at the end of this loneliness

In every corner of the house, Giselle saw death.

It was ironic considering that Lia hadn’t even died at home (nor was she even truly dead, which was a fact that she hadn’t quite wrapped her head around just yet), but every reminder of her daughter strewn around the house was a reminder of the worst moment of her life. Lia’s unmade bed exposing the strawberry fitted sheet that she loved so much, the strands of brown hair caught in her brush that was sitting on the bathroom counter, the bowl from her last lunch that was soaking in the kitchen sink — every room held a reminder of what Giselle had lost, yet she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of any of it.

In fact, she couldn’t even bring herself to stay in the house for more than an hour at a time. It was only the second day of her bereavement leave and every moment she spent sitting still made her want to crawl out of her own skin. Damn Cap and his stupid need to follow protocol when all she wanted was to return to work, even turning her down when she begged to just sit in the bunk room all day. Then again, the firehouse would probably be suffocating in its own right. No matter how much she loved her team, she wasn’t sure if the comfort of their presence would be worth feeling every bit of their guilt and pity. 

So the only thing Giselle could do was go — where? She had no idea. As far from her house as possible, that was for sure. Away from the water that claimed her daughter, or any water for that matter. She drove aimlessly for an hour, eventually finding herself on the other side of town near Netherville. She’d seen parts of this neighbourhood on the few shifts she got swapped over to the West station, but never in its full glory. Something about this area appealed to her today though. The darkness was soothing on her swollen eyes, and it did wonders in hiding the raw skin around her nose. Giselle hadn’t witnessed the entrance of Netherville opening up to the surface, but a part of her wished that it’d close back up just for today — just while she was down here, just long enough for the place to swallow her into the ground. 

Turning what felt like her hundredth right corner in the winding cavern system, Giselle halted to a stop at the sight of someone else down the tunnel. She’d come across a few other people as she wandered around, but she was mostly able to avoid eye contact with them. This tunnel was more narrow than the others had been, and this individual was taking up most of it while talking to their…winged pet? Giselle got closer to where the duo was standing (hovering?) next to the mouth of a cave. “Sorry, ‘scuse me. Just tryna squeeze on by.”

—

Baz wasn’t sure how they felt about Netherville, really. It was interesting enough to visit — the cave system was expansive and exhilarating, and there was certainly plenty to explore — but they didn’t like spending an abundance of time there. They missed the sunlight too much, felt a little too compressed between the stone walls and the hanging rocks. They’d certainly never want to live or work underground, no matter how charming the bugganes were at times. But there were certainly things to do in Netherville all the same. Today, they were looking to explore a particular collection of mushrooms they’d heard might be good for cooking or psychedelics. They couldn’t remember which one now, though they thought figuring it out might be half the fun.

They just needed to get this pixie to give them proper directions first. It was always a hassle, trying to talk to pixies. They never quite gave you what you wanted, even when you were fae. And they were a bit self-obsessed, in Baz’s very humble opinion. Sure, their wings were very nice and pretty, but they weren’t half as great as they always seemed to think they were. Half of their silly little games didn’t even make sense, did they? You couldn’t play chess with apple slices, no matter how you bit the ends. 

“I’m not going to give you my hair,” Baz griped, crossing their arms over their chest, “so you may as well stop asking. I just need directions, mate! I know it’s in this tunnel, just tell me which cavern so I’m not marching into someone’s living room. Come on! Aren’t we pals? Aren’t we —” 

Someone interrupted them, trying to squeeze by. Baz turned towards her, brightening a little. Now here was someone more useful than a pixie… or someone who could be offered to the pixie in exchange for directions. (The pixie wouldn’t hurt her, they were pretty sure! It would just annoy her a bit! That was fine, morally speaking, so long as Baz got their mushrooms.) “Ah! Maybe you can help me a bit more than this useless bugger — don’t give me that look, I’ve only asked you twelve times now. Do you happen to know which way the Mush Room is?”

—

Giselle’s initial instinct was always to help. After all, that was what she was quite literally paid to do. Even on the days where she was out of uniform, she would jump at the chance to give directions or offer to take a group photo. Today, she prayed that the person would simply step aside and let her pass without saying a single word. As she neared the duo, however, she knew that wouldn’t be the case considering how chatty the pair were — especially now that she could identify the winged pet as a pixie. 

“I don’t really know my way ‘round here that well…” she replied as politely as she could muster, though the conversation was temporarily sidetracked when the pixie gave the other a particularly nasty look. The pixie emitted an air of playfulness, pure glee radiating from its soul that Giselle usually sensed from children. The other individual was evidently not in the same boat, their frustration clouding the air. Not that the empath could really fault them; the few run-ins she’d had with pixies in the past had been equally as aggravating. 

She shook her head at the mention of a mushroom, offering the other an apologetic shrug while largely still avoiding eye contact. God forbid they ask about her pathetic-looking state. Still, Giselle couldn’t quite find it in her to just walk away, and even if it did seem ridiculous that this person was on the hunt for some tourist mushroom down here, it seemed like it was important to them. “Hey, look,” she finally said, directing her attention to the pixie. The woman reached up to her scalp, plucking a single strand of hair from her head. “It’s hair you want, right? If I give you this, can you show this person where they wanna go? Please?” She spoke slowly, making sure she was being careful with her words. The absolute last thing she needed right now was to be stuck in some fae bind. 

The pixie’s eyes widened, its head bobbing back and forth as it seemed to consider her request. Then, a wide smile stretched across its face. “Nice human! See, other human? How easy it is to be nice? Nice human give, so I return. Follow me!” Perhaps Giselle should’ve been a little more concerned about what the pixie was going to do with her hair, but it had snatched it out of her hand and zoomed down the hall before she could properly process anything. She gestured in the same direction where the pixie was hovering near an entrance just a few paces down. “After you,” she said to the other human, hoping that she could be on her way once the person was dropped off at their mushroom attraction.

—

The woman looked… well, she certainly didn’t look as though she was thriving. Now that Baz could fully take her in, it was clear that there was something going on with her. She looked… flat, for lack of a better word; like an inflatable with half the air drained out of it. There was certainly something sad about the way she held herself, as if there was a physical weight bearing down on her. Baz didn’t like it much. They’d always preferred to be around people who were cheerier, people who made for easy conversation and exciting distractions. Being around people who were sad and dreary always threatened to make them think their own sad and dreary thoughts, and that was the sort of thing they preferred to avoid whenever possible.

“New to town, then?” They pressed, hoping small talk might… fix her a bit. Perk her up, maybe, make her a bit less deflated. After all, who wouldn’t want to make small talk with Baz, of all people? They were great at cheering people up! They had loads of secret methods! Granted, most of those involved a touch less clothing than they wore now, but they could make due with what they had. 

It seemed their charm, even when very lightly applied, did wonders, though. Within seconds, the woman was plucking a hair from her own head and offering it to the pixie. She didn’t seem particularly surprised by the creature, nor did she hesitate to do what anyone who was familiar with the little buggers might do. It was enough to pique the doppelganger’s curiosity. She wasn’t fae — there was no quiet tug in their gut to mark her as such — but maybe she wasn’t human, either? Baz didn’t think they’d be able to move on until they knew for certain. 

The pixie spoke, accusing Baz of being unkind — and, worse still, human. They huffed, rolling their eyes and crossing their arms over their chest. “Don’t be daft,” they griped. “You know I’m not…” They paused, looking over at the woman. “...unkind just because I won’t give you my hair.” But the pixie was already off, leading the way towards the Mush Room with the woman’s hair in hand. Baz, without really thinking more of it, linked their arm with the woman’s, dragging her along towards the door the pixie indicated. “This’ll be good for you,” they said, though they had no idea what had the woman looking so unhappy to begin with. “Trust me, they’ve got loads of exciting stuff in here.”

—

Small talk was an art, really — find a topic so general that no one could get offended, preferably one where they got to talk about themselves for a bit, and fill the silence from there with menial chatter. Giselle didn’t love it but she was damn good at it, much to Lia’s annoyance. The amount of times she’d been stuck staring at one of her mom’s friends in the grocery store because two grown women couldn’t stop yapping had always driven her crazy. Giselle had always brushed her daughter off, reminding her that small talk was a part of fostering community. Good manners. 

Right now, however, Giselle wanted nothing more than to tell their sudden acquaintance to shut up and leave her the hell alone.

“Newish to this part of town, but not in general,” she said with a forced smile, rubbing away the dull sting of her freshly-plucked scalp. On a better day, she might’ve made some teasing remark about how she’d been in this town longer than the other had been alive. “Judging from your accent though, perhaps you’re the one who’s new around here,” she said instead, arching an eyebrow at the use of the word daft. A younger Lia would’ve loved that, the faintest smile tugging at Giselle’s lips as she recalled the years when her daughter was obsessed with all things British. Something about their ‘dreamy’ accents; she never quite understood it.

The pixie zipped off, and the empath silently prayed that the other individual would forget all about her as they rushed off to their giant mushroom. Instead, the person linked their arm with hers, and Giselle briefly squeezed her eyes shut as she was dragged down the corridor. How could you know what’s good for me, she thought to herself as they neared the pixie’s chosen entrance. But then again, it wouldn’t have taken an empath or a genius to sense that something was wrong with her, and this person — this stranger — was going out of their way to attempt to cheer her up. The polite thing to do was accept their kindness, no matter how much she wanted to sulk alone.

“I don’t see what’s so exciting about a giant mushroom, but I guess it’s a pretty big feat of agriculture,” Giselle said as they arrived, the pixie flying in manic circles around the dark entrance. “Here! Mush Room is here! You go first. You must!” The winged creature gestured towards the nothingness, and the only thing that Giselle was able to detect was the sound of dripping water. “Well, apparently your mushroom is down here so…” She sighed. Even if she was off duty, she was not going to send a civilian headfirst into a potentially dangerous situation. She unlinked her arm from the stranger’s, holding her hand out instead for them to take. “Shall we?”

—

Small talk didn’t seem to be exactly what the woman was after, but Baz wouldn’t let that deter them. They were good enough at small talk for the both of them, which really just meant that they were good at filling silences. It was rare for Baz to find themself not chattering away, and it never seemed to matter much who they were chattering to or with. They could find something to say to anyone and everyone, find a way to make sure the crushing weight of quiet never pressed down on their shoulders enough to be uncomfortable. Had this woman not come along, they’d have been yapping away to the pixie without hesitation, but… they were glad to have a more relatable audience instead. Pixies were a bore to chat with.

“Suppose that’s true for most people. I’ve heard this part of town wasn’t accessible until recently. Is it true that it was all blocked away underground?” They knew it was, of course, had spoken to many people who’d been in town when the neighborhood was uncovered, but small talk was the most fun when you could ask the person you were speaking to a few questions. “Oh, no,” they replied, shaking their head. “Been in town about a year now, though. Plenty of time to get in the swing of things, yeah?”

The woman allowed herself to be tugged along, much to Baz’s delight. If she’d have said she needed to go, the doppelganger wouldn’t have argued. They weren’t the sort to push people into things they did not want so long as the person in question was vocal about not wanting the things Baz was pushing towards. If someone didn’t say they were uncomfortable, though, Baz found it easy enough to tell themself they had no way of knowing even if it wasn’t entirely true. Of course this woman wanted to go to the Mush Room with them! Why wouldn’t she? 

“It’s not a giant mushroom! It’s a room full of mushrooms. A mush room. There’s all sorts! Edible ones, inedible ones, ones that will give you all sorts of fun ways to spend your night.” And supernatural ones, though Baz kept that detail to themself. This woman wasn’t too thrown by a pixie, but magical mushrooms might still be a bit much for her. Finally, the pixie stopped them in front of a tunnel. Baz hesitated for a moment, the darkness a little daunting, but the woman they’d decided was their friend remained at their side, and they grinned. “We shall,” they agreed, tugging her along through the tunnel. 

—

Giselle nodded slowly, not sure how in depth she wanted to go about the topic. Everybody had their questions about how the Netherville opening came to be, and she was far from the mood of wanting to entertain them. It wasn’t like she had the answers either — that incident may have been an all-hands situation, but East station had mostly been in charge of steadying the area above ground. “Completely blocked off, until the day it wasn’t. Seems folks were quick to make the most of the space though,” she said simply with a shrug. 

The woman bit her lip, a swell of sadness washing over her once more. “A year is both plenty of time and no time at all,” she said without thinking, swallowing down the lump in her throat. A year could feel like an eternity, yet if she were to be given one more year with Lia, it wouldn’t be enough. Giselle looked down at her feet, clenching her jaw as she forced a happier expression on her face. “I mean, you definitely chose an interesting year to move here, hon. With all the chaos and whatnot, a real Wicked’s Rest welcome!” She said, wincing slightly at how overly chipper she sounded. Perhaps it was best she shut up for a bit, letting the other lead the conversation instead. 

A room of mushrooms? While she admittedly appreciated the pun in the name, Giselle couldn’t really see the appeal of the described attraction. She was neutral about mushrooms — she wouldn’t go out of her way to eat them, but she wasn’t about to pick them out of a dish either. There was a call about a month ago that her paramedics got sent to where a man ate a mystery mushroom off of the side of a hiking trail — if the Mush Room was visited by people as stupid as that, then Giselle had a feeling that the place was going to get shut down at some point. Still, her acquaintance seemed excited by the place, and she hated raining on people’s parades. 

“I hope they label their edible versus inedible mushrooms very clearly. And the…”fun” ones,” she said, making an exaggerated air quotes gesture with her hands. She didn’t like where this was going nor did she want to find out what this “fun” entailed. Then again, maybe something like that would do her some good. Who was stopping her? Lia was dead and she wasn’t allowed to work — for once, Giselle had no responsibility to her daughter or her community. For once, she was existing for her own sake. Maybe a peek at the “fun” mushrooms wouldn’t hurt.

She firmly grasped the other’s hand as they started into the tunnel, carefully shuffling her feet to make sure that there was no obstructing debris on the path. Luckily her vision adjusted to the pitch black relatively quickly thanks to how dark the rest of Netherville had already been. “That lil’ fella is still following us, isn’t it?” Giselle asked, though she already knew the answer. At least, she hoped that the two auras she was sensing in the darkness belonged to the stranger and the pixie. 

Thank god it wasn’t a lengthy trek, and a dim light at the end of the tunnel grew brighter with every step. When she finally led the stranger into a room, her eyes widened at the walls lined with colourful mushrooms. Each emitted a neon glow that reminded Giselle of glow-in-the-dark mini golf. “Sooo, this is neat and all, but do people just come here and start eating them off of the walls? Please tell me that’s not what happens.” 

—

“They’ve done some interesting things with it,” Baz agreed, nodding their head thoughtfully. There were some interesting spots in Netherville, though it certainly wasn’t a neighborhood the doppelganger had spent much time in. They liked areas with more natural light and nature beyond just mushrooms and rocks, even if the former was what brought them here today. Mushrooms were fun enough, but that didn’t mean the doppelganger wanted to spend all of their time in dark and dingy locations. Who would? 

She was right, of course. A year could be an eternity, but it could also be the blink of an eye. When Baz thought of where they were a year ago, before their move to Wicked’s Rest, it sometimes felt as if it had been a different life. In many ways, it had been. After all, they’d had a different face then, a different name. They liked to think of it in those terms, liked to imagine that the terrible things that happened in London had happened to someone else. If it was Sean who had suffered that loss instead of Baz, then Baz didn’t have to carry the weight of it. Baz didn’t have to struggle beneath the blanket of grief. “From what I’ve heard, every year in this town is interesting. I heard rumors of a giant leg a while back?” They grinned, easily shoving aside any and all feelings of grief and uncertainty. Baz was good at that.

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Baz assured her, though their stomach lurched a little with the words because they weren’t sure. Fae liked tricks, after all, and if fae were behind the Mush Room, it was likely that there was no labeling whatsoever. More likely, things were intentionally mislabeled in the interest of causing as much chaos as possible. This was no deterrent to Baz, of course. They loved chaos. It was a part of their very nature, a thrum that had always existed somewhere deep in their gut. They wouldn’t let this woman eat any poisonous mushrooms, of course… but maybe a psychedelic would be fun. 

The tunnel was narrow and dark and more boring than scary, really. Baz wasn’t entirely worried about anything jumping out at them from the shadows, though perhaps they should have been. By nature, Baz had never been the sort of person to fear what might happen. Their fear tended to be reserved only for a moment already in full swing, when the writing was on the wall. Anything short of that didn’t bother them much. Especially not when they had a hand to hold, even if that hand did belong to a stranger. They were fine so long as they were being touched. It had always been that way.

Before long, they stood before the Mush Room, and Baz quickly pulled their companion inside. The glow of the mushrooms on the wall illuminated the small cavern, and Baz found themself delighted with the overall aesthetic of it. They pulled the stranger over to one wall, oohing and ahing at the display. “Well, I imagine they take them home and wash them first,” they replied, plucking a bright pink mushroom between their fingers and offering it to her. “Maybe a quick Google search to make sure it won’t kill you.”

—

Even if this neighbourhood was interesting indeed, Giselle silently thanked the universe that Netherville wasn’t part of her jurisdiction. The thought of attempting a rescue in the dark, winding tunnel systems sounded like a nightmare, though she was pretty sure that she’d already experienced the biggest nightmare call of her career. 

Her mind started to drift back to that night — the absolute silence on the boat as she held her breath, the splashing as Kelly struggled in the water, the cold stare that Lia gave her before she swam off to god knows where. Giselle pinched her upper arm, forcing herself to snap out of it while in her new companion’s presence. “The giant leg! Yes, that was…something.” She was glad to have something else to focus her attention on, though she couldn’t quite find the words to describe the situation without it sounding like some fairytale. But then again, this stranger seemed somewhat comfortable with the oddities in town considering how casually they’d been chatting with the pixie. 

“Imagine a giant leg just stomping around town. Literally like someone ripped off a leg from a store mannequin and made it five times bigger.” The thought of the giant leg actually brought the tiniest smile to her face as she remembered the group of professionally-trained emergency personnel chasing it around. “Some of my colleagues tried making a giant lasso to catch it. Some real cowboy movie shit. Look up pictures of it if you’re ever bored and need a laugh.” That was, if pictures of the giant leg even existed, or had it been scrubbed from the internet like a lot of incidents around town had mysteriously been.

Glowing mushrooms were perhaps not as shocking of a sight as a giant leg, but it was still odd to Giselle. Odd, but admittedly beautiful. The place seemed to meet their companion’s expectations as she watched them marvel at one wall. Their eyes were jumping from colour to colour, and the empath almost wanted to take the chance to slip back out of this Mush Room mushroom room. However, she couldn’t bring her feet to move despite how reluctant she’d been to come here in the first place. Was she possibly…enjoying the company? It wasn’t like she’d been isolated since Lia’s death, but everyone who came to talk to her radiated a suffocating aura of pity. It was almost nice talking to someone who had no clue what was wrong with her. 

A pink mushroom was held out to her, and Giselle grimaced. “You’re just picking these up willy nilly…are we sure there aren’t some poisonous spores on it? Should I run a toxin test in here?” Though she swiftly relented with a sigh, seeing as the two of them were still upright and breathing. Being taken out by a poisonous mushroom would be far from the worst thing to happen to her this month anyways. Giselle accepted the glowing fungus and observed it, albeit a safe distance from her face. “I’m definitely not putting any of these in my mouth, no matter if Google deems them safe or not. I do…I do like this one, though. Reminds me of the pink lava lamp that my daughter has in her room.” She smiled sadly at the thought of the lamp, still untouched like the rest of the things in Lia’s room.

—

She got a faroff look on her face, like her mind had drifted some place unseen. Baz saw that a lot from people around town. Baz saw it from Joel, sometimes, though they knew Joel preferred it when they pretended not to see it at all. They wondered if this woman would prefer the same, wondered if she’d rather they look away and allow the mushrooms to distract them from the sad glint in her eyes. Perhaps the kindest thing to do was to simply avoid commenting on it, to let the conversation turn to the town’s strange history instead.

They perked up a bit as the woman confirmed the giant leg in a way that implied she’d certainly been present for it, curiosity thrumming in their chest. It was difficult to find good recountings of things that had happened in this town before Baz and Joel had come to be a part of it. Internet searches never turned up anything useful, with any real stories of what had occurred buried beneath so much nonsense that it was impossible to parse. Whoever was responsible for the coverups in this town was good at what they did, which was inconvenient for someone as nosy as Baz.

Luckily, their new mushroom friend seemed willing to offer a firsthand account. Baz grinned, hanging on every word and letting out a delighted laugh at the mental image she provided. “I imagine that made for a bit of an odd day. Or week? How long does a giant leg crisis typically span?” They waved a hand at the idea of looking up pictures, shaking their head. “Can never find anything worthwhile,” they sighed. “Always just end up with a load of rubbish and bad photoshop. Intentionally bad photoshop, if you ask me.” 

They found the mushrooms a lovely sight, at least; lovelier, probably, than the giant leg would have been. If they could commit it to memory, they thought they might like to try to paint it. It was the only way they’d be able to. They doubted they’d be able to get an easel in here undisturbed, doubted they’d be left alone long enough to make anything worth making. Maybe they’d add their new companion to the canvas, too, illuminated by the soft glow of the mushrooms. 

They tilted their head when she questioned their willingness to just pick up a mushroom willy nilly, shrugging a shoulder. “If there are toxins in here, we’re probably fucked, anyway. May as well have a bit of fun, yeah?” Their grin widened when she accepted the mushroom offering, and they laughed at her unwillingness to stick any in her mouth. “Suppose that’s fair enough. I might try a few. What if they’re the greatest thing I’ve ever tasted? I can’t risk missing out on a thing like that!” That was the worst case scenario for Baz, who never thought a thing dangerous so long as it was beautiful. They weren’t worried that the mushrooms would hurt them, because they were pretty to look at. Instead, they were afraid of what they’d miss by hesitating, what experiences other people might be able to claim without them. Their brows raised as the woman mentioned her daughter, head tilting to the side. “Always wanted a lava lamp,” they commented. “How old is she? Your daughter.”

—

“It was only in my jurisdiction for a day, but the aftermath? Yeesh, I wanna say a week or so? But mostly because some folks started blaming everything on the leg. Drove into a bush? Giant leg. Cat stuck in a tree? Giant leg.” Giselle couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness. Firefighting rarely felt like the heroic job that they showed in corny action movies — too much suffering and loss for that (she would know). However, it made the more whacky happenings around town a welcome break, even if they were a headache at the time. At least they made for entertaining stories. “Well, the next time a rogue giant leg runs through town, I’ll remember to take my own picture evidence. Can’t rely on the Internet to provide.” She paused, then rapped her knuckles on her head. “Knock on wood it doesn’t though.”

Their companion was right — there was no point in doing a test here. The spores would already be in their system at this rate, slowly spreading to every inch of their lungs until they stopped breathing. God, how mildly tempting that would be. Giselle’s family had never been overtly religious; she wasn’t really sure what she believed about the afterlife. However, if someone could prove to her that it was real and that she’d have a chance to reunite with Lia again, then she’d undoubtedly take it.

Except, Lia wasn’t actually dead. Or was she? She had no fucking clue. She hadn’t been at work to get answers from Kelly, and she promised him that she wouldn’t go chasing Lia on her own. As much as she wanted to pick up the phone and probe, it didn’t feel right. At least, not during his own time off. He never asked to be dragged into all of this, Giselle knew that. However, even if Lia’s heart wasn’t beating anymore, there was still some part of her that was alive. Kelly might have some answers, and she needed to stay alive to get them from him. 

“Tsk, tsk. FOMO is the silent killer,” Giselle said with a click of the tongue, her eyebrow raised. How many people that they saved on calls got themselves into stupid situations simply because they didn’t want to miss out? (And how many people like Lia had they failed to save?) “But I’m off duty and I’m not gonna tell ya how to live your life. Put them in your mouth if you want, hon. Me and my first aid training will be watching from a safe distance.”

The woman basked in the pink glow, a mix of emotions twisting at her heart. She remembered when Lia begged for that neon lava lamp. Giselle didn’t know what was so cool about it; what if it fell over and exploded neon goo all over the place? But seeing it illuminate Lia’s room at night, and more importantly, feeling how happy it had made Lia, the empath had decided that it was pretty damn cool after all. “Yeah, lava lamps are rad,” she said to the other though her smile faltered, her emotions ebbing and flowing like the water that had taken Lia from her. 

She was mentally cursing herself for it too, because she should’ve known better than to bring up her daughter around someone else. People always asked about kids — how could they not? Parents were always itching to talk about their kids to their company’s dismay, wanting to show off to the world the wonderful child that they’d raised. Maybe subconsciously, she did want to talk about Lia. She wanted people to pry no matter how painful it was, because it meant that she’d get to relive the memories along with them. Giselle knew her daughter would be missed, that wasn’t a question. However, the thought of Lia’s memory dying out over time terrified the empath. She wanted her daughter to be known. 

“She’s sevente– she was seventeen. She’s…she’s gone now,” Giselle’s breath hitched as she repeated Kelly’s words from that night. Lia was gone, and she had only been seventeen. God, she was only seventeen — a teenager with her whole life ahead of her, a life of joy and wisdom and love and god, how Giselle wished she hadn’t wasted the past few years butting heads with her all of the time. “Sorry, not the time or place. Not in your lovely mushroom cave,” the woman apologetically nodded at her companion, then whipped her head away from them. Busying herself with a particularly stumpy blue mushroom on the opposite wall, she bit her lip hard as the tears started to fall. 

—

Baz could hardly blame anyone for blaming the giant leg for all their problems. If Baz had had a giant leg to blame things on, they’d certainly have jumped at the opportunity to do so. As it was, they found plenty of other things to pin their shortcomings to, plenty of reasons to cling to as to why things were never quite their fault. It was because someone was nasty to them, it was because their circumstances were bad, it was because of anything and everything except Baz themself. Why not blame it on a giant leg? Any scapegoat you could sink your fingernails into was good in their book. “Oh, I don’t know,” they hummed, shrugging a shoulder. “I’d like to see it. It wasn’t that bad, was it? The town turned out just fine!”

Of course, it was easy to say that in the aftermath. It was easy for someone uninvolved to come sweeping in when the chaos had finished and observe the way things were left and decide that, yes, everything was fine now. Baz knew that, on some level. It just didn’t matter to them that they knew it. They liked it when things were fine and simple and breezy, and so they imagined that things were always that way even when they weren’t. It worked for them, at least to the extent that anything worked for them.

“Nothing’s a silent killer where I’m involved,” Baz replied with a wink, popping one of the mushrooms into their mouth and chomping down on it. They might as well, right? They doubted it would kill them. They thought poison would not be an effective way of killing a doppelganger, given their adaptability. Wouldn’t their body, when faced with impossible odds of survival, rumble and change to meet those odds head on? Weren’t they, at least to a certain extent, some version of invincible? Baz had survived enough impossible things to earn them a heavy confidence in their own ability to stay alive.

They nodded as the woman spoke of lava lamps, feeling a surge of envy at the way she spoke of her daughter. Neither Baz’s mother nor their father would speak of them with such fondness, they knew; neither would buy a lava lamp for their bedroom just because they wanted it. Sometimes, they felt things were jarringly unfair. This woman had a daughter whose mother adored her, bought her lava lamps, talked about her to strangers for no reason at all. Hadn’t Baz deserved the same? Why didn’t they get something like that? 

Except… the woman continued, and perhaps her daughter was no one to feel envious of at all. She was dead, then. Dead at seventeen, despite having a mother who loved her. Would she think it unfair, Baz wondered, that someone like them — unloved, and perhaps unlovable — was so confidently invincible that they could pop a random mushroom into their mouth without a thought? 

“Oh,” they breathed, something heavy in the word. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.” Except… there was something strange about their voice. The pitch of it was wrong and, for a moment, Baz thought it might have been empathy. They were sort of new to the whole ‘empathy’ thing in general, so how could they be certain what it was meant to sound like? But… no, that wasn’t quite it. Their voice echoed off the walls of the cave, and their brow furrowed. “I don’t think this is the sort of thing you can be expected to leave at the door of a mushroom cave,” they continued, mostly just to hear their own voice. And — yes. Okay. They heard it now. It sounded a bit like they’d inhaled several balloons worth of helium. Poor timing, probably…

—

Giselle was almost envious that her companion could have such a positive outlook on the disturbance. Then again, it was her field specifically that really opened her eyes to how destructive these incidents could be. That was her job, wasn’t it? Clean up the mess so that civilians didn’t have to worry. Even if she considered her company’s point of view to be a bit naive, she’d rather that response than someone riddled with giant leg trauma. 

She watched the other bite down on the mushroom without a second thought, not even a drop of hesitation radiating from them. A warning was on the tip of Giselle’s tongue, but the words died in her throat as the memories of Lia and her lava lamp flooded her mind. She couldn’t bring herself to stray away from the topic no matter how poor of an idea it probably was to spill her heart to a stranger, only further spurred on by the searing envy that started to bloom in her chest. The other was jealous. Of the lamp? Or likely something more. She wasn’t going to pry — not when she was already doing more than enough to disrupt their day. 

Then came Giselle’s least favourite part of the story, and the woman felt the moment that envy fizzled into empathy, any of their words temporarily falling onto deaf ears as grief threatened to take over again. Funnily enough, empathy was becoming the empath’s least favourite emotion to sense lately. At least hearing ‘terribly sorry’ in that accent was new; a nice variation of the many other condolences she’d been receiving. But her companion’s empathy didn’t linger like so many others’ did — they began radiating curiosity instead, eager to find out something about themselves. Giselle was no mind reader by any means, but she was pretty damn good at reading between the emotional lines. The other’s drifting emotions likely meant that they’d already moved on, not hung up on giving her more pity and comfort than she needed. Giselle liked that; it was a breath of fresh air during these suffocating past few days. 

She sniffled and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, getting ready to apologize for dampening the mood when the stranger beat her to break the silence. Only, their voice sounded nothing like it had moments ago before consumption of the mushroom. Giselle blinked at them curiously, their helium-infused voice finally registering in her head. As serious as their expression was, every word coming out of their mouth sounded like a cartoon critter. The empath felt something warm blossoming within the numbness in her heart, then she threw her head back and laughed. A hearty laugh that came right from the soul, something that wouldn’t have seemed possible a few days ago. “I told you these darn things would have side effects! Was the taste worth it to sound like Alvin and the Chipmunks?” She said in between snickers, unable to tame her amusement at the ridiculousness unfolding before her. She was getting comforted in a glowing mushroom cave by a cartoon chipmunk wannabe; Lia probably would’ve found that hysterical.

When the laughter finally subsided, Giselle looked to the glowing mushroom wall once more. She admired the beauty of each one; different in colours, shapes, and sizes, but all working to light up a dark corner of town. “I really needed that laugh. Thanks, stranger,” she said quietly, offering her new companion the most genuine smile she had given all day. “For inviting me to your mushroom room. Ah, Mush Room. I’m glad our paths crossed.” The grief in her heart thrummed steadily; that feeling in her heart would never go away as long as she didn’t have her daughter in her life. However, just for now, it took a backseat to something much more welcome. Relief, connection, humour — things that wouldn’t fully fix her, but it would do for now. It’d have to.

—

Grief was not something Baz knew how to contend with. They ignored their own, shoving it into a hole somewhere deep in their chest until they could no longer see it at all, as if they were a child with a blanket pulled over their head certain that a thing could not hurt them so long as they couldn’t see it. Other people’s grief made them uncomfortable, like something tight wrapping around their heart and squeezing in a way that wasn’t quite painful, but was certainly not pleasant. Privately, Baz often thought that others should shove their grief down, too, ignore it as Baz did. Wasn’t it better that way? Wasn’t it easier? The doppelganger couldn’t fathom the idea of someone taking the harder path of things, couldn’t comprehend the idea of doing the difficult thing when the easy thing was right there. It was why they hadn’t wanted to tell Luc about Sebastian’s fate. Why bother? Why invite grief in when you could just lock the door?

But then, surprisingly, a laugh cut through the empty cavern. It bounced off the walls with an echo, settling pleasantly somewhere in Baz’s eardrums. They found themself grinning a little at the sound, letting it wrap itself around them in a way far more comfortable than that remembered sensation of grief, 

“I’d say the taste was more than worth it,” they replied, voice still pitched high. They wondered how long the effects would last. They assumed it would be only a short while, though they were hardly upset about the outcome. It made her laugh, and their voice would go back to normal soon enough. (If it didn’t do so on its own, they were certain they could force it with a few transformations. Nothing was ever permanent for a doppelganger. Baz knew that better than anyone.) “You should take some home with you, try it out yourself. I’m certain you’d have fun with it.” And she could probably use the fun.

No one got into firefighting for the love of a twenty-four hour shift, but Giselle might’ve been one of the few who actually enjoyed them. She liked the unpredictability that it brought with it, and she strangely enjoyed the feeling of running on fumes in the dead of night. It brought about an adrenaline that she couldn’t quite explain. But that was exactly what she was today — running on fumes, stifling a yawn as she leaned her head against the truck window. It had been an incredibly long shift already with more calls than usual. Naturally, she was going to put the blame on the probie who had invoked the infamous ‘quiet’ curse at noon. 

If only she’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep before her shift, but Giselle had been tossing and turning all night after yet another fight with Lia. Just another argument over a party that she definitely didn’t want her daughter attending, and Lia failing to understand why she was still being so protective when she was ‘already an adult, I’m seventeen.’ God, the way Giselle missed being so naive; her younger self hadn’t been exempt from the teenage mentality of life peaking in high school, not realizing that she still had her whole life ahead of her. At least this fight had ended in somewhat of a truce. “You may see yourself as an adult, but you’ll always be my baby girl. You have to understand that,” Giselle had said, her voice firm despite the tears pricking in her eyes. Lia had responded sympathetically to that, offering her a hug before going off to bed. That had been genuine — she had felt her daughter’s sincerity buried somewhere within the frustration. 

It was fine, they were fine, yet the temporary reassurance had done nothing in easing the weight in Giselle’s heart that night. The deeper fractures in their relationship still hung heavy in the air.

So perhaps she was a little tired now. Perhaps she was zoning out a bit, sue her. They had just entered Deersprings and this call was all the way out by the water, so she still had some time before she had to fully focus up. “…what do you think, Lieutenant?” Schaefer suddenly called out from the other side of the truck. Giselle blinked back at him, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, what?” She had caught bits of the conversation that was happening, but she had learned by now to tune the kid out. She simply did not care about the trysts of a twenty-something year old. “The girl from my gym! I’ve texted her four times this past week, and she hasn’t responded to any of it!” Schaefer said with an exasperated wail. Giselle shook her head disapprovingly. “Hon, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m positive that she’s not into you.” This got another wail out of Schaefer, but laughs from the rest of the truck. She swore she even saw Cap crack a smile in the front seat.

With the rest of the truck focused on Schaefer’s dramatics, Giselle nudged the man sitting next to her. “Has your son been reacting well to the sitter?” she said in a much gentler tone than the one that she had offered Schaefer. She liked Kelly — he was good at his job, not to mention that he was doing it while juggling being a new parent. He’d make a great addition to the B shift if he ever chose to switch over permanently. “I’m glad I finally got to meet the little guy last Sunday, and your buddy Zack too.”

—

Quiet shifts, Kelly reckoned, were the most dangerous sort. See, thing was, they never stayed quiet. Took one utterance of the q-word, from a fresh-faced young thing who didn’t know better, to get the bells ringing and the engines rolling. He’d never been the superstitious kind, even accounting for the actual magic that ran amuck in the world, but Kelly made an exception for that word. Hell, he tried not to even think the damn thought, lest something overhear and take it personal. Becoming a father, such as he was, had added an additional layer to it all. Last thing that you wanted to even imply around a baby was that he’d gone down easy. Flip had a supernatural sense—well, alright, beyond his literal ones—for when Kelly was slacking off, getting a little lax. Most times, he was sweet as a peach. Other times, sour as a lemon.

Today, though, from the evidence in Kelly’s text chain with Zack, Flip had shown his best buddy the former side. Daniel’s night with Flip had gone fine; Kelly’d scrubbed through the footage later to guarantee it. So well, in fact, that, when Zack offered to give Bethany the day off, Kelly had found himself agreeing without thinking through the logistics. Those, he’d thought through later, while calling himself several names that could only be uttered out of the toddler’s earshot. But, in the end, he’d conceded in the war against himself. It wasn’t a full moon, not anymore, and Flip, safe in the confines of his territory, wasn’t going to give Zack more trouble than the average toddler. Hadn’t. Really, if the past was prologue, Flip wasn’t going to give Zack any trouble whatsoever. Zack could say the q-word all he liked, and Flip would still take a nap, still go down easy for the night. Kelly could imagine a reality where he let that get under his skin, but he was secure in his position in Flip’s world. Zack was a new, tentative, fixture, but Kelly was still the center.

Still, in a way, Kelly was grateful for the distraction of back-to-back calls. Helped him seem less high-strung, less prone to texting Zack every hour, on the hour. Not that he’d needed to request updates, in the way he sometimes did with Bethany. His brief breaks between calls had been punctuated with frequent pictures of Zack and Flip bonding. He thumbed through ‘em, now, oblivious to the conversation around him, saving each to the gallery in his phone, sorted ‘em into the folder for the kid, then, before he could second-guess himself, made a new folder for Zack, and tagged the relevant ones to show up there, too. One, a silly, almost posed, selfie that Zack had taken of the two of ‘em doing a puzzle, Kelly saved to the contact. He didn’t usually assign photos, could read the name quick enough when his phone rang, but it just felt right. …And, hey, if Zack did call, it’d probably lower Kelly’s blood pressure, stop him from jumping to conclusions.

He was jostled from his thoughts by Giselle, to his right—or, more specifically, by Giselle’s elbow. “He’s doin’ alright with her,” Kelly hedged. Flip was used to her, at least, which had to count for something, right? Consistency, that was important. “Zack had him today, actually. Flip likes him better, but I don’t want to put that on Zack’s plate. Feels too much like I’m leanin’ on him, takin’ advantage or somethin’. Just ‘cause he’s close by, don’t mean he signed up for a one-year-old.” Kelly left out the part where Zack had offered, multiple times. He couldn’t be sure if Zack was offering out of some obligation. Not trying to pay Kelly, per se, but trying to pay him back. It didn’t sit right. 

Realizing he’d given Giselle a bit more, there, than he’d meant to (or, really, than she’d asked for), Kelly jumped tracks. “Yeah. It was nice to meet Lia, too. What’s she gettin’ up to tonight? Studyin’ for, what, midterms?” Kelly, who’d spent any moment as a teenager decidedly not studying (unless it was about a beast), figured Lia was most likely spending her Saturday stirring up trouble. It was, Kelly figured, best not to say that to her mother.

—

Giselle was glad to hear that Flip was doing alright with the sitter, but she found the news that Zack was watching him for the day far more interesting. Not that she wanted to be a snoop — sure, she enjoyed her gossip, but as an empath, a lot of the extra intel that she was gathering was unintentional. She couldn’t help that she’d felt similar emotions radiating from both Kelly and Zack at the potluck. Contentment from Zack while holding Flip, trust from Kelly while he watched the two — though, in Giselle’s opinion, it didn’t take an empath or even a genius to sense something between the two of them. “Zack’s a grown man. I’m sure he’d draw a line if he felt like you were forcing him. Just enjoy the fact that you have him. Nothing wrong with having a support system,” she forced herself to say instead, a neutral enough statement that wouldn’t expose any of her suspicions. Whatever was going on between the two, that was something that they’d have to figure out for themselves. 

At the mention of Lia, Giselle’s expression softened. “Midterms, yeah. She’s got one more next week. Though she’s under the impression that her grade won’t matter since she’s already sent out her college applications, so who knows if she’s actually studying. That girl, I swear…” she trailed off, shaking her head with a disapproving tsk as if Giselle herself hadn’t done the exact same thing when she was her daughter’s age. 

The topic of college had loomed over the empath like a dark cloud since the start of Lia’s senior year, wanting to know every update possible without giving the teenager yet another reason to push her away. The main comfort that Giselle clinged onto was the fact that the university in Wicked’s Rest was one of Lia’s top choices. At least her daughter didn’t hate her to the point where leaving town seemed like her only option. Though if she were to choose a school that was out of the state, then maybe Giselle would take an extended leave in the summer. Spend more time with Lia before she moved out, perhaps kickstart her own retirement plan early so that she’d be able to visit her daughter more often. 

The radio crackled from the front of the truck, and the chatter immediately quieted down. "East Captain, be advised. Call is at 18 Diluvial Lane. Possible drowning. Caller is on the scene, is a seventeen-year-old female. Victim is a seventeen-year-old female. Caller indicates she jumped into the water twenty minutes ago and hasn't surfaced anywhere near where she dove in. Caller is shaken up. We're treating this as a water rescue; alert dispatch if you need additional support." Giselle looked out at the snow banks that lined the road as the truck entered the denser woods. “Jeez, that poor kid,” she said quietly. Drowning was one of the scariest sensations, and doing so in ice cold water was a fate that the empath didn’t want to envision. “Brooks, you have water rescue experience, right?” she asked the substitute, though she was almost certain that it’d be her going in with Salazer gone, even if Kelly was the one covering for her. Giselle shivered at the mere thought of getting into the water, though the possibility of a family not getting their daughter back hurt her soul even more.

As Cap laid out their rescue plan, Giselle couldn’t help but squint at their surroundings. It wasn’t like Wicked’s Rest was huge, and most of them were incredibly familiar with every nook and cranny of the East side. However, there was an intense familiarity to the road that they were turning down that she could identify even in the dark. “No, this is…” she trailed off, the words getting caught in her throat as she stared out the window in disbelief. This winding road in the woods that lacked any streetlights — Giselle had driven down it plenty of times when picking up Lia from her best friend’s house. “Charlotte’s house,” the empath gasped out as the secluded lakeside home finally came into view, ignoring the aura of confusion from the newer members. As for the older crew — the ones who remembered entertaining a young Lia and Charlotte at the station for all those years — Giselle ignored the feelings of horrified realization that radiated from each one of them.

—

I’m sure he’d draw a line if he felt like you were forcing him. Giselle’s words did little to reassure Kelly. He’d like to be as sure of that. But he remembered the way that Zack had nearly retreated into himself, the night of the fire. The other man had been just about ready to throw in the towel and let his landlord walk all over him. There was no telling what might have happened, if Kelly hadn’t intervened. Or… maybe that was patronizing; Zack had made his way through life just fine without Kelly’s assistance and he’d… presumably continue to do so, after he left. “I know Zack’s grown.” Kelly’s jaw worked. If they were friends, maybe… No point dwelling on it, especially when Giselle didn’t care to hear it. She was just being polite. “Just tryin’ to keep things clear between us.” A support system, huh? Kelly could laugh. He’d never had anything of the sort, not with Flip. He’d considered telling his family about the kid for a single moment, right in the beginning. But, he reckoned, it’d be better if they never knew. Kelly’d been determined to find Flip a home with a pack. Didn’t want ‘em getting attached. More importantly, he didn’t want to risk ‘em turning against Flip (and Kelly), if they found out the truth.

“College was never in the cards for me, so I can’t say one way or the other. How about you, did you ever—” Kelly cut off their conversation quick as the radio sounded out, rattling off the details of their call. His lax posture abandoned, Kelly sat still, leaned forward. He kept his ears quirked for any subtle changes in the dispatcher’s tone, any clues. Twenty minutes under? Christ. Any other time, a rescue’d be off the table, and this’d just be a retrieval. The darkness was playing a part, surely—some optimism that the victim had pulled herself out at the far edge, out of sight and earshot from the caller. Optimism was just about all they had. If the victim was human, she was… “I do,” he answered. “Plenty.” Swimming holes in the mountains were always deeper than folks expected. It wasn’t uncommon for wildland firefighters to be roped into an assist, justified especially when it helped push stubborn individuals of the encroaching flames. That was to say nothing of the times that Kelly had assisted on semi-aquatic jaunts with fellow rangers or wardens. Though, he couldn’t report those hours as continuing education. “If in the water’s where I need to be, just call me a duck.”

Who the hell is Charlotte? Kelly’s immediate question was buried as the truck came to a stop, the crew moving into action. Giselle went off to the side, talking to the caller—Charlotte. Not unusual for a lieutenant to do that, let the captain focus on coordinating the crew. But there was an odd quiet to it all; Kelly hadn’t worked with these folks as much, but communication in the field was key. The chatter, throughout the day, had been consistent. Without the direction of words, Kelly looked to the tasks that hadn’t been taken care of. There was a small pier; folks were getting the boat and lines set up. Lights, then. The moon was still big in the sky, and Kelly could see just fine, but if the victim had hit her head, lights might give her a waypoint. The rig had a few that he could set up along the perimeter alongside a couple of handheld units for when the rescue team went out to comb the surface, scan the other side for signs of life.

His radio crackled to life as he placed the last of ‘em, their light shining dully into the night. “Brooks. Get ready, but make it quiet,” came the voice of the captain. “The victim is Lia Alden. I… don’t need this turning into a two-person rescue.” The implication hung in the air as Kelly radioed his assent. He might have protested on Giselle’s behalf, but stowed it. Emotions could cloud judgment. That was true enough. Kelly didn’t want to think about how he’d act if… No. No time for hypotheticals. All that said, he wasn’t surprised to hear a shouting match as he geared up. He tried his best to tune it out, securing his life jacket, helmet, and other tools efficiently and making his way to the now-inflated orange boat. If Giselle wasn’t going to be able to go in herself, the least Kelly could do was his best.

—

As soon as Charlotte’s house registered in her brain, Giselle closed her eyes in an attempt to sense Lia amongst the noise. This was something she did regularly whenever they were apart; never lingering on her emotions long enough that it’d feel like a breach of privacy, but sensing just enough to know that her daughter was okay. Today, she wanted to feel any part of her daughter’s heart and cling to it for as long as possible. Lia’s fear weakly pulled at Giselle’s soul as the truck came to a stop. She’s shaken from making the call, she’s panicking trying to help her friend, she told herself as she jumped out of the vehicle, as if she could convince herself of what was about to happen. However, seeing Charlotte’s frantic expression come around the corner told her everything that she needed to know — there was nothing like a mother’s intuition, but Giselle didn’t have to be a genius to know that there was something incredibly wrong. 

“Miss Alden! Miss Alden, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened!” Charlotte’s blonde curls fluttered in the night breeze, a few strands sticking to her tear-soaked cheeks. Giselle put a hand on each of her shoulders, making sure her grasp on the girl was firm in an attempt to distract from her own trembling fingers. The rest of the crew weaved around them like a well-oiled machine with Cap barking out orders from just behind her, though Giselle didn’t register any of the noise. She could only focus on her erratic heartbeat hammering in her chest, a strange static falling onto her ears as she heard bits and pieces of Charlotte’s cries. Something, something, Lia. Something, something, jump. Something, something, stupid dare. Despair radiated off of the young girl, along with some…guilt? Regret? The empath did not have time to analyze Charlotte’s emotions right now; the focus was on finding Lia first. 

Lia. Her daughter. Her baby girl, who was in the ice cold water alone and scared. Even for as trained as an empath as she was, for once Giselle couldn’t tell where Lia’s fear ended and her own dread began. At least her daughter wasn’t dead — no, she could still feel the pull of their emotional connection, no matter how quickly it was tapering. They didn’t have much time. She had to go. Giselle had to go in. 

The woman numbly pushed Charlotte aside, only managing one step towards the rocky shore when she felt a hand grab her arm. “Lieutenant, you know just as well as I do that I cannot let you over there,” her captain’s stern voice boomed. 

Giselle attempted to shake him off, but his grip was firm — just like she knew hers would be if the roles were reversed. But she’d butt heads with Cap plenty of times before, and this situation was sure as hell not going to be the time that she stopped. “Captain, suit me up now. You know damn well that I’m your best diver,” she said through gritted teeth, and she detected the slightest twitch in Cap’s expression before he steeled himself. 

“You asked Brooks yourself if he had water rescue experience. Now, Lieutenant Alden, get back to the rig.” Giselle had no intention of following his instructions, but Cap signaled to someone nearby, the young paramedic Caulfield appearing at her side. “Watch her,” was all Cap said as he turned towards the water, and it lit something inside of her. 

“Cap. Captain! You want me to just stand here while my daughter is out there dying? This is fucking bullshit! What if this was one of your girls?” Her words hit him enough for his step to falter, but he continued towards the inflating boat at the shore. “Fuck!” Giselle screamed out, kicking the ground hard enough for the loose rocks to scatter. 

“Lieutenant…why don’t we go over there?” Caulfield said meekly as he hesitantly tugged Giselle towards the direction of the ambulance, but she yanked her sleeve out of his grasp and sunk to her knees onto the pebbled surface, her hands covering her face as she let out another muffled scream. It was getting harder to feel Lia; her daughter’s emotions flickering in and out of Giselle’s consciousness like a dying lightbulb. Fear, sorrow, regret — a hint of hope? Maybe Lia was hearing the commotion above the water, seeing the flashes of red and blue light with her blurring vision. Maybe she knew that her mom had come to save her, and she was clinging onto life until she could get there. 

Giselle sprang to her feet. She would deal with the consequences after Lia was back in her arms. There was still time. She needed more time. She ignored Caulfield’s shouts, taking her chance while Cap was temporarily distracted to sprint to the boat. Brooks was fully suited up at this point, his eyes doing one last scan of the materials as she approached. “Pardon me, Brooks. I need to get on this damn boat.”

—

Despite Kelly’s attempt to drown (shit, poor choice of words) Giselle and the captain out, it wasn’t like he was wearing earplugs. It was damn near impossible not to hear snatches of Giselle’s argument with her captain, or of the aftermath. It… could have been worse, if only barely. Like, if Giselle were a banshee, her shouts and screams, the sheer force of her indignation and rage, would have shattered the windows on the rig. Tough to explain, that one. But no, this was mundane, if no less important for its mundanity. The identity of the victim didn’t change that, awful as it may be, this was a routine call, nothing supernatural to speak of. And, ‘cause of that, Kelly wasn’t sure why the captain thought a single, green paramedic would be enough to hold back a (prematurely, he hoped) grieving mother.

Pardon? Kelly turned that one word over in his head as he regarded the lieutenant. Words were a waste of time. If it were him, he wouldn’t be keeping polite, not with— Was it a way for Giselle to control her anxiety, let herself sink into the formalities of their job instead of the abyss of a panic attack? Was the situation so dire, so unthinkable, that Giselle was in pre-shock, moving on autopilot, defaulting to familiar patterns, titles, and protocols? Giselle was either focused on keeping her emotions in check or entirely preoccupied by what was happening to Lia, and, either way, that made her a liability. He understood why the captain had told her to stay on the shore. But something in her eyes turned any objection into air, the only indication of his hesitation a sigh breathed through his nose.

Unlike Giselle, Kelly hadn’t been told, not explicitly, to keep her off the boat. Just that the captain didn’t want this turning into a two-person rescue, just that Kelly was the one who’d be going into the water. So, whatever he’d told Giselle… Well, that was between her and the captain, right? Kelly might not have heard it. So, when he tossed Giselle a life jacket, Kelly wasn’t disobeying orders, technically. Loophole. “Y’ain’t gettin’ in the water, Lieutenant. We’re doin’ this quick, so we’re doin’ this safe. C’mon.” The most indication he gave that he knew the severity of his—of their—actions was a hand raised to the approaching Caulfield. Whatever happened, he was relieved of duty. Whatever happened, Kelly would let himself be held responsible. Experience had taught Kelly that, if all went well, things worked out in the wash. Their job was never without risk. Best he could, now, was mitigate it, lest Giselle leap from the pier and try to catch him.

The boat could easily fit four, but no one else seemed keen to wade into this mess. Kelly wasn’t sure he could blame ‘em. With Giselle’s life jacket fastened, there wasn’t much else to do but get going. Seconds were precious; any hesitation, from here on, he’d let float away. As for direct opposition, well. Kelly hoped to be across the water, searching for Lia, preferably in the water, before the captain noticed Giselle was with him. The boat sputtered to life and out into water, and Kelly considered whether he should attempt to speak over the motor. In high pressure situations, some firefighters liked to chat. Some even cracked jokes. But some, like Kelly, wanted silence, so that any order, any radio chatter, could be heard, immediately, and put to action. ‘Sides, even if he was inclined, what smalltalk was there to make? Giselle and Kelly had only spoken a handful of times. Talking about the kids was right out, might only set Giselle off. And, at worst, a distraction might make her believe he wasn’t focused. If she believed that, she might get impulsive. If either of ‘em were acting on impulse, tonight, it should be him. He could hold his breath longer, swim faster, dive deeper. He could do this. It was what he was made for.

So, Kelly kept his damn mouth shut, sparing words only to telegraph his next action. “Over there,” he said, voice clipped, grabbing the handle and angling the boat towards where Lia had leapt. “Lights on.” Headlamp, searchlight, and flashlight all went on, their beams joining the light cast from the shore. Unfortunately, all the light in the world on the surface wouldn’t help. Lia was nowhere to be seen; the water was a flat plane. Wherever Lia was, it was deep. Kelly considered the possibilities, hand already going for the dive light holstered at his side. If Lia was alive, she would’ve needed to surface, intermittently. He couldn’t imagine Giselle hadn’t taught her a dead man’s float, not living this close to the water. Pointed to her losing energy. His eyes flickered to the cliffside, guessing at the height of the fall. Head trauma, that was likely. Was she fading in and out, maybe? How long can she hold her breath?

“Alright. I’m goin’ in,” Kelly said, presenting himself to the lieutenant so that she could ensure each part of his gear was secure. Even on a timer, even though Kelly had checked, and double checked, before leaving shore. It was crucial that, no matter how adept he was, Kelly didn’t lose any gear on his way down. Once he was satisfied that he was as safe as he ever was, Kelly hitched himself over the side of the boat and into the frigid water. “If I don’t come up in—”

It was around Kelly’s leg, pulling him under.

—

She expected more resistance from Kelly, or maybe he didn’t want to go against the orders of a lieutenant that wasn’t his own. After this chaos blew over, Giselle knew she would feel bad for roping the poor guy into all of this. “Don’t worry, Brooks. I’ll take full responsibility for this shit,” she affirmed as she slid her arms into the life jacket. She’d definitely be getting a firm talking to after all of this was over, perhaps even a suspension. Though maybe Giselle wouldn’t entirely mind; maybe this would be a sign to finally retire, a sign to spend more time with Lia before she started college. 

She could see Caulfield standing helplessly a few feet away from them. She’d have to apologize to the kid too, and to Cap, though Giselle didn’t dare make eye contact with their leader. Instead, she secured her headlight and climbed into the boat, taking a seat facing the water as she half-heartedly nodded at Kelly’s instruction. “Roger that,” she confirmed verbally, both for Kelly and herself to hear, because of course she wanted to jump into the water. If she wasn’t on the job right now, she would be long gone beneath the surface already. But that wouldn’t fly here, and she knew she was already pushing her luck by being on the boat in the first place. God forbid this turned into a two person rescue.

There was complete silence between the two of them as the boat set off — or, if Kelly was speaking, then it wasn’t registering to Giselle beyond the thumping of her heartbeat in her ears. Ice cold water sprayed onto her face and the empath clenched her jaw at the thought of Lia being submerged at this temperature. Lia, Lia, Lia, Giselle repeated her daughter’s name in her head like a mantra, as if she could manifest the familiar face to break the water’s surface. A particularly strong wave of frustration washed over the empath — frustration had become one of Lia’s predominant emotions in her teen years. Her daughter was near, but as quickly as the feeling of frustration came, it went, and Giselle closed her eyes to try and get a better hold on Lia’s tapering emotions. 

Except she couldn’t. The closer that the boat got to where Lia supposedly landed in the water, the weaker her grasp got on the feeling of her daughter. “Brooks, she’s fading!” Giselle shouted over the sputtering of the engine as it came to a stop. “She’s fading, we have to move, we have t—” She cut herself off. Kelly would have no damn clue what she was talking about, or maybe he’d chalk it up to some insane mother’s intuition. Either way, panicking was not what she needed to be doing right now, even if her heart and soul was on the line. 

Giselle sat up a little straighter, composing herself as best as she could as she checked over Kelly’s gear from head to toe. As much as she wanted to be mom right now, it was also her duty to be lieutenant. “You’re good to go, Brooks,” she told the other as calmly as she could muster, tugging on one of his suit straps out of habit. She then secured her end of the safety rope as he sat on the edge of the boat, which was when a surge of panic suddenly hit Giselle so hard that it felt like the wind was getting knocked out of her. She shouldn’t have been surprised — it was a common feeling for suffocation victims, the split second of pure terror before their last moment where they realized they’d run out of air. 

“Brooks! Brooks, I’m losing her!” The woman shouted over the edge to where Kelly was adjusting in the water. Giselle grasped the edge of the boat, her breaths shallow now as she pictured the sand running out of the metaphorical hourglass, imagining the last bit of light fading from Lia’s eyes. However, her next urgent command got caught in her throat as she watched Kelly struggle in the water ever so slightly, his head then submerging completely. “Brooks!” She yelled his name again, only this time, out of concern for his life. 

“Fuck!” She shouted out, hands immediately moving back to the safety rope. She pulled hard, feeling strong resistance from under the water as if Kelly was actively anchoring himself down. Only, that didn’t make sense, nor did anything happen to him between the time he was on the boat and the time he got in the water. Giselle could feel panic beneath the surface, but only from one person — Brooks’ strong alarm, her daughter’s desperate terror nowhere to be found anymore.

—

Drowning. He was drowning. It’d been so fast. He’d tried to inhale, breath caught on a word, but only managed to inhale water. Stupid. His lungs ached and burned, salt from the brine drenching the soft, sensitive tissue. All the times Kelly had imagined dying (and he’d imagined it, been close to it, more than most) had been no help; you couldn’t prepare yourself out of your instincts, not completely. His traitor body thrashed and struggled to breach the surface. ‘Course, being submerged was nothing new—ranger training wasn’t complete without free diving, learning to hold your breath for one, two, five, ten minutes. But when you dove, you took in air. Without it, he was racing the clock. Kelly needed to secure his mask. In order to secure his mask, he had to let the thing pull him deeper.

As he fumbled with his mask, he tried to wrestle his mind back into submission. Logic. That’d drive out the panic, bury the instincts deep. (Instincts that were trying to keep him alive, but wouldn’t break him free from its grasp.) Whatever had him, it was strong. Supernaturally strong. Kelly had never met a fish that could hold a ranger down. In the murk of the water, seeing in the dark was damn near useless. His other sense wasn’t flaring up, so it couldn’t be a selkie. Could be fae. Protecting the water, displeased with the plastic and fabric and metal of his gear making contact with “their” domain. Had this been what had taken Lia? Light. He needed light. Third order of business, once he could breathe and once he’d freed his leg. Fastening the latches, Kelly kicked out, hard, but the creature, whatever it was, held fast. Dammit.

This far down, no light reached, not even the flood light from the boat. The damn mask was on, but that wasn’t enough. Water was flooding the mask, and there was only one solution to clear the lines. Kelly said a quick prayer to whoever might be listening that Wicked Rest’s waters were clean and swallowed. Down the hatch it went, adding to the burn in his lungs. But he could breathe, and he took a greedy gulp. ‘Course, his relief couldn’t last. He felt another hand try to snag his free leg, and kicked it away. If it could see in the water, it’d know he was breathing again. Unideal, if you were a monster trying to kill Kelly. If it was humanoid, its face should be right… there. With another hard kick down, the grip faltered. It could feel pain. Kelly could work with that. (Would start bringing some of his silver on calls, even if it didn’t much help here. Eve had just told him this town was crawling with creatures. Stupid. So stupid.) He dislodged the dive knife on his belt—steel alloy, serrated to handle and dislodge rope, plastic, or even seaweed. It wasn’t made for jabbing or stabbing, but to free victims from hazards that could hold ‘em down. Still serving that purpose, now.

Kelly curled in on himself, went for the creature’s arm, hoping the shock, if not the pain, would be enough to free him. Nails dug into his pants, and he slashed again, and again. Finally, it reared back, displeased, and shoved at Kelly. New pain lanced through the ranger’s chest, but his leg was free. Best he could, he reoriented himself. He waited for a renewed assault, but none came. Kelly didn’t trust it. Just not his luck. Giselle, somewhere above, tugged on his line, but Kelly resisted the signal. If it could pull him down, it could flip the boat. Giselle’s safety over his own. If he couldn’t kill it, he could wound it—make it flee, make it fear, alert Eve, or Daniel, or even Emilio. So. So, step three. Air secure, leg free, now where was the fucking light? The flashlight cut a beam through the water and, on a wide sweep, Kelly could’ve swore—there. Movement. Was it toying with him? Before he could bring himself to be irritated, there was a presence at his back. Absolutely not. Kelly jerked away, turned to try and catch it in the act, and—

Lia? No. No, no, no.

Her eyes were wide. Confused. Maybe it was a trick of the (limited) light, but Kelly watched alertness (sentience, he swallowed down) bubble and flicker on Lia’s face. Wavering. Her mouth was agape, mouthing words that Kelly couldn’t hear, much less understand. He tried to read her lips, tried to understand, but it was too little, too late. Lia turned, starting to swim away. No!

Surprise had worked before, but Kelly didn’t know if it would work now, not in a fight. But, then, was this still a fight? It was Lia. It was— He needed to rescue Lia, not— She was confused. Disoriented. Something had her in its grips—magic, maybe? They’d figure it out on the surface. This was a rescue. He had to try. Even if something truly awful had happened, even if there was no Lia left to rescue. He had to try. Kelly torpedoed forward, best he could, snagging Lia around her waist and kicking as hard as he could to get ‘em above the water, where Lia would see her mother, recognize her mother, and it would be over. Ignore the dead weight. Ignore the cold. Ignore how she was struggling, kicking against him. Above the water, Kelly made a beeline for the boat. If Giselle could just see Lia, she could… do something. Mothers had their ways, right?

—

Firefighters had a good intuition of when a call turned from a rescue to a recovery, but Giselle didn’t need that intuition — the moment when she couldn’t feel a victim’s racing heart anymore, she’d know what the call had become. Yet, despite feeling a fresh gaping emptiness in her heart where Lia’s emotions had lingered for years up until a few seconds ago, the empath refused to believe the reality. Masking her delusion and denial as optimism, Giselle dug her nails into the rope. She would pull Kelly up, she would confirm that he was fine, and they would continue their search. 

She yanked again, not so hard that it’d restrict his movements down there, but a firm enough tug that every firefighter knew as the signal for ‘get your ass up here now.’ But five seconds, ten seconds, and Kelly had yet to surface. He was still breathing, still feeling, Giselle was at least sure of that. Frustration, concentration, and…shock? She felt Kelly’s emotions spike just as the water started to ripple, the boat rocking along with the sudden movement. He’d clearly just seen or felt something that was causing him to fight back, his steady aura of alarm tinged with a hint of hesitation as if he was debating his next move. Giselle cursed under her breath. Whatever was happening, she wasn’t equipped to help — maybe if everyone hadn’t coddled her like some sort of fragile victim and let her get into the water in the first place. 

She turned towards the shore where she should’ve been able to see the rest of the team, but a thick blanket of fog had settled over the water since the boat had departed shore. All Giselle could see was a hazy glow from the lights that’d been set up. She waved over regardless of the unlikely chance that they could see her, reached back for Kelly’s discarded radio, and began to speak over the crackling static. “Alden to ground. Brooks has subm—”

The boat lurched to the side, a chaos of movement just a few feet in front of her making waves in the water. Giselle dropped the radio to steady herself, adjusting her headlamp in the direction of the commotion to get a better look. When she saw the helmet-clad head bobbing above the surface, she let out the breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. Kelly was in front of her, kicking aggressively towards the boat. “Brooks, you scared the hell out of me! Are you alrig—”

Giselle was cut off again, not from force or the boat’s sudden movements, but from shock. Kelly had something, someone, in tow. A corpse. No, it was thrashing against his hold. A body? Long black hair, shiny and slick against their face — it obscured their eyes, but Giselle knew. She knew. 

“Lia!” she shouted towards the pair, a sob bubbling in her throat. Lia was right there. Lia was moving. Giselle threw herself towards the edge of the boat, leaning so far over that she might as well have been in the water. She pulled on the rope until it burned her hands, digging her heels into the side of the flimsy inflatable boat as if it’d help her get any traction. Kelly and Lia floated closer towards her, but something…something wasn’t right. 

Kelly was kicking, Lia was resisting. 

“Lia, honey, it’s momma! Kelly’s got you. Kelly from the potluck? Don’t be scared, you’re alright now,” she cried out to the girl, reaching her arm as far out as she could. How scared must her poor baby have been, cold and alone while she faded in and out of darkness. She was probably still in shock. Giselle used her free hand to rub at her face, wiping a tear that had fallen. No, she had to pull herself together. It was finally her turn to help. The empath closed her eyes, attempting to hone in on Lia’s aura as she prepared for her own soul to take in a wave of fear.

Only, she couldn’t find it. She couldn’t feel Lia at all.

The woman blinked at the body that Kelly had in tow. It didn’t make sense — Lia was right there. Lia was moving. Yet, there was nothing for Giselle to grasp onto. No fear, no anger, no relief, not even indifference. Her extended hand grazed the surface of the water, her fingertips dipping in as if she could get a better connection to Lia that way, but still, nothing. As if the girl didn’t exist.

But she did exist, and she and Kelly had finally splashed their way towards her, close enough to Giselle now to be in arm’s reach. Just as Kelly was about to throw an arm over the side of the boat, Lia kicked hard against him. Her daughter had never been particularly strong, but the force seemed to catch Kelly enough off guard to send him propelling backwards into the boat, losing his grip on the girl. “Lia! Honey? You’re okay! You’re safe!” Giselle called frantically, just managing to get a hand around the girl’s ice-cold wrist. Of course it’d be ice-cold after all that time spent in the water. Lia’s head momentarily went back underwater, and when she resurfaced, the hair that’d been plastered to her face was now neatly slicked back, allowing for the woman to finally meet her daughter’s eye. 

Giselle’s blood ran cold.

It took a lot for an empath to run out of words to describe their emotions, but Giselle had no words to describe how she felt looking at her daughter’s glazed over face. Her skin was a sickly pale shade — a typical symptom of hypothermia, but it was Lia’s eyes that scared her. Her daughter’s brown eyes, usually filled with warmth despite the anger that often filled her soul, were cold and unfocused. “Lia?” Giselle called out again, her hand shifting around the girl’s wrist. 

Her wrist, which had no pulse.

Giselle couldn’t conceal the panic on her face, even with her daughter staring right at her. She searched her own soul for any semblance of the girl, any drop of emotion that Lia was feeling that the empath could cling onto. But again, there was nothing — just the same emptiness that she felt when a victim’s heart ceased to beat. “Honey, I can’t feel anything. Why can’t I feel anything? Brooks! Help me get her into the boat!” she shouted at her colleague who had been recovering from his blow to the chest, desperation threatening to tear Giselle apart. 

As if Lia could sense this — as if Lia had been born the empath that she had always wanted to be — the girl’s gaze softened ever so slightly, her head cocking to the side as she met her mother’s eye once more. “Momma…” she said quietly, eyes alert with recognition for a split second. Giselle reached out with her other hand. This was it; she had her daughter back. She only got a touch on her daughter’s sleeve before Lia kicked back against the boat. The girl yanked her wrist free from Giselle’s hold and the woman fell back as the vessel swayed.

“Lia? Lia! Lia Alden!” In the short time that it had taken Giselle to scramble up off of the deck, the head of jet black hair had already disappeared. “Lia, goddammit!” There was no time to think, nor did she have the capacity to think. Giselle immediately jumped into the water after her baby girl, her body not even registering the shock of the frigid water beyond the dread and adrenaline that coursed through her. “This fucking lifejacket! Brooks, I’m going after her!” She said as she wrestled with the lifejacket buckle, clumsily flailing the vest off of her as she prepared to go under.

—

The fog curled low over the water as Kelly pushed back to the boat, having rolled in while they’d been under. It felt… off, somehow. Suspicious. It settled around Kelly, Giselle, and Lia like a cage. On the shore, they’d think nothing of it. Cliffs, cold water, and shifting air, those were a classic recipe for a low fog, especially as the temperature dropped, especially this close to the Atlantic. Normal. But, hey, if the fog was going to try and kill him today, too, at least the crew on the shore wouldn’t see. Giselle, though… She’d see everything. But what choice did Kelly have? If Lia was something else now (and what, Kelly didn’t know), she could come ashore to seek out her mother. Here, where Kelly could explain, could try and make ‘em both understand, that was safer for everyone. So long as Lia could be reasoned with.

…And Giselle herself would have to do the reasoning. With his mask on and his hands gripping a struggling teenager, Kelly couldn’t speak. It was one stroke forward, three strokes back. As they approached the boat, his mind tried to analyze the risk to Giselle. If Lia was strong in the water, would getting her onto the boat sap her of that strength? The terror on Giselle’s face, in her screams, that’d been real. Whatever was happening to Lia, now, the water had been genuinely dangerous. So, not a shifter. Probably not fae. Undead, maybe? His heart sank. So, Lia might be… Fuck. Even though he wanted to help, Kelly didn’t know shit about the undead. Not beyond the basics. If Lia was out for blood or brains, though, wouldn’t she have already gone for a bite? Why drown him?

Kelly’s got you. You’re alright now. A flicker of hesitation passed Kelly’s heart. What if Giselle couldn’t break through? What if Lia was too far gone? If drowning was the goal, would bringing Lia too close to her mother just doom Giselle, too? The lieutenant was leaning too far out, training abandoned in an effort to physically grab ahold of her daughter. She didn’t recognize the danger. That was supposed to be Kelly’s job, as a ranger. Protect humanity from the monsters, ‘course, but protect humanity from themselves, too. (Though, it was saltwater. How quickly would saltwater start to kill a nixie? Would the death rattle drive ‘em to drowning anything, even if they were nowhere near their own water? It was a desperate theory, trying to avoid the inevitable.)

That distraction got the better of Kelly. As his arm went to the side of the boat (better out than in, even with the risk to Giselle), Lia used his reduced grip to give one intense thrash, throwing herself against Kelly’s chest and smacking his head against the stalled motor. Lia dipped below the surface as Kelly lost his grip. Christ, not when they were so close. He tried to pull her back up, readjust his grip. But that, too, was a mistake. Lia came above the water, and Giselle looked like she’d seen a… well, y’all know the rest. Kelly had horribly, horribly miscalculated.

Feel anything? Now, what the— No time to think about that, not with Lieutenant Alden barking an order. The chain of command was wired into Kelly, and he moved to obey, even with the growing sense that obeying would be another mistake in the growing list. But Lia hadn’t stilled at Giselle’s attempts to reach her. No, if anything, she was struggling more. His grip still wasn’t the tightest, after she’d nearly gotten away. But, then, a miracle happened. Tried to, anyway. Lia went still. Lia recognized Giselle. Giselle had a hand on her sleeve, and Kelly was lifting Lia up, and this story might have an ending other than total tragedy, if— A hand to Lia’s sleeve, Lia shoving at the boat with all her might. Giselle went down, and Kelly lost his grip, breath knocked from him once again. Lia Alden was gone. Kelly’s attention split. Help Giselle, or go after Lia? The choice was obvious. Whatever Lia was now, it wasn’t human. Both his duty as a hunter and his duty as a firefighter demanded he climb into the boat and drag Giselle away from the water.

He moved fast, but grief was faster. Giselle was in the water. Giselle was trying to get her life jacket off, dive down without a mask, send herself into Lia’s grave to revive her. Under the concern, Kelly bristled. This was not the goddamn plan, Alden. This wasn’t a two-person rescue. He’d been given a single clear instruction, and he would follow it. 

Arms went around Giselle’s waist, just as they’d gone around her daughter’s corpse, and Kelly hoisted the woman back onto the waterlogged boat. He tore his mask off, one arm more than enough to hold Giselle tight. “Lieutenant! Goddammit, Giselle. You’re going to get yourself killed.” When that didn’t appear to get through her stubborn head, Kelly switched tactics without hesitating. Feel. That had to mean something. And, well, he’d be doing explaining tonight, no matter what. If she knew a damn thing about the supernatural, maybe— “You can’t feel her,” whatever that meant, “and I can’t sense her. She ain’t—goddammit, stop movin’—she ain’t goin’ to come quietly. Every second you try to jump into the fuckin’ water is another second I have to waste stoppin’ you, ‘stead of lookin’ for her.” Harsh. Too harsh, maybe. But he was right. If Giselle wanted to hold fast to the last strands of hope, Kelly’d help her do that. But she needed to stay put. No arguing.

When he was sure she wouldn’t, Kelly took a deep breath and dove. (What use was a mask when you wouldn’t find your quarry? Lia’d be long gone, and it was all Kelly could do to keep that thought from rising to the front of his mind. This was still a rescue. It had to be, for Giselle’s sake.) Lia could— She had run, not tried to drown her mother. That had to mean something. Something Kelly could latch onto. His mind returned to her eyes, to the flicker between sapience and the grim haze of compulsion. Drowning him hadn’t been intentional, in that… she couldn’t stop herself. No better than a beast—and a beast that, injured and confused, would retreat to safety and security. Somewhere deep in the water. (But she had recognized Giselle.) Kelly had been the threat, not Lia’s mother. If Lia had run, terrified, from a threat, wasn’t it his—

None of this was useful.

Kelly searched for as long as his lungs would allow, mind blank. No Lia, no flickers at the edge of his light. No hand on his back. (Had she been reaching for him for help? What had she been trying to say to him?) He rose to the surface, leaden with the finality. Wherever Lia was now, Kelly wouldn’t find her. Neither would Giselle. He pulled himself onto the boat, not meeting the lieutenant’s eyes. (Coward.) “She’s gone,” he said, voice flat. (Real double meaning there, Kelly.) “Giselle, she don’t want to be found. Not now. I was trained to track down… creatures, my whole life.” The implication that Lia might be a creature hung between ‘em. “Even if you make ‘em dredge all the water, she’ll find a way to hide. Nothin’ to track her with. If you try to go back in, I’ll catch you. You can’t swim faster than me. Ain’t braggin’. I’m not lettin’ you kill yourself, Giselle.” And she would. Kelly could see it etched onto her face, had known it when she’d jumped in. If she had any hope left in her heart, she’d never give up. Kelly had to be cold. If he doused that fire, now, it’d be… better for everyone. (But… Would she give up, really? Far as she knew, Lia was still out there. Would Kelly give up, if he—)

The fog was thick. Thicker than it’d been, even when Kelly’d first surfaced with Lia. Couldn’t see the lights anymore. The two of ‘em were alone. It’d take time to send a second boat, but the crew would. Only a matter of time. What the hell was Giselle thinking? Likely that Kelly was a failure and a dick. Fair enough. But they needed to get their story straight. Fastest way to make Giselle comply was to give up the ghost. He’d danced around it—time to come clean. “We got a few minutes. You got questions. I can’t answer ‘em on the shore. Make it count, Giselle. Whatever you need to… cope, to accept that she’s gone. Ask. I’ll answer.”

—

When Lia was six hours old, Giselle had broken down in the hospital bed just at the sight of her tiny, fragile daughter. What the hell was she doing? Why did she think she could raise a child on her own? Sure, she was great at handling her kindergarten kiddos back in the day, but she just got to do the fun stuff before sending them back home to be raised by real parents. Lost in thought, she had knocked her phone onto the ground and baby Lia had emitted a pang of fear at the clatter. Giselle remembered picking her up in her arms (so tiny, too fragile) and letting out a soothing shush, but, most importantly, she remembered feeling the moment that Lia’s fear dissipated. She remembered feeling relief radiating from her baby daughter’s soul, as if being in her mother’s arms was enough for her to feel safe in this scary world. 

God, how Giselle yearned for a moment like that right now. Anything instead of the cold silence that had shielded Lia’s heart as their gazes met.

Something was wrong with Lia — the water had changed her daughter, but now was not the time to dwell. She had to get her back in the boat first, back in her arms, and then Giselle could start searching for her answers. She treaded the water, inhaling deeply as she prepared to submerge. A pair of arms wrapped around her waist. Of course. Damn firefighters, always trying to look out for people. “Brooks, I’m warning you. Do not stop me,” she said in the stern tone that she reserved for when shit really hit the fan. A lieutenant had to be calm and collected under duress; even a hint of panic in her voice would sow doubt in her team. Right now, she had to show Kelly that she was in the right state of mind, otherwise he would never let her go down there.

But then Kelly was lifting her back into the boat, and Giselle was thrashing against his hold as her daughter had been just moments ago. “I don’t care! I don’t fucking care!” she screamed, all composure immediately going out the window. So what if the water killed her, too? It would be nothing compared to the pain of living in a world without her daughter. “Kelly, you have to let me go back, dammit! I need to go back…fuck.” She winced at his harsh words, mostly because she knew that he was right. He had the gear on, he would be their best bet at getting Lia back. Giselle finally stilled, her body going slack in the puddle that was forming on the floor of the boat. “Go on then. Please,” she said quietly, her voice cracking with the weight of her world in his hands. 

She stayed lying on the ground as Kelly jumped back overboard, unable to muster the strength to get up and watch him. She knew. She knew, but she didn’t dare say it. She’d rather send Kelly back out there one hundred times over than accept it. There had to be an explanation for the lack of emotions — some obscure exception in the way empaths worked that her family had forgotten to teach her about. And the lack of pulse…well, Giselle simply had to have been mistaken. Even the best firefighters made mistakes, right?

There was movement over the side of the boat, and Giselle shot up to get a look at Kelly. He was back, and he was empty-handed. But that didn’t mean anything. She’d simply send him back under again, and if he didn’t want to do it, then she would go. It wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over. Giselle opened her mouth to fight back, only hesitating to speak when a strong wave of Kelly’s emotions washed over her, the other refusing to meet her eye. Frustration, guilt…sincerity. Lia was gone, and he meant it wholeheartedly. 

Kelly’s next words were underlined by a static buzzing in her ears. Why would Lia hide from her? No, it didn’t make sense. Just like the sever in their clairempathetic connection didn’t make sense, nor did Lia’s lack of pulse. She was moving. Giselle had watched her move. “Do not call my daughter a fucking creature,” she snapped suddenly, the word piercing like ice in her heart. There were certainly creatures out there; that was the charm of Wicked’s Rest. Giselle was far from an expert, but she had learned about her fair share of them during her years in service — the tricky fae, the unpredictable shifters, the resentful undead who she could never quite feel.

No, no, no. Lia wasn’t. She couldn’t.

“Sorry,” she mumbled to Kelly as he finally settled into the boat, the two sitting across from each other, both with distant looks on their faces. He was right, again. (Screw firefighters and their logic in the face of crisis.) They only had a few minutes to get their story straight, and even if Giselle had no clue where to begin, she knew that she couldn’t tell the team the truth. At least, not yet. If Lia really was…dead, but not, it’d only put her in more danger to expose her outright. Giselle didn’t need to give her daughter another reason to hide from the world, to hide from her.

“You say you’re trained to track these…things. Part of the firefighting training back where you’re from? Or something…else?” She tried making the connections in her head. There were people in town trained to handle the real threats, threats that emergency services couldn’t handle on their own. She wasn’t sure if she could fathom Kelly being among them, but if he was inferring that he was, then she needed to squeeze every ounce of information out of him. “What was wrong with her, Kelly? She was moving. She spoke. I didn’t feel a pulse. I didn’t feel anything. Why did you let her go? You should’ve let me g—” Giselle involuntarily choked out a sob, the realisation threatening to crash into her. No, not until she was alone. Not in front of her colleagues. 

She clenched her jaw as if to stuff it all back down. Her own heart was numb, but Kelly’s emotions radiated strongly. Guilt. So much guilt, even if he was trying his best to stuff it down too. “It’s not your fault,” she said without thinking, her empathic instinct to fix, fix, fix taking over. Not that there seemed to be any point in hiding things from Kelly — he could have the answers that Giselle so desperately needed. “It’s not your fault. She was fading in and out since the truck got here. I stopped feeling her before you even got in the water. I can sense these things. Emotions. You’re full of guilt right now. I feel emotions. From the living. Kelly, please tell me Lia isn’t…”

—

Giselle’s flash of anger was unsurprising, but… unproductive. Snapping at him wasn’t going to bring Lia back and it wasn’t going to make Giselle’s new reality any damn easier. But it wasn’t the first time a grieving parent had gone off on him, and it wouldn’t be the last. “That’s not—” what I meant, Kelly didn’t finish. Hadn’t he? Ultimately, it was a jumpstart, to help Giselle start grieving her daughter, and he wasn’t about to apologize for it. It was dehumanizing, ‘course, but that was the point. Lia was no longer human. “I could have chosen my words more carefully,” he said, instead, taking a deep breath, not quite an acknowledgment of any wrongdoing. His expression, though, flickered when she apologized to him. “No need for that. If someone called Flip a creature, I’d’ve reacted the same way, whether it was true or not.” That implication was more than he’d wanted to give, and more than he had time to explain, but that was how folks did this, right? Relate?

Kelly let out a dry laugh. “Been doin’ it since birth. Firefightin’ came later.” He turned away from Giselle, to stare into the fog. It held no answers, so it seemed Kelly’d have to supply ‘em. He did offer, after all. “Not… like her, exactly.” Giselle seemed to know enough, but Kelly wasn’t keen on giving a whole lesson on the differences between hunters tonight. Just enough to make her believe he wasn’t fully talking out of his ass. Calm had settled over him. Whatever emotions he might feel about this, they needed to be tamped down. If Giselle was going to feel, loudly, Kelly didn’t have the right to occupy the same space. He’d stow it. Unpack it, later, without a witness, where he could try to name it. “I’m trained to do a lot more than just track, Giselle. Let’s keep the focus on Lia, alright?” Unfortunately for the both of ‘em, that was where Kelly came up short. As he was trying to think of how to phrase his explanation, she asked questions. Those, he could answer.

“She was. She did. You didn’t,” Kelly answered, keeping it brief. Knowing that was hardly an answer, he tried again. It was tricky. Guesswork would only make this worse. The lack of pulse all but confirmed it. Instead, he answered the one that relied solely on him and his actions. If he squinted, looked at it through a certain light, it was still giving a report to his superior. “I let her go, ‘cause I…” She’d see through a lie, he figured. “I thought I might make it worse, if I gave chase. There was a second where it seemed like you were gettin’ through to her. But I was unfamiliar to her, and I was stoppin’ her from movin’ and I think she was runnin’ off instincts. Fear.” He paused, waiting for Giselle to control her sob. If they had more time, he could’ve allowed her to let it all out. But they didn’t, and they both knew that. 

So, Kelly kept going, “I shouldn’t have let you go in. Without more information, there was every chance you would’ve died, too. Part of my… duty is to keep humans safe. I hear a change like hers can be… disorientin’, and that flicker we saw, it could’ve been just that. And even if it wasn’t, if she did come back to herself, or does, she might… remember. If she did somethin’ to you. Hurt you, or…” Another implication, another weakness on Kelly’s part, unable to deliver the truth in as concrete terms as possible. Giselle should be afraid of Lia, of what she could do. He should tell her that the girl had tried to drown him. Put the fear of the undead into her. He couldn’t—another way that he was failing her. “I didn’t want to put her through that. That’d be cruel.” If she did kill somebody, better it be a relative stranger, a hunter with an expiration date, and not her own flesh and blood.

Giselle’s reassurances landed like ice water, chilling Kelly even further. “Okay,” he said, ‘cause he really, really needed to be the one to maintain their goddamn composure here. It wasn’t kindness to tell a hunter they hadn’t failed, especially when they so concretely had. Accepting the fault, the blame, was part of improving. Kelly could carry that. Would carry that. “Empath. Got it. Don’t know much about y’all, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t waste time askin’.” There was a part of him that wanted to ask her to stop that, please, but he doubted she could shut it off, even if she wanted to. If it was anything like Kelly’s senses, it was so instinctual, so much a part of how they interacted with the world, that being without it would be more dangerous than anything she could glean from Kelly’s heart. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m not lyin’, or tryin’ to spare you. I’d need to do some diggin’ to give you a straight answer. But, no, she ain’t… alive anymore.” I’m sorry. It hovered at the edge of his tongue. Plenty he could be apologizin’ for.

“If you swear to me that you won’t go off and try to chase her down on your own, I…” Kelly started, the offer rolling off his tongue before he could stop. Giselle knew just enough to be dangerous, to herself and to Lia. Kelly didn’t know how the girl fed. “I promise I’ll help you figure it out.” Giselle might not know how significant that promise was, but Kelly felt it settle in his bones like he was being bound. It was stupid, reckless, impulsive. You couldn’t save the goddamn world. It was just one girl, and he should be able to turn it off, and he should warn a slayer, and he—

He should do a lot of things. But he wouldn’t. What Kelly would do, what he only ever tried to do, was help. Learn from this.

“Time’s almost up. You know we can’t tell ‘em the truth. Best we could say is that we didn’t find her. It’ll buy us some time. That way, if she…” Kelly didn’t want to give the poor woman false hope. “If you want Lia to have any chance at all, you’re gonna have to lie, over and over again. It’ll be lonely, and it’ll be isolatin’, and folks are going to look at you like somethin’ awful has happened, ‘cause it has.” The fog was beginning to clear. “Make your choice, Giselle.”

—

Giselle hated getting angry. Too destructive, too unproductive. She hated feeling it in others (Lia) and she hated being on the receiving end of it (Lia). A pang of guilt — her own guilt, buried amongst Kelly’s — ran through her once the words left her mouth, and she uttered the best apology she could muster despite knowing Kelly wouldn’t expect one from her. At least, not right now, when she wasn’t in the right state of mind. (Would she ever be after tonight?)

At the mention of Flip, Giselle pressed her palms firmly onto her eyes, as if that’d help contain the tears. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fucking fair. Did Kelly know how lucky he was that he’d be able to go home and hug his baby tonight? Now that wasn’t fair — of course he did, otherwise his guilt wouldn’t be stirring below the surface waiting for the right time to explode. Though the guilt wavered when he spoke his next words, “whether it was true or not.” Hesitation, conflict, secrecy — there was something there, but Giselle didn’t have the energy to unpack it right now. She made a mental note to bring it up whenever she and Kelly had their inevitable talk about tonight, because she knew they’d have to do it. They would have to talk and it was going to be awkward and uncomfortable but they had to, both for her sake and for his.

Despite being the one to ask the questions, Giselle could hardly focus on the answers that Kelly was giving. His voice echoed through her ringing ears, only a few key words managing to get through to her numb brain. “Since birth.” A hunter. “Empaths.” He knew. “Do some diggin’.” He knew things. “Ain’t alive.” Lia was dead. 

The woman dug her fingernails into the loose material of her slacks, scoffing at the beginnings of Kelly’s proposal. What bullshit. Of course she was going to go and chase Lia down. What kind of a mother would she be if she didn’t? But if Kelly was who he said he was, if he knew other people like him, then his help could be huge. Giselle settled herself in Kelly’s aura. Uncertainty, sincerity, the tiniest flicker of hope. He wanted to help her, and there was a small but real chance that he could. “You know we’re taught not to make promises that we can’t keep, right?” she said, almost a hint of snark to her tone. But it was the only bit of hope that she could hold onto for now, so she nodded, sliding further down into her seat with a shaky sigh.

Her eyes shifted to the fried radio sitting in a puddle of water at the bottom of the boat. Time was running out. Time ran out for Lia. But if what Kelly was saying was true and there was even the slightest chance, then Giselle had to take it. Taking parts of others’ pain was her life’s purpose; she would be able to handle her own if it meant getting her baby back. “Brooks, start the boat back up.”

They rode back to shore in complete silence — what more was there to say? They had failed. Giselle didn’t like using that word when she knew that her firefighters had done everything that they could, but she had failed. Not just as a firefighter, but as a mother. How was she going to tell her parents that she had failed to save their granddaughter? What was she going to tell Lia’s dad when Lia was never really his daughter to begin with? How could she plan a funeral when she was still holding onto the sliver of hope that she could have her baby back?

The reality was choking Giselle, the static buzzing in her ear so loud that she didn’t even hear them dock. The boat was immediately surrounded, people tugging her in one direction and Kelly in the other. “Lieutenant! Take this!” Caulfield said as he tried to put a thermal blanket around her shoulders. “Lieutenant, let me check you for injuries.” Chen scrambled to her side. Giselle shrugged them both off, turning on her heels back to the direction of the water. “Just give me a damn second,” she muttered, neither of them daring to move despite their verbal protests. “Giselle,” a third voice called. The woman’s steps faltered at his, turning just enough so she could catch a glimpse of her captain. “Please, Tom. Just give me a second.” The older man pursed his lips, letting out a heavy sigh before nodding.

She could hear the whispering as she walked towards the water. Even worse, she could feel her team’s pity, their sorrow, their unease at what to do now. How were they going to handle this? How were they going to handle her? She wasn’t Lieutenant Alden anymore; she was the grieving mother, and Giselle was going to be reminded of that every damn day that she came into work and sensed everyone’s unspoken condolences constricting her lungs.

The empath let out a guttural scream, the weight of the night finally collapsing onto her. Someone dropped a flashlight behind her, but Giselle didn’t care. She screamed and screamed and screamed until her throat went hoarse, until there was no more air in her lungs. It echoed across the water, now clear of any fog, reaching even the darkest corners of the night. Perhaps it’d be loud enough for Lia to hear, wherever she was. Maybe a mother’s cry could wake them both up from this nightmare.

When her lungs finally had no more to give, Giselle fell to her knees. Just one more try. The empath closed her eyes, putting her hand on the shore and letting the water lap at her fingertips. She searched for any sign of Lia to grasp onto. Her daughter’s fear, her anger, her rage — Giselle would take anything at this point. Lia, Lia, Lia, she repeated in her head, as if coaxing her daughter out of the water. Seconds passed, and the hole in her heart only grew wider with each breath.

Nothing.