Chapter Text
Liz's eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, yet her thoughts spun in restless circles. A storm of shadows and uncertainty that refused to still.
She lay alone in her dimly lit bedroom, the silence of the house wrapping around her like a shroud. Bill was not there, his side of the bed untouched, the echoes of their earlier conversation lingering in the air.
Despite the softness of her pillow, sleep refused to come easily. Her mind was a tangle of doubt and disquiet, her body tense beneath the covers.
The ceiling blurred and shifted as her eyelids grew heavier, until finally, the dark claimed her.
A faint shimmer of light flickered at the edge of her perception. Soft, flickering like a dying star and then, silence.
In the liminal space between sleep and wakefulness, she found herself standing in a vast, endless expanse. The sky above shimmered with swirling nebulae, colors bleeding into one another in impossible patterns.
The ground beneath her was a surface of shimmering, translucent crystal, reflecting the cosmic dance overhead.
There was no sense of time here—only a strange, weightless stillness that pressed against her mind.
And then, a figure materialized, stepping from the shadows like a jest in the fabric of reality.
Loki.
He grinned, his eyes mischievous and sharp, a streak of gold caught in the flickering light. His presence was playful, yet beneath that levity lurked something darker — an unsettling undercurrent that made her skin crawl.
« Well, well » Loki mused, voice smooth and teasing, « look at you, drifting into my little playground. You’re quite the mess, aren’t you ? »
Lyra frowned, instinctively reaching out as if to grasp some anchor in the chaos.
"Where…what is this ? Where am I ?"
He tilted his head, the grin widening.
« Ah, asking questions already ? That’s adorable. But questions aren’t always the answer here.»
He paced slowly, like a cat inspecting its domain, eyes glinting with amusement.
Loki’s expression grew suddenly serious, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. His voice was low, almost hushed, carrying a weight that made her heart tighten.
« Lyra. You’re here because you’re special. More than you realize. » he murmured, each word deliberate and measured.
« Your powers, your truths. They’re fragile threads right now, hanging by a whisper. And me ? I’m just here to make sure you don’t forget who you are. »
He paused, a moment passed and then flicker of a smile creeping onto his face.
With a sudden burst of laughter that echoed through the vast expanse, he threw his head back and cackled.
« Just kidding. » Loki said, voice lightening again. « You have nothing special. I sent you here just to see if it’d be worth it and if you'd do anything interesting. I’m so excited to see what you’ll do. Promise you won’t make it boring okay ? »
He shifted his gaze, eyes playful now but with a flicker of something more predatory. His eyes flicked down to her belly, and his grin widened.
« And your daughter. Oh your daughter » he said softly, almost admiringly, « she’ll be different. She’s got the potential to become something new — something beyond what you can imagine. And I’m thrilled to see what’s going to happen when that little spark ignites. »
A cold wave of worry washed over Liz at his words, her stomach tightening as her mind raced.
Loki leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief as he finished,
« We’ll see how she grows. And I’ll be watching closely. »
His playful attitude returned in an instant, a grin stretching across his face as he backed away, disappearing into the shadows again.
« Well, I think I’ve had my fun. » he said with a mock sigh. « Now, sleep tight, my messiah. Your journey’s just beginning. »
Her brow furrowed.
"Messiah ? I don’t understand."
Suddenly, his grin faltered just slightly, a flicker of something darker passing through his eyes.
« Remember, the universe watches. And it’s not always kind to those who forget their place. »
Before she could respond, the dreamscape wavered—colors bleeding, the ground cracking like glass.
Loki’s figure dissolved into shadows, his voice echoing as if from a distant corridor.
Liz’s eyes snapped open, her breath ragged, the echo of Loki’s cryptic words lingering like a shadow at the edge of her mind.
She sat up slowly, her bedroom once again quiet and familiar—blankets tangled around her, the soft glow of dawn creeping through the curtains.
The house was still, silent except for the gentle hum of morning. Bill was nowhere to be found.
She felt it then—an unsettling mix of clarity and confusion, as if a new piece of her had been unlocked or lost.
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The doorbell rang, slicing through the silence like a blade.
Her heart lurched, and she left the bed, each step on the wooden floor echoing with the ghost of Loki’s voice still clinging to my skin—whispering promises she couldn’t quite remember, shadows she couldn’t quite escape.
When Liz opened the door, Miranda Gilbert stood beneath the porch light, her coat draped perfectly over her shoulders, every inch the picture of composure. Yet, there was a flicker in her eyes — hesitation.
She felt it too. Something was off.
" Hi Liz !" she murmured her smile dropping a bit and looking unsure.
The soft lavender scent she always wore didn’t match the storm rising in me.
Miranda Gilbert and Elisabeth Forbes were friends, close friends.
Maybe that’s why she was reacting this way. By just looking at me, she realized I wasn’t who I seemed to be.
I hesitated a moment, watching her carefully, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp, trying to read beneath the surface.
" Miranda. It’s been a while."
I said softly, voice barely above a whisper. I reached out briefly, a gesture of welcome, but my hand trembled slightly.
She stepped inside, glancing around the dimly lit room, her gaze lingering on the shadows flickering along the walls.
Her brow furrowed slightly, as if sensing the tension that hung thick in the air.
"You seem…tired." she observed, her voice gentle but concerned, as she loosened her coat and draped it over the back of the chair.
Her eyes flicked back to mine, searching, perceptive.
"Are you sleeping, eating well ? I now being the sheriff is not easy. Or…is it something else ?"
I shrugged, trying to mask the storm inside me.
"I guess I’ve just been busy. Stress, you know." The words sounded hollow even in my own ears.
She moved across the room, perching on the edge of the couch, her fingers brushing the fabric as if to anchor herself.
The lamp nearby threw golden circles on the floor ; dust motes danced in its light like they were celebrating a fragile promise.
"Grayson told me yesterday that… He said you’re expecting."
The world tilted.
I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the dull beat of my heart overlapping with another rhythm—deeper, unfamiliar, and echoing like distant thunder within me.
She paused, studying my face, then offered a small, uncertain smile.
"That’s… really good news. I’m happy for you."
I managed a faint smile in return, but inside, my mind was racing. Something about her tone, her eyes — perhaps the way she looked at me — felt different, envious maybe.
A flicker of something unspoken, a shadow passing behind her gaze.
"We’re expecting too." she added softly, her voice carrying a warmth that tried to pierce my fog. "I’m very excited. It’s been a long time coming."
Her smile widened, eyes shining with genuine happiness. But I saw beneath it — the flicker of doubt, the flicker of fear she was trying to hide.
Before I could respond, the room seemed to shift. The air grew heavier, and a sudden, violent flash of memory burst forth.
The scene unfolded like a dream.
A porcelain bassinet, trimmed with white ruffles, sat beside a sunlit window. The air smelled like fresh linens and lemon blossoms—clean, sweet, pure.
Isobel, John Gilbert’s girlfriend, lips slightly parted, lifted a blanket with reverence ; a newborn, skin flushed pink like dawn, blinked up at her, vulnerable and perfect.
Miranda tears streaking hers face, as Grayson gently placed the baby into her arms.
The silence that followed weighed heavier than stone—a quiet pact, a future traded in the glow of innocence and fragile hope.
The infant’s cry echoed in my chest, a sound twisted between joy and betrayal. I blinked back to the present, breath shallow, heart pounding.
I blinked hard, trying to dispel the haunting images. The room was silent but for the pounding rain, and I was back in my living room, trembling, heart pounding in my chest.
"Sorry" I finally whispered, voice trembling. "That was…just a fleeting thing."
Miranda looked at me, concern shadowing her features, her brow furrowing.
"Liz, are you sure everything is okay ? You’re not yourself lately. You seem… distant. Like there’s something you’re not telling me."
I hesitated, my throat tightening. The visions lingered, their echo reverberating through my mind.
" I guess I’ve just been overwhelmed." I said softly. "It’s a lot to process. The pregnancy, everything else."
She reached out, her hand gently resting on mine, her voice warm.
"You don’t have to go through this alone. If you need to talk about anything, I’m here."
I nodded numbly, feeling the weight of her words and the visions pressing down on me.
"You’re not alone. I’m here. We’ll figure this out together. Just don’t shut me out, okay ?"
I managed a faint smile, grateful for her kindness amid the chaos inside me.
"Thanks, Miranda. Really."
We sat in silence, the rain pounding relentlessly outside, and inside, two women holding onto hope amidst the shadows, uncertain of what lay ahead, but knowing they wouldn’t face it alone.
_________
The front door opened slowly, hinges groaning as Bill stepped into the house, brushing off droplets of rain from his coat.
He froze mid-motion when he saw Miranda standing in the living room, her purse in hand, her expression politely composed.
" Oh…I didn’t know you were…" He trailed off, a nervous smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. " Hi, Miranda."
She offered him a gentle nod.
"Bill. I was just leaving."
The atmosphere thickened with unspoken things. Bill didn’t move from the entryway, his presence crackling like static in the space she just shared with Liz.
Miranda turned to me and pulled me into a soft hug. Her arms were warm and light, but I couldn’t stop the weight pressing down on my chest.
" Take care of yourself." she murmured near my ear. "And call me if you need anything. Anything."
I nodded. She gave Bill one last glance — curious, almost wary — then slipped out into the night, the door clicking shut behind her.
Bill lingered near the door for a second, then crossed the room slowly. He looked around like the house wasn’t quite the same anymore. Maybe it wasn’t.
He sat across from me, eyes searching.
" You didn’t told me Miranda was coming over."
" I didn’t think it mattered." How was I suppose to ? He was gone until now.
His mouth parted as if to speak, then closed again. The silence between us stretched taut.
" You’ve been… distant." he said carefully. "I mean, I know things have been tense, but I didn’t think it was this bad. Why do you want a divorce, Liz ?"
I stared at the floor for a moment, watching the shadows the rain made on the carpet. The heat surged behind my ribs again. It rose fast.
"It’s for the best."
He blinked.
"That’s it ? That’s your answer ?"
"Do you want me to lie ?" My voice was sharper than I meant it to be. I looked away, jaw tight. "You weren’t even excited when I told you I was pregnant."
He flinched.
"I was just shocked, okay ? I didn’t knew what to say. That doesn’t mean I don’t care. If you’re doing this, because of how I reacted…I’m sorry, Liz. I really am."
His words hung in the room, damp like the air, soft like regret. But it was too late. There were too many cracks beneath our feet.
I didn’t look at him when I spoke again.
" You don’t have to pretend with me. I know, Bill."
He stilled. Completely. Like every muscle in his body had turned to stone.
"Know what ?"
His voice cracked slightly at the end, almost imperceptible but I caught it.
I turned my head slowly, meeting his eyes. His were wide, a little too wide, the fear behind them coiling like smoke.
"That you’re gay."
His breath caught. For a second, the silence was so absolute I could hear the rain tapping faintly on the windows. Then…
"Liz, I…That’s not…What are you talking about ?"
He gave a nervous little laugh that didn’t reach his eyes, his hands moving restlessly on his knees.
His whole body was tense, like he was trying to outrun the truth with his posture.
I didn’t press. I didn’t need to.
"You’re gay. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not angry."
My voice came out quieter, softer now. "I’m just tired. Of pretending things are fine. Of wondering if I’m the problem."
His lips parted again, but I kept going, steady this time.
"I don’t want a divorce to punish you. I want it because it’s the only honest thing we’ve done in years. I deserve to find romantic love and so do you."
He looked down, his jaw tightening. His hands had stopped moving. His shoulders were slumped.
"I don’t want my child to grow up thinking this is what love is supposed to look like. Two people trying so hard to be something they’re not. We both deserve more, Bill. You do too."
He swallowed hard, his voice just above a whisper.
"I never wanted to hurt you."
"Then don’t. Just be honest. With me. With yourself."
For the first time in a long time, he nodded. Not much. Just enough.
We sat there, the silence gentler this time, not as sharp. The kind of quiet that comes after something heavy is finally laid down.
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