It has been a few weeks since Fallon came back to life, nearly halfway to the number of days she lay dead. Her whole life is permeated by death, from her existence in a church basement to the scars on her torso. Corrin used to say her freckles were like little suns, stars, burning in the distance. The stab wounds look like they are shooting through her pale skin, and she tries to picture them as burning particles in the faraway night sky. It is helpful to think of it as not close.

Now, she is as silent as she was days ago, faced with a woman she doesn't recognize in the sanctity of their church basement, but a woman who seems to recognize Este.

"We're married now," the stranger says. "Your marriage was annulled after you ran away."

Este grins, it rising from cheek to cheek, "is that what he told you?"

The woman stiffens. Este cannot tell what specifically has unsettled the woman, but she doesn't mind the ambiguity. She stares at Kaylee Wood-Rodwell, the blonde woman who fucked her husband while Este was still alive.

Fallon stands up. She is still holding the guitar, and she looks around at them as she does, "I think I'll just give you both some space."

Guitar still in hand, Fallon heads to the stairs. Each step feels too slow. Her heart starts to race. Once she gets to the stairs, she bolts up. Only as her arms pump does she realize she is holding the guitar, which she slams into her leg haphazardly. She bites on her tongue to contain her groan. At the top of the stairs she drops the guitar. Of course, she isn't wearing shoes, or a coat either. She hurries into a pew where she sits and breathes.

Kaylee Wood-Roswell squares her shoulders, "she's skittish."

"I think she just finds unexpected company rude," Este runs her tongue over her teeth before she smiles. "I made stirfry. Would you like a martini?"

Este turns around, sauntering into the kitchen. She listens for Kaylee's footsteps. They don't approach. So, Este stands in the kitchen, beginning to make a martini.

"Aren't you curious how I found you?" she asks.

Este shrugs, "I'll be honest, Kaylee. I'm not particularly concerned with your experience."

She turns around. Kaylee steps in closer, hanging in the doorway.

"A bunch of stores saw you buying scarves when I asked about the gifts," Kaylee says. "The church basement has been flooded for a strange amount of time, since just about the minute you dropped off your first scarf. I just knew."

"A real Velma, aren't you?" Este begins to curl into a grin.

"I understand you aren't happy with Jayce, but stalking him isn't proving anything," Kaylee's voice is steady, sturdy.

Este smiles, strides over to Kaylee with a martini glass. Kaylee takes the glass, holding it in her hand. Este and her clink the cups together, the sound lower than a proper martini glass would be.

"I know you don't believe whatever he's told you about me," Este says. "After all, you didn't come here with him. I don't think he even knows you've found me."

Kaylee's face is hard, steely. She takes her martini glass, "I think I'd just like to hear your version of events."

~~~

Barry and Lydia have sat on the ground opposite each other in the church closet. Barry has yet to button up their shirt completely, but Lydia is put together again. Barry's cheeks are flushed, their eyes wet, and they can't stop the stupid grin that barely hangs on their face. They've stopped panting at least. Lydia looks untouched.

She was made for opera, Barry supposes. Lydia is the kind of woman who could have been dead hundreds of years and not ten.

Lydia doesn't even blush at their staring. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her, just as Barry had minutes ago. The skin of her cheek feels soft. As if it's recently been through a mud peel, even more recently than her body was dug up from within the dirt.

"I'm glad I've gotten to do something with you for the first time," she looks at them from behind her batting eyelashes. She traces her collarbone with her finger, skin creamy and damp, the smell of sweat on herself stronger than the lingering shampoo in her hair.

Barry chuckles, "you think we haven't had sex in a closet before?"

"I think we haven't had sex in a church before."

Barry laughs now, actually, and the momentary crack in their hardened face makes Lydia smile. She isn't sure if Barry was always so distant and mysterious. For a second, she wonders if she is meeting the Barry that she knew long ago.

She doesn't know how their relationship is opposite. It began with Lydia, closed and perfect and Barry giving their heart to her. Now, it is Barry turns to be hidden while Lydia takes and takes and takes parts of herself and serves them to him. They both enjoy pearls and sacrifices. The art of the opera.

~~~

On their walk home, Clare and Kaia are quiet. It's almost unnerving for Clare. Kaia walks faster than her, and when Clare matches pace Kaia races off even faster. There is a game they are playing together, Clare isn't sure how it started. She slows down when Kaia is a step away from jogging to beat her.

"Do you..." Clare trails off.

Kaia couldn't imagine her in an interrogation room, and she's right. Clare loves to ask questions. There are millions of things she doesn't know. Unfortunately, Clare doesn't think she can ask a question of someone who clearly doesn't want to answer.

Then, Kaia turns around. She smiles, beaming. Kaia only knows how to be bright. Currently, she is trying her best to keep the light a soft yellow glow. Something electric, hidden in a sconce on a wall that no one can touch. Any more orange and she'll become a candle, and candles aren't very bright on their own. No, she cannot be a candle. She can only be a roaring forest fire.

This town is surrounded by too many trees.

"What?" Kaia asks.

Clare frowns at the smile, then recovers, "sorry, you seemed upset."

"No need to worry about me," Kaia laughs.

Of course, Clare doesn't join in, "I mean... well I don't need to do much of anything these days. I guess... well, I'm trying to say I want to worry. Maybe I'd like to, even."

Kaia stares at her. Beautiful Clare. Dead Clare. They showered recently, and so her hair has bouncy curls again, ones she hasn't brushed through and pinned out of her face for convenience. The kind of woman Kaia sees and has troubled understanding why she's so quiet.

Wind blows through Kaia's hair. It's cold enough that she could imagine snow beginning to fall from it. Kaia pulls a strand away from her mouth. She supposes there aren't many ways to get warm besides burning.

"You'd like to worry about me?" Kaia asks. "Maybe tell some of your fucking cop friends they should've worried about the dead body they found. Tell them I'm Kaia Jones, not Jane Doe number three-hundred and sixty fucking seven!"

Clare flinches. Kaia's fists tighten.

"You hear gunshots?" Kaia laughs, "I taste my ex-girlfriend's lipgloss. I hear her damn name. All I feel is the rage I felt in that moment. I thought I had killed her for so long, you know? Turns out, I think she might have killed me!"

"Kaia..." Clare trails off. They learned how to break the news of dead loved ones to someone. Clare has told the families that their spouses, their children, aren't coming home because they got behind the wheel after a bottle too many. All the training seems to have slipped away. Not that it would matter. Kaia is the one who died here.

"You should've looked harder!" Kaia screams. Her face hurts from her hatred. "You should have fucking looked harder!"

Then, Kaia bursts out into a run. Like all her heat has made her body a kettle, and the hot steam bursts out in a scream.

Clare watches her run away. There is nothing good to say. Even if there was, Clare knows she wouldn't be able to find it despite all her experience sleuthing. If she did find it, she wouldn't be able to say it. Her self-hatred burns her too.

~~~

It has been a few weeks since Fallon came back to life, and in all that time, she has not run. Her body was not in rigor mortis but it should have been. Everything was at a stop. Her days felt slow, her nights slower. The most Fallon did was dance with a woman who was not the one she wanted to marry.

Now, she runs. Fallon bursts into the supply closet, nearly toppling over onto Barry and Lydia. They both stare at her, as she ignores them, digging into one of the bins and then another. She pulls out shoes. They are too small for her feet, but she throws them on anyway.

At first, Fallon didn't know what to do besides sit. Inertia is a hardthing to conquer. Corrin used to have artistic blocks, and Fallon never quiteunderstood them. She liked playing music more than writing it anyway. Herebefore her, there is no staff, no notes, no director standing before her. Ittakes two hours of waiting for the woman to leave before Fallon truly moves. 

"Going somewhere?" Barry asks.

"No time," Fallon only offers. "We need to get out of here."

Other than Barry and Lydia, Fallon doesn't know where most people are. They aren't friends, certainly not family, and they are barely even roommates most days. Leo and Nico were at the grocery store, and having lived in Chelster and not just shambled through it after she died, Fallon knows where that is and hopefully what route they have taken.

She doesn't wait for them to get up, but instead she keeps running. Some part of Fallon feels wrong for leaving Lydia with Barry or leaving Barry with anyone for that matter. Instead, of thinking about it, Fallon runs and runs through the dark streets. Far away, she can hear a car driving. She can hear her own breath huffing, the sound of the shoes that are squeezing her feet hitting the concrete road. At night, Chelster is quiet.

Fallon is loud.

Unlike Fallon, Barry and Lydia have not run far away. The two have rounded the corner from the church, barely able to see her disappear between each streetlight. Barry lounges on the ground, drinking in the cool evening. The sweat on his skin chills in the cold, and somehow the October night air is peaceful.

Lydia looks at him. Even after all of this, she doesn't recognize him. Some part of her must have expected it unbeknownst to the rest of her, since she is so surprised.

Nearing closer to Fallon, Nico and Leo wait at the side of the road. It's been two hours since they stopped walking, and now it is nearly three in the morning, but Nico hasn't kept going. It's cold enough that there perishables will be fine. Leo hasn't complained. He's exhausted, certainly, but Nico tried to walk again and Leo thinks the weight of the grocery bag almost dislocated their shoulder.

Nico sees Fallon's red hair under a streetlight far away. They recognize her silhouette before her face comes into view. After the sight, come her footsteps, pounding forward harder and harder.

Though Leo hasn't had many interactions with anyone given the nature of his scarred face, he thinks he knows them well enough. Fallon is pretty still. She lounges in bed, wanders over with Nico to the library. He doesn't think she has ever moved as fast as she is now.

Leo puts the groceries down on the ground, "watch them."

Then, he sprints away. He is aware that his body doesn't work the way it used to function. He didn't run out of the factory but he walked. Leo thinks back to his conversation with Ambrose, about what it was he felt in the place he died. Leo wasn't able to articulate what it felt like, only what it was.

Now, sprinting toward Fallon, his legs aching, he knows what he feels well, and so he knows what he felt then. Now, he feels panic. A fear of what is going to happen, what he doesn't know. It was a similar nervousness then, only it was a fear of what he doesn't know, a fear of what did happen.

Finally, Leo catches up to Fallon.

She stops, grips her knees, breathing in deeply.

Nico watches them. If the streets weren't so quiet, they would scream out Fallon's name. Nico misses quiet walks home from bars with Kye. They miss streets empty, after all the drunks have wandered home too. Laughter loud and no one could complain about it because they lived in apartments in a city. There are no buildings towering above any of their heads to muffle the sound of shouts. People might actually look out of their windows if they heard a scream.

"Somebody," Fallon manages, huffing. "Somebody's found Este. Somebody who knows she's dead."

Fallon tips forward just slightly, and instinctively, Leo leans into her. Her shoulder hits his. Leo braces his knees as Fallon balances herself. It's embarrassing, how dizzy she is. Fallon cannot tell if she'd rather it be the whirl of the moment or her constant lethargy which causes it.

"Don't run," Leo instructs. He guides Fallon to the ground, where she sits. He helps her tuck her head between her knees. "I'm going to see what's happening. Tell Nico when he gets here to wait with you until you're good to come back to the church. Tell him to wait behind the church outside of the sight of the parking lot until I give him all the all-clear. Me specifically."

Fallon nods her head.

Then, Leo stands. He waves over Nico, and starts to run.

Nico sighs, grabbing as much of the groceries as they can. Damn Leo. Kye would've loved him.

~~~

Against his better judgement, Ajay has taken off his hooded coat. He has it tied around his waist. He gouges into Audrey's grave. His arms move above his head, throwing down over and over again. Once more, he feels like a military man, obeying orders, using all his body weight to do a task, quieting his brain. Instead of thinking about the thing they will find in the casket, he thinks about each muscle in his body. It aches more in his legs. The force of his quads and hamstrings bending him up and down so he can dig into the deep hole. The strength of his core.

Ambrose pushes himself so hard he might puke. He tries to race as fast as Ajay. He has to get in there. He has to see what has become of their earthly bodies. Ambrose doesn't imagine it's there anymore. Like Jesus, Audrey as a daughter of God who has slipped out of their casket. He wants it to be. He remembers lying in a casket as a child. He knows where he ought to be.

Unlike the others, Eva is slow. She does the most to break the dirt, mostly stabbing below, while the others scoop it out. Eva was never made for work. She whistles to herself, and Audrey has stopped hissing at Eva to shut it.

Instead, Audrey stands above them, leering down. Only in the last ten minutes have the others needed to jump in the hole. Audrey peers down every thirty seconds, spending most of their time scanning the grounds. At night, the graveyard is dark. They wouldn't see anyone coming anyway. So, Audrey closes their eyes to tune everything out but the sounds.

Eva strikes down. The shovel thunks into something.

Audrey opens their eyes. The others stare down at the dirt and then up at Audrey, waiting.

"Get it out."

There won't be enough room for all of them to crowd together and open the coffin. Eva gets boosted out of the pit by Ajay. He then pulls himself up, grunting on the way. Ambrose finishes moving the dirt out of the way. Audrey kneels down to get closer, her notebook flipped open, her pen uncapped and millimetres from the page.

"What do you expect to find?" Ajay pants out the question.

"The truth," Audrey says.

Ajay lungs heave and his shoulders follow suit.

"A body or no body," Audrey exclaims.

Ambrose uncovers the lid. He pries it open, grunting as he does. As it opens, he has to dig his feet into the sides of the dirt wall to avoid stepping in the clear closet.

Audrey's body still has some flesh wrapped around the bones, although the colour is difficult to discern in the low light. Her hair is there too, likely the same colour as what is on her head. An outfit Audrey has never worn before covers much of the bones. It is strange for the Audrey that might be alive to look at the body that is certainly dead. The corpse lacks her wide set eyes and angular features. It doesn't look still.

"Fuck," Ajay backs away at the smell.

Eva pinches her nose, but peers down and looks at the body. She glances at Audrey, laughing.

"She's got your curves," Eva laughs. Eva glances at Ambrose. "Do you think she's prettier than me?"

Ambrose stares at the bones. He's never seen a human in this state of decay. He had pictured it dirtier. More soil in the casket, bugs, worms. He hadn't pictured a white bed with a body laying on it. Honestly, he hadn't pictured a body at all. He had imagined a God.

Audrey stands up properly. They twist their neck, the one on their semi-living body anyway, to the side.

"No use covering it," Audrey points out. "The groundskeeper will know we robbed the grave when the grass isn't there."

Ajay looks at the pile of grass they had kept in tact, in large squares. He thinks it would work. After all, not many other people will be expecting a grave robbery.

"We can't," Ajay says.

Audrey rolls up their sleeve, revealing a cheap watch she bought at. They dug the grave in under three hours, quick time for inexperienced diggers. Burying it will take less time, certainly, but it's nearly three in the morning, and every second they stay is a second to long.

"Fine," Audrey says. "Ambrose and I will take the body back. You and Eva can dig it closed."

"Take the body back?" Ajay demands. "Are you crazy?"

Audrey shrugs, "does it matter?"

~~~

After drinking three more martinis and dining together at their cheap plastic foldable tables, Este finishes telling Kaylee what she knows and what she believes to be true. Kaylee looks up Fallon's name, the only real proof Este has at all, the only name Este revealed to her of the dead. Kaylee stares down at her screen.

"So, you're haunting him," Kaylee decides.

Este nods, "not much else to do."

Kaylee laughs. Este is surprised that the sound is lovely. "I'm sure a woman like you has better things to do."

~~~~~

Okay, there we go. I feel like we are getting closer to the halfway mark, which feels crazy. I hope to finish this before October, but really I should hope to finish this at all. Things are getting messy now!