“Yeah well,” Karma showed her empty hands, “we were just looking around. And now we’re leaving. Empty-handed, alright?” There was the undertone of a growl to her words - she couldn’t help it - but she tugged Noemi toward the stairs and the exit.
The vampire followed silently, never taking her eyes off Lorna for more than a second. A year. She’d been trying to find the woman she loved for a year, and this chance encounter was the only luck she’d had. She wasn’t going to just walk away without trying… something.
As if reading her thoughts, Karma tightened her grip on Noemi’s arm. Her ex knew her too well.
“You gonna let us go or what?” the volph demanded, staring the Reg in the eye.
"I need confirmation from all of you," Lorna said. Simple. Unbothered. "Unless you were watching each other the entire time?"
Lane's jaw tightened. It didn't show—no, she'd never let it *show*. In her line of work, there was a time and place for being smart with a cop and one for being sharp, and, when cornered with two vulnerable aliens, it was time to just be silent and get out.
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Noemi didn’t hear Lane or feel the hand on her shoulder. Her arm fell to her side, letting a single drop of blood spatter on the dry pool bottom. She was frozen in place, eyes locked on the woman by the door.
It had been a year since she’d seen Lorna’s face. Eyes wide with shock as she was pulled away, her hand ripped out of Noemi’s. This wasn’t that face. This was the fake, uncaring smile of the Regulator she’d met the night her sister had attacked Charlie. The indifferent voice of the woman who’d tried to kill Isfet, who’d told her ‘We’re done’ in a tone that clearly said ’You mean nothing to me.’
Karma hopped down beside the vampire, taking her arm. Her volph ears twitched in irritation because she couldn’t change them back.
“Let’s get out of here, hon,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing we can do for her now.”
Noemi didn’t respond.
Lane looked up from the cut to Karma and her twitching ears. Calm as everyone seemed right now, it would only take a moment for the situation to turn and all of them, Regulator included (and no doubt why she’d disabled their powers the moment she’d arrived), knew it.
She nudged Noemi forward from the other side, towards the stairs and away from Lorna.
“Just a second.”
Lane closed her eyes and breathed in. Shit.
“Yes?”
“No property is allowed to be removed at this time.” The Regulator’s dandelion puff of hair bounced as she nodded towards the tools in Lane’s hand. “Any aspects of the tree included.”
“This isn’t what I agreed to,” Noemi grumbled, not too seriously, as she descended the cracked steps into the shallow end. She approached one of the holes, kneeling down and peering into it. This side of the pool was mostly dry, but she could see the glint of water down there, probably within reach.
Swearing silently to herself, she rolled up the sleeve of her sweater and stuck her arm down into the hole. There was something. Smooth, cold, sharp.
“Ah!” It came out as a loud whisper. She yanked her arm out to examine her bleeding hand.
“Shit.” Karma swiftly made her way over to Noemi’s side of the pool. “What happened?”
“Just a cut.” Noemi watched the wound close. “Something’s down there though, maybe another seed-” She stopped and glanced up when Karma’s head whipped back around to face the door.
“Someone’s-”
The volph didn’t get the chance to finish.
“Are you three lost?”
A voice, clear and... not cold, that would be better than the impersonal tone it took echoed through the empty pool room. Lane swiveled towards it and froze, unable to keep herself from glancing towards Noemi.
Lane had never met Logan’s twin. It figured she’d pick right now. Blue eyes shifted from the Regulator to vampire, and the taller woman began to close the gap between them, slowly.
“The pool area is closed.” Lorna smiled without it reaching her eyes.
“We were just leaving.” Lane rested a hand on Noemi’s shoulder and glanced down, trying to catch her attention. Instead, her eyes froze on the small, but still-bleeding cut on Noemi’s hand. She squeezed her shoulder.
Karma returned the wink. “I told you babe, I got you.”
She trained her senses on the door, gold eyes illuminating and ears morphing into their volph shape.
“All clear for now,” she murmured after a few seconds.
“Okay. Thanks Karm,” Noemi answered, somewhat comforted by the extra set of eyes and ears keeping watch, but still not quite comfortable lingering longer than necessary.
“Find anything?” she asked Lane.
“Not yet. Now that the distractions are over, perhaps? You take the shallow side.”
She’d been hesitant to ask Karma - inviting more to the party was likely asking to be caught. But now that her fun had been had, they could settle into it. In, out.
Karma snorted. “I know for a fact she already has one, and I can’t imagine you don’t.”
She squatted down near the edge of the pool. “So what are you planning to do with whatever you find?”
Noemi glanced at the door, hoping no one was noticing all the talking coming from the closed pool room. Getting kicked out by the staff didn’t particularly scare her, but if the regs were still watching the place…
Her thoughts about them had gotten complicated again, and she didn’t want to deal with that right now.
Lane had looked to the side with a wicked smile and winked at Karma. Criminal records were less of the problem when one knew how to hide their tracks, and she'd learned a lot about doing so where Regulators were concerned since...
Noemi had gone awfully quiet. Lane recognized this for the redirection it was, and let it happen.
“Mm, it depends on what we find, doesn’t it? So! Who’s our look-out?”
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Karma folded her arms and stared down at Lane. Judgingly.
“How about I help by making sure nobody else sneaks up on you.” Her eyes flicked to Noemi. “And you tell me what we’re doing.”
Noemi glanced at Lane, then back to her ex. “She wanted to see if there was anything left of the ice crystal tree thing. You know she would have come on her own if I hadn’t come with.”
Blue eyes flicked up from under round lenses and crinkled as Lane smiled up at Karma. Dryly.
“It’s true. I only invited Noemi so we could both have criminal records afterwards. Ah.” Lane pulled her hand up from the hole and swished whatever it was she’d found around in the (gross) water. A shard of reflective, broken tile sparkled back at her.
“Jesus fuck, Karma!” Noemi exclaimed quietly. The vaporvolph’s grinning face appeared over the edge of the pool.
“Love you babe, but you suck at being sneaky.” She looked down at Lane. “What near-death experience are you two after this time?”
Karma only received a sardonic smile before Lane turned back to the hole.
“I’d hardly compare volph-sneaky to teenage staffers at a gym-sneaky.” Lane rolled her sleeve up and stuck her hand further down the watery pit. “Tell me you’re here to help and not watch, judgingly.”
Noemi tucked herself into a corner and kept an eye on the doors as Lane descended into the pool. “It shattered after it dropped the seed shards. After that, I don’t know. Maybe it melted with the rest of the ice.”
The hole Lane reached into was dark, the murky water making it impossible to see more than a few inches down. As far down as she could reach, all there was to feel were cracked cement sides and empty water.
“What are you two doing in here?” a voice barked out, making Noemi jump.
“Mm...” Lane flicked fingers through the water. How much of it was pool water? How much was tree?
... Hard to say. She was about to root through her pockets—she’d brought small containers, meant for any seeds they might find, but.
At the sound of a voice, Lane froze where she was, squatted over a hole. Familiar...
Ah.
“Did you follow us the whole way here?” she asked, amusement in her tone. “Hmm, Karma?”
Noemi still wasn’t convinced, but she decided to drop the argument. There was no way to know either way.
She rolled her eyes at Lane’s smug smile, but with a hint of a grin on her face. As harrowing as it usually was, she’d missed the two of them doing this. Snooping around and getting into trouble.
The pool looked completely different in the light of day, despite having barely been touched since the other night. The tiles at the bottom, seen through the shallow, cloudy water that remained, were ripped up and destroyed, leaving several large holes in the floor. Nothing remained of the crystal tree that had caused all of this.
Lane wasted no time. The doors may have been frosted for privacy, but there was no telling how long they’d have before someone heard their steps in the empty pool room.
At one end, steps had once led to the shallow end. The redhead headed down them, quiet as her waterproof boots would allow, and made for the nearest hollow in the tile.
“What did you say happened to the tree again?” she asked in a low voice, and stuck her hand down the hole.
“They’re just babies though,” Noemi countered. “Would they even know?”
She didn’t expect an answer or wait for one, finally pulling the door open and stepping inside.
It didn’t quite look like nothing had happened. There were obvious signs of water damage where doorways had been blocked by ice. But otherwise it seemed like business as usual. With one exception: the pool.
The doors were wrapped with caution tape, their small, broken windows blocked with cardboard. A sign on a tripod in front announced: ‘Closed for Renovation. Sorry for the inconvenience!’
A quick check determined that the door was locked. “This’ll make things easier. If we can get in without being noticed.”
Lane gave the doorknob a quick look, then shook her head and crooked a finger at Noemi. "There’s a better entrance,” she murmured, before leading the way down the hall.
“Not all species’ ‘babies’ have the same maturity,” Lane pointed out as they walked. “The Tra—”
What do you want?
Lane cleared her throat and nudged open the heavy door to the showers. They’d be given fewer glances there than the lobby.
“They are babies. Seedlings, too, and designed to be left without a guardian, which makes them even more vulnerable. They would need safeguards.” Ahead, the secondary entrance was blocked less securely: with caution tape and cones lining the zig-zagging alcove to the pool. “I’ve heard of similar species.”
She shot the vampire a smile with only a hint of smugness and gestured to the caution tape. “Ladies first.”
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“He was unconscious when we left him,” Noemi explained. “But they must have pieced together what happened. I’m sure they’ve got at least some of the seeds. I’d just rather they didn’t track down the ones we took.”
A thought occurred to her, and she stopped just outside the door. “Do you think they could use the ones we left behind to track down the ones we have? They’re all connected…”
“I think it’d be best not to make assumptions one way or the other.” Lane remained still, waiting. “That said. From your retelling, I think their species knows what is in their best interest, and would avoid revealing their..."
... What word to use? The Traveler hadn’t been so different from them, but collective felt too impersonal, however affectionately the alien had meant it.
“... family’s whereabouts if it would put them in danger.”
“It’s so weird being back here,” Noemi said to Lane. “It’s too normal.”
The FMCA had reopened only a week after the strange blizzard had awakened an ancient ice crystal entity beneath its pool. Noemi had several of its seeds stored in her freezer. Probably not the best place for them, but what was she supposed to do?
She stared at the front doors, suddenly reluctant to go back inside.
“There’s no way the Regs haven’t gotten to it already.”
(Lane was of the opinion that if there was a good place for psychic-ice-tree-seedlings, the freezer was about it. She had looked at the seeds, then to Noemi, before giving her conspirator a steely look and offering to help her break in.)
(They did not have to break in. The door was open. She had a membership, complete with a plus one. It was entirely valid for them to be there.)
“Perhaps they have. You mentioned there was at least one frozen here, correct?” The red head stepped forward and pushed open the doors. She stood, still, waiting for Noemi to enter. “But they aren’t perfect, and better we find what they missed than anyone else, hm?”
She wonders, as she lays there, eyes closed, if she actually needs to, now that she can't die. How long can she go without before her brain forces her to shut down or it does, and she's right as rain again? That would be a fun experiment. See how long humans can actually go without sleep, without risking any real humans' lives.
Does she count?
Probably. Through a technicality of some kind or other.
Lane lies there and ponders this and every other mystery of the universe to keep herself awake and thinking, because she is waiting and it won't be long now.
Blue light flickers at the edge of her vision. She still has her glasses on, and sits up to stare herself dead in the eyes.
Yeah. That's her, alright, she confirms to herself. (In case there had been doubt.)
Lane stands at the foot of her own bed, same as she has every night since the storm started. She was faint, at first, and blurry around the edges, enough that she, the Lane in bed, thought she was having a dream. Anniversaries can do that.
The EMF reader is in bed beside her, and Lane's already tested it, outside in her yard and in every corner of the house. There's no doubt about it: there's something in the air, something in the storm causing this, because none of her instruments work and besides, she learned a long time ago not to brush it off when people say they are seeing things move in the dark.
Knowing what will happen, she tests it anyway. The meter flicks rapidly between green and red and highlighting the whole spectrum between as it beeps. She leaves it, tuning out the sound, and looks over her doppelganger.
The double's glasses are askew, as if she's just been shoved in the face and hasn't bothered to fix them (common, for Lane). Her nose and cheeks are flushed, like she's just come in from running around in the snow. But that's not what the Lane in bed is focused on. The double is bundled up. Jacket, gloves, boots, and she bites back the emotions that swell up as she remembers sobbing into those ectoplasm-stained sleeves on the bathroom floor of a house she never bought.
"Hello." Lane's voice is uncharacteristically soft. She doesn't move, afraid she'll startle her old housemate. "Who are you?" ... On the off chance it's not them. She won't invite in something else.
The double at the end of her bed doesn't respond. It flickers.
"Why are you here?"
There is no response.
"Where are you?"
Nothing.
"How old are you? Are you French?"
She's just being smart, now. Lane tightens her fingers around the EMF (which is still going off, in the same inconsistent scream it's been making).
"What do you want?"
Lane never startles. Jokester officemates and old classmates who didn't know better would try and make a game of this. Test her limits, see what got the statue to snap. They never did, in part because each time they tried something new, it inched her resistance to their predictable bullshit a bit higher. (Dumbasses.)
The ghost's mouth opens and Lane flinches as it howls, as the winds outside fill her bedroom and the temperature drops. Her bones are icing over, freezing her from the inside out and it burns, it’s so cold. It shouldn’t, the Traveler was hot, like all the energy of a star had been compressed into a creature.
She watches in horror as liquid seeps from the double’s forehead and the spot on her chest. It drips, thick and slow, onto the carpet and now it’s— Lane blinks and finally tears her gaze from the ghost as something drips into her eyes. If her fingers weren’t frozen before, they are now, covered in glowing, blue slime. It seeps from her chest, mirroring the wound on the double, as the injuries that killed her try for a second time.
If she dies here, like this, will it stick?
She doesn’t want to find out. She doesn’t want to die, not again, as much as she tests the limits of her second (Third? First? Depends who you ask.) chance at life.
“Stop it!” She’s no longer soft, or gently pressing, but shrill as she screams, willing her voice to carry over the wind. “Shut up!”
And to her surprise, it does.
Lane sits there another moment, staring at the empty spot where her ghost from the ages had, and it’s as if she was never cold. There are no stains on her hands, none on her sheets, and when she makes a mad scramble to the end of her bed, sending the EMF flying to the floor, there’s nothing there, either. No ectoplasm, no footprint, and no proof but her own memory. She sinks back on her knees, hands clenching the sheets.
“Depends on what you mean by long. Or if the pauses count. I only do it when I have the time, which isn’t always the case.” Russell slid his own piece. “So lucky you.” His words were accompanied by a friendly, teasing smile.
“And how about you? Are you braving an interaction with a stranger, or are you the outgoing type? I’ve had some of the best conversations with people who mostly insist on keeping to themselves, you know…”
“Lucky me,” Lane repeated, sliding a second piece up the board. She flashed Russell her own teasing little smirk. “I hang back, myself. Watch.” She shrugged and settled back on her seat. “Not all of us can be action journalists.”
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Mimi just shrugged, taking Lane’s word on the Noemi thing. She could check later, but right now there were more pressing matters.
…Quite literally. Tons of rock, pressing down on the car… not a great situation.
“I wanna get you out of here, but it might take some time. And also… be loud and also sound like you’re about to be crushed to death. But you won’t. Okay?” Her head cocked to one side. “I could go get Karma to help maybe but… I don’t know if I should leave you here alone.”
"I can handle loud.” Lane brushed a shard of glass from her jeans. Mm. Red stained her fingertips. Had that wound closed, as well?
... Ah, but there were more pressing matters. Lane managed one of her usual sly smiles.
“Well, I think it’s fair to assume you know the rules at least?” One eye crinkled as he winked.
“Russell,” he added. “And I play only as often as someone takes me up on my invitations.” He leaned in, voice hushed a little in mock gossip. “Less and less often these days, but don’t tell ‘the young people’ I was complaining about it.”
Then Russell leaned back. He was tickled a bit, that they seemed to be playing their hair colors - Lane with her vivid red and him with curly black (though really hers was orange and his dark brown, but it tickled him all the same). He slid one piece forward.
“I think that’s a fair assumption.” Lane leaned in conspiratorially. “And I’ll keep my silence. A dismissive eyeroll can be the most painful stab to the heart of all.”
She settled back in her seat, crossing a leg over one knee with her coffee perfectly balanced, just like she had back on her bench. There wasn’t much yet happening, but even so: the first move was critical.
“Have you been inviting strangers for checkers games long?”
