1 - 20 of 32 Works by h0ldthiscat
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“I just thought someone of your caliber wouldn’t have to resort to terrorizing my crew,” Rio says once she remembers how to speak.
Agatha’s eyes flit up to her in the mirror, like she’s impressed, like she didn’t expect Rio to recover so quickly. “You’re very good at your job,” Agatha says with a shrug of her shoulder.
“Thank you.” Rio tries to calm the pounding of her heart. “So are you.”
Agatha extends her arms up grandly with a flourish. “And yet here we both are, doing summerstock in the Berkshires.”
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Agatha scoffs, exasperated. “What’s happening here?”
“I’m attracted to you,” Rio says, monotone. “Do you really find that so hard to believe?”
“You stole my identity!” Agatha says, loud enough that the couple at the next table over turns to look at them. “Mind your own business!” Agatha snaps at them.
Rio tries to hide a laugh but fails, her head dipping forward and her long lashes brushing her cheeks. Agatha’s stomach does backflips.
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Or: Rio steals Agatha's identity and then falls in love with her. Agatha tries her damnedest not to fall in love back.
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After three years on a private investigator’s schedule she can’t remember the last time she was conscious and vertical before 10am unless she’d still been up from the night before. But there aren’t a lot of options for disbarred lawyers turned PIs so here she is, about to knock on an office door with a nameplate outside that makes her stomach flip.
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At the Albuquerque airport, final bags packed, you don’t know the woman in the mirror, the lines around her eyes and the pallor in her cheeks. You don’t think you’ll know her any better thousands of miles away but it’s worth a shot.
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He usually has no problem with her taking the lead but tonight he’s quiet, moving slowly with her but in a way that tells her he wants something different.
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A year ago a lot of things would have been unthinkable.
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There is no return address, but Elizabeth knows who it’s from. Only one person knows she’s here.
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She rests her cheek on top of Susie’s head and they sit like that until the fire is just embers crackling in the darkness, whispering voices that haunt her in the place between dreams and waking, ghosts that say, careful, Nadezhda.
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She reaches for another slice of pizza. “And what about you? Where do you see yourself at HHM in three years?”
Now is as good a moment as any, he figures.
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She gets herself another drink and settles back down beside him, her skin humming again, alive with the sparkling energy she’d had out on the balcony, the peculiar sadness they share, that’s drawn them together since the beginning.
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“But?” He swallows.
She shakes her head, blonde hair shifting back and forth over her shoulder. “No but.”
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With Kim, it always happens all at once.
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“It’s okay,” she says quietly, like she can tell he’s afraid he’ll break her.
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He’s absolutely going to say something about the outfit. Part of her is embarrassed, but she’s too tired to care. So it comes as no surprise when the first thing out of his mouth is: “I have a pretty active imagination but, I gotta say, this is something even I couldn’t dream up.”
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Her hair is still pulled back in a ponytail and for an instant they are twenty-two again, her expression filled with the same fear and longing as the moment they met.
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She has his memory and it sneaks up on her sometimes, his presence and his absence a constant refrain.
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“Should we--do something? Celebrate?” Philip asks. He keeps his eyes on his newspaper, feigning disinterest. “The first year is the hardest, that’s what they told us.”
“They never told me that,” she says, puzzled.
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Her voice comes from beside him in the inky darkness. “My last night in Smolensk I slept in my mother’s bed like a child.”
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Don’t think about him as much as you used to. Recall less and less the way his tiny fingers seemed curved in a perpetual half-fist, ready to close around anything that came into his path.
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It’s nearing rush hour and the November sky is growing dusky pink around the edges, making the clouds almost glow. They’ll be driving directly into the sun heading down the parkway, she thinks grumpily.