." that could have been the wine talking, or simply her own comfort with talking to mari about anything that came to mind, no filter needed. mari was her safe space. "we're okay. he knows what he has. he wouldn't fuck it up for one night with her." even if she had her own indiscretions with tallie to hide.

"really? i know she'd be selfish, but pillow princess? kind of think she'd be the opposite, so in control that she won't even let the other person move without permission in case they mess it up for her." the smile prompted by her amusement over the speculation of genevieve's sex life tightened only slightly at the corners as aileen turned the conversation to the prowess of her real partner. in some ways, she thought that dom was the perfect match for her friend. his calm, solid presence seemed to balance out her more turbulent one, in a similar manner to that which mari had witnessed between her own parents. and yet she knew that the old myth of opposites attract was just that — a myth, with her parents being the exception that proved the rule. mari would never say as much to aileen. not only because the inner workings of a relationship were only truly known to the people directly involved, but because she wanted them to work, wanted them to make each other happy. "well, good, i'm happy for you both. as long as the colour scheme of your wedding isn't peach. it makes me look ill."

inside chan, there are two wolves. at least one of them is copious amounts of cocaine, but the other one currently seems to be half a pint of ben and jerry’s half-baked, which is the only food that’s entered his body in the last twenty-four hours. chan is truly something of a medical anomaly, a man who will go without eating a normal meal one day and then buy one of everything from san carlo piemonte the next – sleep is somewhat of the same, a constant fluctuation between none at all and far too much. don’t do drugs, kids! 

as he eats the aforementioned pint of ben and jerry’s half-baked, he walks in circles on meraviglia’s grounds. when he’s stuck at a particularly aggravating part of a code, getting nothing but ERRORERRORERROR until he feels like one himself, pacing tends to help. he’s on his second circle when he’s about to pass one of meraviglia’s many park benches, only to realize there’s a familiar face sitting in it this time around. “hey,” he says to mari. “odd week.” he’s not used to being alone with her, and in truth, their dynamic usually relies mostly on who else is in the room with them. here, just the two of them, his first instinct is to ask: “can i offer you half of a half-baked?”

where ice cream was involved, though, she was more than happy to endure a little discomfort. "sure," she replied with a shrug, moving her bag so he could sit next to her and accepting the spoon he presented, not particularly concerned with the idea of sharing germs — chan seemed clean enough. after a mouthful and a satisfied sigh, she handed the spoon back, letting him take his turn. "thanks. i swear ben and jerry put crack in their ice cream, it's so good." a characteristic silence fell between them, during which she wished she'd had another spoonful so that she didn't have to be the one making conversation. "i forgot to thank you, last night," she said finally. she actually couldn't remember if anyone had thanked him. "i know we didn't figure out who was messaging us, but thank you for trying. you did a good job."