#I really do love the ghazal poetic form so weaving it into Sam and Rory's POVs was fun

[thatonebirdwrites]

I had multiple awful things happen all at once in the past few weeks and it trapped me in a fog. This particular chapter also took much longer to edit because it's content is a bit triggering.

Also, some thoughts on how I structured this chapter:

For Rory/Lena's parts: MID 6.0 is a 180 question assessment used for diagnosing various disassociative disorders, including DID. The following are so often reported by patients that they made their way into this assessment:

"Shrinking" or "getting smaller" or "feeling as if the world is getting larger" (child alters).

Feeling foggy, like one melts away or body parts feel as if they vanish for while.

Unable to see or hear with no known medical reason for it.

Writings, drawings, journal entries that you know you did not write/draw.

Black-outs/amnesia, difficulty remembering things, sections of life can't be remembered.

Trance-like episodes.

Losing time and/or not remembering large chunks of time or large chunks of one's childhood.

Disordered sleep or insomnia (often more drawings or writings you didn't draw will appear during this time).

Rich, creative mental spaces.

Protective alters.

And a ton of others. My therapist was kind enough to give it to me as homework to fill out myself to avoid overwhelming me. We then went over it together.

Rory's sections dig into some of the above and that rich inner world. I wanted to contrast her getting tests done with Sam's worldkiller story; I did this by weaving similar descriptions at the end and start of each of their sections. Sort of like a Ghazal, an Arabic poem, where the last word of the a couplet starts the next couplet.

EXCERPT:

If Sam estimated as to when the Reign horror starts, she’d place it the day she sits in traffic, unable to move thanks to the swarming protesters outside L-Corp. Half are protesting the rise in children sick with lead poisoning, falsely attributed to L-Corps water purification units. The others are cultists announcing the end of the world with the partnership of L-Corp and Supergirl.

She knows the lead poisoning has nothing to do with their products. Kara, herself, and Lena had gone over the units and found nothing. They’d even brought in an independent inspector, who deemed the units safe from lead.

Yet Morgan Edge pushes the narrative, and his inspectors continue to find ‘proof’ that its faulty units from L-Corp. In a few days time, Lena plans to hold a press event, and Sam dreads it. She thinks over the data she’s procured, illegally, for Kara that map the distribution of the affected. It’s not enough to prove innocence, but the map shows the impacted don’t align with the roll-out of the units.

Her phone rings. Sam glances down to see Kara’s name. She swipes it and hits speakerphone. “Sam here. What’s up?”

“So I was looking into that map you sent. There’s got to be a pattern, but it seems almost random.” 

“I know, usually when something like this happens, the affected kids are from a certain area, but those kids are from all over the city. Luke, who I saw today at Ruby’s school, lives down the street, but then there’s a few kids who live across the city and go to Bergen County Day…”

“And there’s several who live all the way in Edgemont. So does any of these addresses you found line up with any personal units you sold?”

“Nope, the roll-out happened in neighboring districts. Personal units don’t go on sale until next fiscal year. We focused on the city contract first. I can't see how our units would even leak lead to start, so I think something else connects them. It’s why I want to meet.” Sam scowls at the crowds. “But there’s a traffic jam of protesters. I can’t even get in the parking garage.”

“I want to do a few interviews of the impacted, see if they give us a clue. Something must connect them. Social media, school, bank statements…”

Oh, that gave her an idea. “Bank statements. Follow the money. That often uncovers what’s hidden.” She leans forward and glares at the traffic jam in front of her. She knows exactly what she needs to search. Tricks she learned from Jack when it came to investigating financial fraud. “But I need more time to dig that up.”

“You sure you can’t talk her out of it?” 

“Believe me, I tried. She’s been…” Sam is reluctant to admit that Lena has been rapidly cycling between at least four alters, and her mental state has disintegrated. “I’m going to have her stay at my place for the next few days. I just don’t think she should be alone right now.”

“Don’t worry. We can tag team this. I’ll see you in a bit. Oh, and there’s a parking spot next street over.” Kara hangs up before Sam can respond. 

Sure enough, when Sam turns onto the next street, she sees several open spots. Pulling into them, she parks, and hurries through the intersection. Darting through the crowds, she nears the front of the building when a cultist slams into her side. She stumbles and falls against the pavement. Pain flares up her arm near where he touched her.

“Pardon,” the man says with a smile. His grey eyes roam over Sam’s body, and she feels like she’s being dissected. Gross. His hands hide in the sleeves of his black cloak, but he extends one to offer her a pamphlet. “Ah, it is a joy to finally meet you, Samantha Arias.”

Sam stares at him. She’s never seen the man in her life. 

He holds out his hand. “I have followed your rise. You too have been touched by the stars. Just as our resident hero.” 

What the hell? She pushes to her feet and tries to push past him, but several other cultists block her way. She’s surrounded. “Please move out of the way. You have the wrong person.” 

“Do we?” The man leers closer, his blue-grey eyes focused on her face, and his smile smarmy at best. “We have long sought you. But not even Patricia Arias could hide you for long.” He holds out a pamphlet and grins. 

A chill swept down Sam’s spine. What the hell did a creepy cultist have to do with her? Maybe she should check on her mother after all. At least to make sure she has some security, because yeah, her mother may not give a shit about her, but Sam can’t do the same. 

“You have the wrong person,” she snaps through gritted teeth. That seems safest at least until she can figure out how the hell this random cultist knows who she is. She jerks away from him and pushes forward. 

Several other cultists block her path. The sweat from their thick robes emit a nasty odor Sam did not need to smell. Hint of claustrophobia starts to sizzle down her spine, and the need to get out amplifies. The shouts from the protesters, plus the soft murmurs of a chant from the cultists ripple through Sam’s ears. 

That’s when a cultist grabs her arm, and her arm burns like she’d been stabbed. Shit. She needs to get away and fast. 

“Move it!” She uses an Aikido move to break free and spin the cultist into another. Darting through the opening, she shoulder bumps a third out of her way and finally bursts free to the front of L-Corp. Security guards rush out finally and start to push the crowd back.