The Forget-Me-Nots

[Lila]

[[Rated 18+ for adult subject matter.]]

The rooftop was busy and the stars were bright. Lila let her head rest in the lap of the girl from 6C. Charity's fingers weaved through Lila's locks, winding purple around fingertips stained with paint and nicotine, a peaceful but disjointed tune buzzing from her lips. They were higher than the rooftops and in the moment, Lila thought she could touch the stars. Rhy'Din's moons hung low in the sky, just out of reach of limbs thick with fatigue and the poisons of the night.

"This bruise looks like a little galaxy. Like the Zandrex Spiral." The hippie's gravelly tones filtered through the cloud of smoke that perpetually hung over the roof. It was nothing unusual for any number of her neighbors to congregate in the open air above the warehouse district. The Hollyoak Bottling Warehouse had long since seen its last manufacturing line and in the present day was filled with tenants who didn't mind the barren steel and concrete walls of the remodeled studios that filled the building now. Artists and designers, dock workers and transients, they came and went, taking advantage of cheap rent and slumlords that didn't care what illicit substances they filled their bodies with so long as the Watch didn't stir up trouble.

"Where's that at?" Lila asked, the hand rolled cigarette brought back up to her lips for a long slow drag. Tobacco and marijuana once again filled her lungs and she held in the heady feeling, allowing her eyes to close momentarily while Charity's caresses ran over the war wounds of another evening of fighting. Ten fights in three days, Lila should have been exhausted but much like usual, she felt nothing. The ring's wards had done most of the work, knitting together torn flesh and repairing most of damage she had taken. All that remained was the smattering of bruises that began at her jawline and ended at her shins.

"In the Gamma Maretti Quadrant of the L-forty-six system." Charity rambled off idly. The woman was both an artist and a scientist, pouring her expertise into perfectly captured works that reflected the intricacies of life, the universe, and everything. To say that Lila envied and admired her neighbor would be an understatement. The younger of the two passed the joint up to the elder, who pinned it at the corner of her mouth before going back to her slow ministrations of Lila's hair.

"I have no idea where that is. Is it beautiful?" Perhaps Lila was more tired than she thought, feeling like she could sink through the roof and sleep forever. It took all she had to keep her eyes open and she forced herself to stare up at the cloudless sky in hopes that maybe somewhere, far off beyond what she could see, that some perfect galaxy reminded someone of Lila. To be that infinite. She sighed.

"It is. The rest of the galaxies in the system are elliptical, vast and full of little solar systems. Planets and moons, you know? Zandrex... it holds a single system within but with some of the most wondrous anomalies that I've ever seen. It's very odd. And very beautiful." Charity brushed a strand of blue-tinged purple from Lila's eyes and leaned over so Lila saw her upside down. Her grin looked like a frown but Lila wished she had her sketch pad so she could capture the moment.

"You calling my bruises odd?" Lila teased, reaching to playfully snatch the dwindling stick from between Charity's lips and draw it to her own mouth. Her blood felt like molasses in her veins and she pondered just how many more substances it would take to freeze it in its tracks. Her mind left the moment and she mentally ticked over the drawer of bottles and baggies, torn between the peace of the rooftop and the peace of oblivion.

"Not gonna lie, darlin', but going and letting people beat on you night after night ain't exactly normal, you know? What're you trying to accomplish?" Charity's index finger poked Lila in the forehead, snapping her back to the present moment instead of the itch for something two floors below. It was a good question. Work did little to distract her from the growing need for something more. Only in the rings did she find solace, peace from the doubt that weighed her down like an anchor.

"I don't know." She whispered, the joint burning down to the roach. It found its way into an ash tray at her side and she slowly sat up, her back arching as she stretched the fatigued muscles. Maybe she needed to sort that out. What was the point? Who was she kidding? She was no prize fighter. No meteoric rise to emerald would make anything of her. Even if she managed to snag an opal for her own, she would still just be Lila. She would still just be nothing. Simply star dust meant to burn out and fade away, a passing moment in an eternity, easily forgotten in the cracks of time and reality. Lila sighed once more, bidding Charity and the others on the roof goodnight. The stars were bright tonight and her veins ached for darkness.

[Lila]

Blue and red lights whirled atop the ambulance outside of the Hollyoak building, blinding Lila with each pass of the spinning LEDs. The delinquent was on her way home from another night of pummeling, this time at Twilight Isle. Which was odd to say the least. The place weirded her out like she was on a bad trip. But she had racked up a few more wins for her record so she could deal with a few hours of discomfort. The number three weighed heavily on her, the final stretch even as she trudged home. Her stiff fingers made a pass back through her hair to remove it from her eyes for a few moments as she approached the front door. It had been propped open and while one medic waited with the ambulance, it seemed the others were already inside. It had happened before. It would happen again. With the misfits and transients that called this place home, it wasn't the first time she saw someone hauled out for some reason or another. The lift was out of order, like usual, so she took the steps. The staircase echoed with frantic voices, each one bouncing around the stairwell and jumbling into one garbled ball of panic. It buzzed in her ears, louder and louder as she ascended. Lila yawned and reached for the fire door that separated the stairs from the sixth floor only to find it too was open.

"Well sh*t." She muttered, crossing the threshold and peering down the dimly lit hallway. People lingered here and there, creating an obstacle course of bodies that lead to an open door near the end of the hall. Light poured from the doorway and as Lila weaved toward it like a moth to flame, the slow realization of just which apartment it was had her pace quickening. Somewhere along the way, she felt a hand catch her upper arm and she tried to pull away without looking. The grasp tightened and she whirled around, intent on waylaying whoever was holding her back.

"Lilz, baby girl, you don't wanna go down there. Trust me." Stephen's voice cut through the din and made it to her ears. For such a slim guy, he had a hell of a grip. Her neighbor's slender fingers tensed around her bicep and her shoulders slumped, relenting in her quest to the open door of 6C. She shook her head almost frantically, refusing to accept the reality of the moment.

"What happened? What's wrong? Let me go, please, I've got to help." Lila whined out, pulling her arm again. Eventually she slipped free and Stephen's attempts at regaining his hold were all for naught as she danced away and ducked into the crowd that was hanging outside of the open apartment. She was stopped at the door by a Watchman's hand in her face.

"Miss, I need you to back up, please. Clear the hallway." He called to the bystanders. Within the apartment, she heard a metallic click of a gurney being lifted and she shook her head again, trying to shove past the Watchman. He handily rebuked her, stiff-arming her back out into the hallway.

"CHARITY!" Lila yelled, trying to peer around the Watchman. Quietly played music was drifting from the stereo inside, tunes she didn't know the words to but pinned as Charity's favorites with their mellow notes and graveled tones. There might have been a tambourine in there somewhere too. Stephen caught up to her and tugged her back, his arms winding around her shoulders and across her chest to pull her away from the annoyed Watchman. Despite Lila's sharp cry, Charity didn't respond. Lila soon found out why.

"Overdose..." Stephen murmured into her ear as the Watchman stepped aside to let the paramedics by. The single word weaseled its way into her brain, echoing loudly as she watched them wheel the gurney by. The medics weren't working on their patient and the sheet had been pulled up over her head. Lila felt her heart sink in her chest and she thought her stomach might fall through her feet. Had it not been for Stephen's arms around her, she might have crumbled right then and there.

"Charity..." Lila repeated, softer this time, a hand reaching out for the still form on the departing gurney. The crisp white sheet laid in stark contract to the dingy grey walls with their chipped concrete and exposed rebar. It laid like a blanket of snow over her friend, cresting at the tip of her nose and the curvature of her breasts, a chest that Lila had rested her head against many a night on the roof. Lila wondered if the macrame necklace rested in the valley between her nose and her chest. Stephen held her closer as a shudder racked her body. In that moment, she felt everything. At least mentally. It was as if the roof was caving in on her. Her knees buckled and Stephen just barely held her up. The paramedics disappeared around the corner and Lila looked back just as the Watchman stepped out of the apartment, pulling the door shut and a roll of crime scene tape from a pocket to begin the arduous task of shutting away Charity's apartment until the landlord decided what needed to be done with its contents. Stephen slowly tried to usher her toward 6B, the apartment that separated Charity's from Lila's. Her limbs didn't want to work and she moved sluggishly, like the Tin Man without oil.

"Come have a drink. Sit for awhile." He murmured into her ear, a solid arm wound around her thin waist as he guided her into his apartment, shutting and triple locking the door behind him. One latch flipped, one chain slid, one bolt popped in to place. One, two, three and she was shut out from the low roar that the hallway had died down to. Her lash line burnt with the threat of tears and she rubbed her eyes furiously to ward them off. Stephen's grip released her when her knees touched the couch and she crumpled into the less than soft embrace of the cushions below. Red rimmed hazels slid their way to the ceiling, staring blankly as she listened to Stephen clink and clank bottles and glasses alike before she felt the depression of the cushion beside her, prompting a slow swing of her gaze back to meet his. He dangled the glass in front of her. Whiskey and coke. Charity's favorite. Her eyes welled up again and she choked back a sob that fought its damnedest to break free before taking the glass and finishing it off in quick order.

"Uh..." Stephen faltered, blinking a few times before taking the glass back and refilling it. He hadn't intended for it to go down like a shot, but Lila had made it happen all the same. The second went much like the first but the third was held and nursed as she tilted her head to rest against the couch. She didn't want to feel anymore. She wanted to forget all of this and sleep for days. Maybe when she woke up, she'd find it was all a dream. Stephen brushed a strand of hair from her face before settling his hand on her thigh. Her eyelids felt heavy and her head spun. It took an inordinate amount of blinks to get her eyes to focus as Stephen leaned in, one hand coming up to settle against the side of her neck, his fingers curling around the back of her neck and tangling in her hair.

"Thanks for the drinks, Stephen..." Lila murmured softly, the words feeling clunky and weird on her tongue. Her own hand mirrored the one on her thigh, settling high on his leg and giving him a gentle squeeze as he nodded and slowly leaned in. She couldn't decide if her head was too heavy for her neck or if it was going to float away so Stephen's hand felt like a fair medium, keeping her in place. Some part of her knew she should be going, to go find some positive way of dealing with the pain. But she was here. And he was here. His lips found hers and she clumsily kissed him back, the distraction from her thoughts rather welcome despite have zero attraction to the man currently running his hand further up her leg. Somewhere in her mind, Charity's teasing words bounced around her head. Something about Lila's tendency to sleep with inappropriate men at inappropriate times. It had been a good natured ribbing at the time but here and now, they had her faltering and she found herself second guessing his mouth against hers, her hand on his belt and his tongue running over her own. Pulling her lips from his, she frowned and bowed her head.

"I should get going, I'll see you later..." She mumbled and pulled away further, getting her feet under her to stand only to sway and end up tipping back into his waiting arms on the couch. He brushed his lips along her neck and his fingers through her hair.

"Stay...I'll make you feel better. Let me take the pain away." He murmured against her throat, pressing something close to a tender kiss to the hollow where her neck met her chest. It was like he knew the magic words to make her putty in his hands as she melted back against the scratchy, stiff couch, acquiescing to his heavy handed caresses. It was hard to argue with logic like that even with Charity's teasing lingering in the back of her mind. If it meant a night of not thinking about the loss of her friend or the pain that seemed to radiate out from her heart, she could deal with one more night with another inappropriate conquest. It was easier than feeling anything real.

[Lila]

Days blurred and nights blended, an indecipherable mishmash of toxic fumes and dazed wanderings. The sun had just begun to weasel its way through cloud cover and into the frosted skylights above Lila's loft, getting a groan and a sluggish pull of a pillow over her head. Each heartbeat echoed in her temples, reminding her of just how much she had drank the night before. But finally she forced herself to rise, eyes squinting to guard against the late morning light as it assaulted her retinas. Nausea roiled in her gut, bile rising in her throat as she fought back the urge to vomit.

"F*ck." She muttered, swinging her legs over the side of her bed, kicking to free herself from the tangled sheets that tried to bind her to the bed, bidding her to return to their warm embrace. It was tempting. But she had work to do. Somehow in the past week, she had boosted herself up to Emerald ranking, taken on a mentee, and committed herself mentally to an Opal challenge. The Outback was becoming a second home, something she wasn't quite sure if she liked the idea of or not. Despite all of the fighting, she still had a job she needed to do. Bills to pay, vices to fund, you know how it goes. That reminded her, she was out of weed. One more thing on the To Do list.

We should talk sometime. Rick had told her the night prior. She knew those looks, the ones that framed conversations of equal parts curiosity and concern. Lila should have known better than to spill as much as she had. People wondered why she attended outings screwed up out of her mind, but conversations like the night prior had only furthered her resolve to keep up the habit. It was far harder to babble about herself when she couldn't think straight. Perhaps it was best if she cleared out before Rick wandered his way over for another rooftop session of ducking and dodging punches. Whether he was learning anything or not, she had no idea. But he won a fight so there was that.

Lila's fingers tugged loose strands back to secure them at her crown with a green elastic before finding something to wear for the day. The functionality of her selection might have been questionable, the denim cut off shorts and v-neck t-shirt weren't quite weather appropriate with the unseasonable chill that lingered in the air well into April, but it would do. Slinging her backpack up onto her shoulders, rather than exit via her front door, she cracked open the window out to the fire escape and slipped out onto the barely bolted but seemingly solid wrought iron ledge. The bulky pack on her shoulders made for quite the balancing act, but she padded along the escape until she met the edge. Rather than go down, Lila leaned and reached for the escape of the apartment besides hers. Stephen, she reminded herself. Oh well, she would make her trip quick as she used his section of the ledge as a segue to Charity's, avoiding even a sideways glance toward his windows.

Another lean, another reach, another grab, and another hop had her finding her destination with only the slightest of wobbles. Lila's fingertips wiggled the window of Charity's apartment, finding it unlatched like always before heaving it upwards to allow her entry. The door to the apartment was locked and still cordoned off with police tape, awaiting next of kin or the landlord to make a decision for what to do with Charity's possessions. Lila knew that Charity had no family here. No blood family at least, all of her kin still somewhere in 1970's Earth, Charity had claimed the tenants of the building to be her family. Truthfully, Lila had done the same in return, taking Charity as an older sister of sorts or maybe even a motherly type.

Lila's worn down Chuck Taylors echoed as they hit the floor and she straightened up with a quick dust off, leaving the window open behind her as she side-stepped a telescope poised at the window, never to be used again by the artistic scientist who spent her nights star gazing and painting galaxies. A loft so often filled with music and Charity's off-key additions of singing or humming was eerily silent. Lila was alone. Charity would never be coming home. The studio's living room sat just as it had the night her friend had passed, a pool of wax had hardened on the table from a candle melted to a measly stump, a bent spoon with dried residue in its bowl sat beside a tumbler with watered down whiskey three fingers deep.

Soon it would all be gone. The Hollyoak Building's landlord only let departed tenants belongings sit for a week or two before he got rid of them, contracting a half-assed cleaning crew to whip an abandoned loft into renting shape so new person could move in. With rent as rock bottom as it was, the building was nowhere close to profitable unless it was full. Lila laced her fingers together at the back of neck, turning a slow circle to take one last look at the place before it all disappeared. It was a shame that it would all be tossed into a dumpster, papers and paintings alike. Lila's gaze came to a stop on Charity's latest work, a wide canvas set on a battered easel, splashed with an array of orange, blue, and purple on a background of black. She stepped closer for further examination, the expansive galaxy intricately outlined and filled in with excruciating detail. But the stars weren't what drew her curiosity. Instead it was what the painting filled, her eyes running over the slender human outline that served as a vessel for the galaxy, the gentle curvature of a frame just barely graced by feminine angles and topped by swooping swirls of...pink and blue and purple.

Lila's eyes widened, brimming with a slow well of tears as she reached for the painting, pulling the canvas from the easel gently and sending a slip of paper fluttering to the floor. That was the next thing she grasped, holding the unfinished work of art of her chest as she read the excerpt that seemed to serve as Charity's inspiration for the piece.

Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie

Her breath hitched and she quieted long enough to hear a rustle of movement outside of the door. Indecipherable murmurs between two parties sounded and frantically, Lila dashed for the window once more. Still clasping the painting close, she wiggled herself out through the narrow opening, backpack and all, almost upending Charity's telescope on her way out before just barely managing to shut the window and duck out of view. With her heart racing in her ears, she exhaled a shuddered breath choked with emotion before she swallowed it back and calmed herself. Crawling her way back to Stephen's fire escape, she quickly traversed it to her own and slid back into her apartment to stow the painting for safe keeping. She needed to get out of here, though, and once more she slipped out of the studio. After all, she had work to do and she was out of weed.

[Lila]

A week spent in a relative daze was certain to make time fly. The steady stream of tobacco and marijuana and alcohol and other substances were a surefire way to forget the vitriol that threatened to boil over at every turn. The pent up hatred and hurt were a lethal concoction, hell bent on destroying her from the inside out unless she found a way to release some of the anxious energy that bubbled under the surface. The opal challenge had been made after quite a bit of deliberation, flipping and flopping over whether or not to do it. Harris was no laughing matter and some sliver of rational thought within her told her she was a fool to think she had anything close to a chance at anything other than brutal beat down. The rest of her saw red and couldn't be diverted. Through a smokey haze she had slapped up the quickly penned declaration and left far more quickly than she had shown up, a hasty retreat from a grenade set to blow up in her face.

The reception of the aforementioned challenge was to be expected, she figured. A thin brow had cocked upwards as she read and with a snort of disbelief and cigarette smoke, she resigned herself to one simple fact; she didn't belong here. She never did. She never would. No matter how much she told herself that this Rhy'din was leaps and bounds better than the one she had come from, she couldn't make herself believe it. Back home had been a solitary existence, one broken only by the occasional drop in to her godparents' home, staying only long enough to wave off concern for her well-being, get a good meal in her stomach and be on her way again. Back to a life of couch surfing and jail stints, illegal endeavors and sometimes... underneath it all in the midst of chaos and disarray, she would try to make more of it all.

But a teenager left to their own devices on the street seldom fares well in a city like this one. Her godparents had tried, really they did. However, only so much could be said to console a teenager in the throes of grief over losing her parent. Lila's relationship with her mother before Claire's death had been, for the most part, contentious and bitter. Her mother spent her days drinking away sorrows that she rarely spoke of, leaving her only daughter to skirt by on her own really and Lila grew to hate her for this. She never understood why her mother had pushed away her father after she was born. It wasn't his fault that a simple drunken one night stand had produced such a... problem. But at the end of it all, Lila hated them both. Lila couldn't help but dwell on the thought that maybe, just maybe, things could have been different if only selfishness hadn't prevailed. It was a selfish thought on her part and she quickly shoved it out of the forefront of her mind.

Eighteen year old Lila Farron-D'Artainian rocked back and forth on the swing that had been installed in her loft by the previous tenant, Rhy'din's moons shining through the skylight, filtering through the layer of smoke above her and casting a silvery glow to pale skin marred by ink and bruises and scars, self inflicted and otherwise. It was an odd sight to behold but she didn't even think about it, her mind instead focused on points years in the past.

Sixteen years before when her mother had decided that Lila didn't need her father in her life. This was a point that Lila had only heard about in passing rather than remembering first hand, whispers of her mother's wishes to raise Lila alone despite being horribly equipped to do so. A bright and vivacious two year old with a knack for learning and certain propensity for getting into trouble, she had been a handful to say the least.

Lila set her feet into motion, lifting them from the floor to allow the gentle pendulum motion of the swing to lull her into some sort of meditative state.

Fifteen years prior when her father finally gave up trying. Looking back, she supposed she should give him credit for attempting for so long despite the issues her arrival had caused in his life but she couldn't help but feel abandoned. Matters weren't helped when he remarried soon after, leaving three year old Lila with her alcoholic mother while he went off to have the family that any decent man would want.

Her legs kicked harder, propelling the swing forward and backward with each extension and contraction.

Twelve years in the past found Lila reliving the harrowing moments of thinking she was going to lose her mother to the self inflicted disease that slowly stole away her ability to function like a normal human being. Between the substance abuse and the depression, Lila's well being was put on the back burner while her mother recovered at Rhydin General from a near fatal run in with Jim Beam. Her mother seemed to drown her pain in the bottom of whatever bottle she could find while Lila was left to, well, she had no pain to drown. Despite the struggle, Lila felt little in regards to the world around her, physical or emotional. It was a blessing and a curse, they had said, but even so early in her life she knew it was the former rather than the latter.

The bolts that held the swing in place creaked in protest as the teenager's path took her closer and closer to the ceiling. Maybe she could fly if she kicked hard enough.

Eight years ago when Lila's godparents had enough of the little girl being neglected and tried for the first time to take her into their home as one of their own. An overwhelming sense of responsibility had claimed the ten year old girl, though, and she begged and pleaded to go home. Mommy needed someone to take care of her even if it should never have been a child who bore that responsibility. Lila couldn't leave her mother even if she had grown to loathe her with everything she had. After a decade, her mom, broken and downtrodden as she was, was all Lila had.

Chains squeaked in time to the steady pumping of her legs, her thin frame not the greatest of loads to bear even for as high as she was. Swinging that is.

Four years in the past when it all got to be too much for her mother and simply let the heartbreak and the alcohol be her undoing. Lila had been certain her mom had only fallen asleep on the couch again, bottle still in her hand. But when the fourteen year old tried to take it and wake her mother to send her to bed, she met the resistance of rigor mortis and the instant terrified denial brought on by the loss of the only person she thought she had. No money had been left to the girl in the wake of her mother's death and the few material possessions passed down were more so mementos and less so valuable. Of course her godparents were there to take her in but the stability of such an environment clashed tremendously with all that she had known and soon Lila struck out on her own, determined to make it solo at any cost.

Her joint had burnt down to the roach and she coughed out a breath at the harsh intake of the next puff, slowing the swing to a stop with a soft skid of sneaker on cement.

Six months ago when she had dashed through a temporal rift while running from the Watch only to find herself in a completely different timeline. Was it a chance for something new? Could this have been what she had been hoping for all her life? No. No, it wasn't. Her parents hadn't even been together for even the briefest of times which meant she didn't exist here. Worse still, in a land where such a thing seemed commonplace, neither of this realm's versions of her parents wanted anything to do with her. While eventually her not-mother warmed up to the idea, going so far as to include Lila in their family holidays at the request of her fiance, Noctis, Lila never quite felt like she belonged. Her not-father refused to acknowledge her existence which was funny considering he had at least a dozen other progeny like her from other realms all show up in quick succession. It wasn't really funny, well maybe it was, okay it was hilarious.

Metal on metal screeched out through the loft as she stood up from the swing, leaving it to quiver with just the remnants of its previous motion. Over six months she had been here and she felt more alone than she ever had. The apartment echoed in strange ways and Lila took extra care to check the three locks on the door before crawling her way up the stairs to the lofted bedroom area. She crashed on her bed, face down on her pillow and exhaled a breath that puffed out her hair around her head. The more she thought about it, the less she felt like she was meant to stay, the urge to disappear building within her until she thought she might burst. Sleep, Lila, she told herself. Tomorrow would be a new day and maybe she would find reason to stay.

[Lila]

Where had her days gone? Lila remembered little about the past forty-eight hours and if it weren't for the aching in her veins, she might have slept for another forty-eight. She awoke in an unfamiliar place, the faint crooning of what sounded like Sinatra filtering in under the crack of the closed door as thin sunbeams cast long shadows over the store room. She groaned and tried to sit up, her head spinning with the effort to overcoming what felt like a ten pound weight on her diaphragm only to realize that the weight was real and a rather quizzical looking tabby cat was peering up at her like it had no clue why she would want to move. Lila scratched between the cat's ears and gently scooted the feline to the side with a soft mew of protest. Don't worry, Mister Cat, she didn't know why she wanted to move either. Bits and pieces of the past few days were slowly surfacing in her mind, steadily accounting for why moving sucked so bad at the moment.

Her challenge for FireStar. That had done it. She swung her legs over the side of the cot, eyeing the stiff brace that held her left leg steady with some amount of dubious discontent. Sitting up made her head swim and for a moment she nearly tossed the meager contents of her stomach. Evidently that had happened sometime prior if the trashcan at her bedside was any indicator. Lila's fingers worked back through her hair to pull it up from the back of her neck. Sweat soaked strands peeled away from clammy flesh and she shivered violently when the cool air of the room permeated over her goosebump covered skin. In short, she felt like sh*t. It was a weird feeling, the sluggish response of each muscle in her body, especially knowing it didn't come from any sort of substance diluting her blood. The fight had done a number on her even with the adept healing touch of her friends. Fractures seemed to be on the mend and the bruising wasn't so deep and on the upside, she ran her fingers down the sides of her nose, the break had been realigned. The metallic scent of blood was still prominent though and she crinkled her nose and grabbed for her phone from the store room shelf.

"Two days. F*ck." She muttered, squinting at the bright screen in the dim room. The time glared at her and she scowled right back, catching a glimpse of herself in the glossy reflection the screen gave. Purple and black had spread under her eyes and across the bridge of her nose, the edges just barely tinging greenish yellow. Her left cheekbone was significantly more swollen than the right and quite frankly it looked like someone had taken a set of brass knuckles to her face. Oh wait. That's exactly what had happened. It wasn't Lila's first run in with such things but it was the first that they had left such a substantial amount of damage. Times like these she was glad for her inability to feel much of anything because if the bruising and stiffness was any indicator, she was lucky to be moving. And she needed a drink. Desperately. Alas, her flask was nowhere to be seen. It made sense, she hadn't had it when she entered the Outback on Tuesday night, so evidently she hadn't been home since the fight.

The tabby cat accompanying her pawed at Lila's side and she stiffened at the odd feeling. With muscles were bruised and tense, each breath taken in was stopped short by the tightness in her ribs. Two and two eventually clicked and she remembered where she was. The fabled King of Clubs Magic Shop slash the Spade and Heartt Detective Agency. At least that explained the random cat. Tanya and Rick had brought her there in a concussed and beaten daze after the fight, covered in dried mud and her own blood. It was a shame, she had really liked that shirt. Speaking of shirts, her trembling hands plucked at the material of the one plastered to her frame, pulling it away from sweating flesh with a cringe. So not only had she ruined her own shirt but she was making a right mess of this one, whoever it belonged to.

Lila needed to get out of here. She needed to sleep another couple of days. She needed a drink and a smoke and a fix. All at once if possible. And maybe a shower. A long, long shower. Slowly she eased herself up to her feet, wincing at the minimal amount of pressure it took to cause protest from her injured knee. The more she thought about the fight a few nights prior, the worse she felt. Anxiety was building within her and despite her friends' best intentions, she felt like a caged animal. The limp slowed her down quite a bit but eventually she crossed the room and sought out a piece of paper and a pen. Chicken scratch pen strokes scrawled out the message, punctuated by an unsteady signature at the bottom.

rick,

thanks for looking out for me and letting me lay low for a few days. i gotta run though. im sorry i fell on you but next time if someone falls off the bridge, trying to catch them is a terribad idea. tell quinn im sorry for intruding and give my thanks to her too. hope this is enough to pay you back for your kindness.

lkfd

Lila dug through her pockets until she found what she was looking for. The wad of cash and assorted silver was plunked down next to the note. A coin went skittering off the table and the tabby cat promptly pounced on the shiny object. Next came the small diamond studs from the dermal implants under her left collarbone. They probably didn't mean anything in this Rhy'Din but maybe they were worth something all the same. Setting the diamonds down, she scrawled a post script on the paper.

p.s. 88th and 89th outback diamonds from back home, at the very least the rocks are worth a little bit of cash

Lila's hands shook as she dropped the pen and eased her way steadily for the door. Her leg still didn't want to support much of her weight and she gritted her teeth as her awkward limping gait slowly eased her over the threshold. Sinatra was drowned out by the sound of her heart in her ears again and her head spun dangerously. The back hall of the building was much brighter than the store room had been and the light assaulted her eyes with an excessive amount of fluorescent intensity. But it was a straight shot for the back door and as quietly as she could, she slipped out for the trek back home, sure to take the rest of the afternoon.

[Lila]

Bodies heal. Fractures mend, bruises turn green and yellow and fade away, even scars diminish with time. It's what lays beneath it all that isn't so quick to recover. Ego. Pride. Fortitude. It wears down. She was worn down. She was exhausted. She was tired of this place and tired of home. Neither was right for her and she was so very done with having nowhere to go. Much like many nights before, she sat atop the roof. Tonight it was strangely empty and the only smoke lingering there came from the hand rolled cigarette pinned between her middle and ring finger. Eight stories up and she was no closer to the moons and stars than she had ever been and in the moment, she felt rather small. She was only Lila after all and that fact alone was disheartening. Her notebook sat in her lap and to the right of her crisscrossed legs was a nearly demolished bottle of bourbon. Something cheap, inclined toward gut rot and wicked hangovers. A plethora of unknown substances flowed through her veins, diluting her blood and distorting her perception. Her hand found her mouth and she sucked in another cloud of nicotine and other poisons.

Exhale.

It was impossible to concentrate on much of anything with her mind racing a million miles a minute. Her head was full. So very full. And all outlets for such cramped quarters seemed to have been stifled by her latest failure. It was one too many. Too much for her to take. Muddied hazels ticked out over rooftops and she was momentarily lost in asymmetrical ledges and looming shadows. It was peaceful and she would miss it. It was added to the list. The mental list, that is, among words and faces like drinking and fighting and drawing and Gabe and Jade and Rick. The scrawlings on the paper in her lap made little sense in the grand scheme of things and she wondered if they would ever make sense to anyone that read them down the line. That is if anyone ever did. Lila sighed.

Her own worst enemy, that was something she wouldn’t miss about this life. To live each and every day with her own voice deriding her in the back of her mind. Second guessing, doubting, feeling three inches tall through no other fault than her own. Another cigarette was lit before the first dwindled down while she tried to focus on the notebook in front of her. Really the entry had devolved into equal parts rambling and abstract doodles, her hand guided by the substances that weighed her down. Her head threatened to float away and another drag was taken from the cigarette to refocus her. Again. The notebook was set to the side and she straightened out her legs, swinging them over the roof’s edge.

It was a long way down into the dark. Halfway down the building, the day’s last light had given way to the shadows of night, cloaking the ground below in inky blackness, almost liquid in appearance. Or it seemed that way to a mind addled with drugs and drink. The urge to swim in it grew and she fidgeted with the half smoked cigarette before making a grab for the bourbon. A swig was taken and the bottle chucked. Eight stories below, the bottle landed with a distant crash of broken glass. She was a strange sort of volatile mixed with calm as evidenced by the steady breath exhaled from behind the guard of a trembling hand clutching a cigarette.

There was no going back.

No matter what the logical centers of her brain tried to say, she truly believed in the deepest depths of her soul that there was no way to fix her. No remedy for the life she lead. No saving her from the despair that drowned her in deluded thoughts and self loathing. Rationale was out the window and long gone and as she rocked forward to peer off the edge again, a small smile crept across lips laden with metal rings and studs. Clack-clack-clack, the sound her tongue barbell against her teeth echoed in a disjointed manner, bouncing back from the buildings around her, multiplying then fading away. As the sound died down so too did her wonder. Had Charity been here she would have known that Lila’s quiet was something of concern. But Charity wasn’t here and Lila was lost to the desolation of her own mind.

She stood, leaving the journal behind.

The roof’s edge was traversed like a balance beam, one arm out for balance, the other steadily bringing the cigarette to her mouth like it was her very life blood. Breathe in, breathe out. Calming. But maybe calming wasn’t what she needed at the moment. This zen thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The clarity she thought she had wasn’t all that clear and as she mosied along the ledge, the dangerous sway of her step was nearly enough to send her toppling one way or the other. She cared not. A heavy gust could have easily made the choice for her but there was no breeze this evening. Early May seemed to be coming in like a lamb, the cool air off the harbor carrying the scent of fish and the sea to meet her upon her perch over the city.

Lila came to a stop. It was the perfect view. The partly cloudy sky above met the sea at the horizon, a blending of black and stars that rippled every direction according to her distorted perception. Waves crashed against galaxies and she smiled at the perfection of the sight. It was infinite. Unlike her. Just as quickly as the smile arrived, it ghosted away and off into the night, fleeting and ephemeral just like she was. The frown that settled on her lips was much more decided and as she flicked the cigarette butt off of the building’s edge, she swallowed hard as she watched it disappear into the dark. Burning out. Fading away. Gone.

That was life. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

She stood on the ledge for hours and at her back to the east, the sun was just beginning its morning routine. Hints of pink and orange began to ease their way upon the eastern horizon but her gaze remained intent upon the sea. The influence of substances natural and otherwise slowly faded from her veins at much the same pace the stars faded from the sky. At some point another cigarette or six had passed through her hands and as she hesitantly sucked on the last one from her case, she savored the taste and nicotine’s tingle in her brain. The pool of black still remained below and as she scanned it for any signs of life, she became vaguely aware of the tears that slid down her cheeks, making a right mess of her makeup. Mascara cut trails of black in jagged paths as the tears left their salty mark on her flesh. Lila had decided and she mourned that decision. A steady step turned her around and she caught a glimpse of the rising sun waking from its nightly slumber. She traced the fingers of gold and rose as they reached through the sky and grasped at the lingering stars and as she leaned back her arms opened wide as well. Her stomach leapt into her throat with the first feeling of freefall and breeze brushing through tangled locks. Her gaze found the stars again and as she flew she too was infinite if only for a few moments.

The dark that welcomed her below was a shockingly cold embrace. There was no warm light to go into, no flashing of her life before her eyes, no salvation in the fall. Just black. Such was the end of a spark that never caught. Burning out. Fading away. Gone before the whirling red and blue lights even arrived.















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