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corralinesage · 27 days ago

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Learning you by heart (13/?)

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE!! May 2025 treat you well<3

Chapter 13: Parallel, parallel

You spent a good amount of time on the couch, watching any Christmas movies that you found on TV while surfing through the channels, indulging yourselves on an entire bowl of chocolate truffles to ensure you didn’t go hungry while sipping on refills of coffee. You were cuddled up in the corner of the couch in the same spot as the night before, Natasha’s head on your chest, cushioned by your breasts, your hand in her hair, a blanket covering your tangled up legs. You couldn’t have asked for anything better. You couldn’t have dreamt of anything more fulfilling and comforting than that very moment as her warmth seeped into your body and stirred up the colorful emotions inside you. There was nowhere else you would have rather been, no one else you would have rather been with. Every single aspect of that shared moment was perfect, undeniably beautiful.

You had lit up the candle you had received as a gift and put it on the coffee table, the bright yellow light flickering gently, the scent of cinnamon and clove only strengthening the smell of gingerbread that wafted through the entire house, mixing with the perfume you had immediately tried onto the inside of your wrist. The smell was sweet, slightly spicy in a way that you recognized to be typical for Natasha. She liked earthy, rich scents with a hint of sweetness, something that you hadn’t realized would suit you so well. You were wearing the thick socks Natasha had gifted you, warm beneath her and the blanket, sucking on a candy cane. The low lighting of the living room was delicate and cozy, the Christmas tree shining silently in the corner, your attention seeming to gravitate toward it every once in a while, as if to make sure that the tree was still in its rightful spot before returning to the cartoon Grinch you were watching, the colorful images flashing before you on the TV. Natasha was humming quietly to the well-known song in the movie, your arms automatically tightening around her to hold the adorable sight just a little closer to your chest. She was undeniably charming without even trying, the low humming warranting a kiss onto the top of her head. She pulled back from your chest to see your face, smiling at you in the most intimate and vulnerable way you had ever seen anyone smile. She crawled just a little higher on top of you, her lips only barely reaching your chin to give it an affectionate peck. After that you couldn’t help but to lift your head off the pillow to reach her properly, your hand that was in her curls guiding her into a firm kiss that made you feel like you couldn’t quite breathe properly.

When the morning turned into afternoon, you finally got up from the couch, deciding to help Wanda with the party preparations after she ushered you off the couch and made you tidy up the living room from the dishes, candy and gift wrappers. You and Natasha moved into the kitchen to clean and help Wanda with anything you could while she ran around the house following some schedule that you and Natasha were not a part of. It was rather amusing to watch Wanda fuss over the smallest of details in the strive for perfection despite the fact that all the people who were coming over were friends and family who expected quite positively nothing extravagant from Wanda. All they wanted was to spend time with their loved ones during the holidays, but Wanda was known for overshooting when it came to showing off her cooking and baking skills as well as hospitality. She loved to be the backbone of any get-together. She liked preparing food and trying out new recipes that she could potentially incorporate into her business. She also happened to strive off of people’s comments and praise regarding all her hard work. A good few hours later of you helping Wanda, it was finally time to go get ready for the party before the guests would arrive.

“What do you think I should wear?” You turned to Natasha expectantly after pulling open the doors to your wardrobe.

“Hmm, maybe something casual?” She suggested, taking a seat on the edge of your freshly made bed, going through her small purse that somehow fit way more items than you would’ve ever believed. You skimmed through the clothes in your closet, looking for something fancy, but nothing over the top. “You could put on a cute sweater and some nice trousers.” You grinned brightly at the suggestion as you laid your eyes on an item that fit the description at least partly. You pulled the sweater on without further consideration, leaving your plain pajama pants on.

“I’ve got just the thing”, you announced in excitement, amusement practically dripping from your voice, prompting Natasha to raise her eyes from the contents of her bag to see your clothing of choice. She burst into laughter at the sight of the familiar sweater, her gaze immediately dipping down to the mistletoe dangling above your belt line. The look on your face was one filled with pure joy as Natasha stood up from the bed to come closer to you, clearly lured in by the message on the sweater. She could barely hold in her chuckles as she stood before you, pulling on the hem of the sweater to take a proper look at the horribly ugly Christmas sweater.

“Oh, but I can’t have anyone else end up beneath this mistletoe. This one is just for me”, she hummed as if to herself, her eyes meeting yours.

“You’re under the mistletoe”, you whispered knowingly, your smirk wider than the Grinch’s.

“I am, indeed.” Her eyes remained on yours as she let go of the sweater, her hands finding your waist. She knelt slowly before you, her touch moving down to massage your hips and buttocks in a gentle caress. You could barely hold in your excitement, her sultry eyes staring up at you, her lower lip clamped between her teeth as she leaned forward, pressing her lips right below the mistletoe, a very visceral spark of electricity shooting through you at the gentle touch of her lips even through two layers of fabric, your knees turning into jelly from the simple kiss.

“I might just have to go with this one”, you breathed out weakly. It was rather easy to tell that you were ridiculously affected by Natasha’s touch, your body seeming to lean closer to her in search for more.

“If you keep this on, we’ll never make it downstairs”, she retorted in a gentle warning that made you giggle.

“Better take it off then. This thing is dangerous”, you mumbled in amusement, pulling the knitted fabric up your torso as Natasha stood up from the floor.

“I don’t think it’s the sweater, detka (baby)”, she mused quietly. “It’s you that’s dangerous.” She allowed her nails to scrape over your bare abdomen, your muscles contracting at the teasing touch, a small gasp sounding from you, prompting Natasha to look up at you, only to find the sweater still draped over your head, the mistletoe placed right over your forehead, an expectant smile on your face. She chuckled softly, the sound getting muffled by your lips as she kissed you, ensuring that you got a proper kiss to think about while you spent the night at a socially acceptable distance from each other.

Friends and family started to slowly find their ways to the brownstone an hour later after you and Natasha had finished getting ready. You ended up wearing a simple pair of trousers, as Natasha had suggested, paired with a slightly tamer sweater, putting on light makeup just for the joy of getting ready. You borrowed Natasha your makeup and hair care products that she hadn’t been able to bring with her because her change of clothing took up most of the space in her purse. She wore a short, tight skirt that reached her mid thighs, leaving a good amount of room for her toned legs to shine, the silky skin covered by sheer, black tights. On the top half, she wore a thin, white blouse that was form fitting but not tight. The sleeves were slightly looser around her wrists, giving the shirt an elegant look to it. She looked beautiful, irresistible, really, but that had nothing to do with her outfit and everything to do with her natural beauty, her face, her body, her personality.

Welcoming guests was unexpectedly entertaining for Natasha. Monica was the first to arrive which immediately made you and Natasha glance at each other knowingly, both of you thrilled to see Wanda blush like a fool as she accepted the red roses Monica had brought her. It was finally Wanda’s turn to be sappy and foolish around her crush, you and Natasha enjoying the show immensely until more guests started to appear at the doorstep. Natasha watched with her mouth agape as Steve Rogers and his shocking physique and height, or rather lack thereof, walked in with James Barnes in tow, shortly after followed by Clint and Laura Barton with their children. Natasha’s chest ached. She could barely breathe, her heart hammering inside her ribcage from utter shock at who exactly the guests were. Never in a million years had she expected to encounter more of the people she loved so dearly in another life, perhaps in every life —she was yet to find out. The living room filled quickly, Thor striding in with Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis. The final guest of the day was Pietro Maximoff, Natasha’s jaw nearly unhinging all together. She hadn’t seen Pietro in years, his traumatic death crossing her mind as the charming man pulled Wanda into a tight hug, kissing her hair as he swayed her gently. It felt beyond surreal, perhaps even more so as Natasha slowly became aware of just how far the similarities of the reality reached.

You got glasses of Prosecco once everyone had arrived and set their gifts beneath the Christmas tree, Natasha’s gaze going around the room as you all raised a toast for Christmas. They all clearly knew one another, Natasha turning out to be the only new addition to the group of people, but she was welcomed as warmly as ever by everyone. You were all gathered in the living room, illuminated by candles and Christmas lights, the conversation naturally picking up as the guests started to catch up with one another. Natasha learned a lot from simply sitting quietly beside you on the couch and listening to the cheerful chatting from others. Thor was a regular client at the bakery, years of consistent interaction with Wanda having led to random parties and invitations that had also allowed Wanda to befriend Jane and Darcy as well. Steve worked at the bakery and often hung out with Wanda during breaks. Bucky was a regular there because he was best friends with Steve and worked a block away as an engineer. Natasha’s gaze shifted to the only kids in the room, her eyes focusing on Lila who was a good eight years younger from the sixteen-year-old Natasha had left behind in her original reality. Lila was clearly the youngest of the three, the two older boys, whom she knew as Cooper and Nathaniel, lost in some kind of game that resembled rock-paper-scissors. Natasha could barely look at the children, memories from her previous reality flashing through her mind. She couldn’t look at Clint, the lump in her throat preventing her from making any contact with her best friend.

“Mommy, can I have more apple juice?” Lila asked quietly, poking her mother’s leg impatiently, holding her empty glass in her hand. Laura, who was sitting right next to you, was deep in conversation, lacking patience to even look Lila’s way. The girl poked her mother a little harder.

“Lilian!” Laura’s voice was chastising, but she didn’t seem entirely mad. “Why don’t you ask Cooper or Noah?” A part of Natasha felt a sense of grief from knowing that her presence had never reached the Barton family which had left the second-born boy with a different name.

“I was just going to go refill my glass. Why don’t you come with me?” Natasha said suddenly, just loudly enough for Lila to hear. The girl seemed taken aback by such an offer from a stranger, her eyes shifting to Laura for approval.

“What a nice offer from Natasha”, Laura said in a very typical voice used with kids as she did her best to persuade Lila. Natasha swallowed back her sudden tears, glancing away to blink her eyes dry. She should have fought harder back then. It should have been her. “Don’t you think so too, Lilian?” Natasha frowned almost imperceptibly at the name but let the observation slide by. Lila nodded her head, giving Natasha the permission to offer her hand to Lila. You looked fondly after them as Natasha and Lila went into the kitchen to find more apple juice for the latter. When they returned, Lila was giggling in excitement, a spark of joy in her eyes. You couldn’t help but to smile. It came to you as no surprise that Natasha was good with children and had won the girl over in such a short amount of time. She was such a charmer, after all.

You had more drinks and snacks that worked as appetizers for the Christmas dinner, Natasha and you going from one person to another to allow Natasha to get acquainted with everyone, so that you could all feel equally included. Once Wanda had everything ready in the dining room, she invited her guests to sit at the table and dig into the warm dinner. You all squished yourselves to sit around the medium-sized table that was far too large for you and Wanda alone, yet not enough to fit the large number of guests. The dinner was rather traditional, made up of different types of casseroles, refreshing side salads, and roasted meat. It was perfectly normal, and perfectly comforting. You and Natasha sat near Clint whom Natasha was conversing with after finally plucking up the courage to face him. He and Laura kept up a lively discussion about how they had met, their family, and how they knew Wanda. Apparently, they had known each other for years through the Maximoff family and liked to come over for Christmas every once in a while to stay in touch with Wanda and Pietro. Natasha struggled to focus on what Clint was saying, her mind straying every chance it got to remind her of what his fate had been in another life. She tried her best to counter such grim memories with better ones, ones that brought her comfort, but seeing him right there in front of her was all too jarring to deal with, her mind returning over and over again to the pain she had caused for the Barton family, until she finally managed to force herself to focus back on Clint’s story. She made a conscious effort to pay attention to positive details about he and Laura’s personalities to prevent herself from bursting into tears. She could easily spot all the familiar characteristics in Clint and Laura’s dynamic, but there were also many differences that stuck out. Clint’s humor, to Natasha’s surprise, was cleverer than the common dad jokes that Natasha had gotten used to over the years. Laura was sterner with the kids, which caused them to gravitate more toward their father, especially when asking for more sweets. Natasha noticed that she got along with the Barton’s very well, unexpectedly well. The interaction felt rather natural. Nothing felt forced, nothing felt all that strange. They were just a nice family willing to open up enough to let Natasha in, something that had always been very typical for Clint.

The kids exited the table first, far too impatient to linger around after finishing their plates of food. The boys, with Lila in tow, moved into the living room to play, Wanda providing them with paper and crayons in case they felt the need to express themselves in an artistic form, the conversation carrying on uninterrupted. You were genuinely pleased to see Natasha get along with the guests, relieved that she seemed to enjoy herself even when put in situations where she was surrounded mostly by complete strangers. It made you feel like the chances of keeping Natasha in your life for a longer period of time were entirely on the table for you. There would be no obstacles or hindrances when she had no trouble infiltrating herself into your life. You looked at her as you speared some green beans a bit absentmindedly onto your fork, observing the way she was communicating with Clint. She was fully absorbed into Clint’s story up until she felt a gentle poke against her arm. Natasha turned around to her left where she had felt the interruption, met with Lila and her shy smile as she handed Natasha a piece of paper.

“Wow, what’s this?” Natasha marveled rather animatedly, eyeing the drawing of a woman surrounded by butterflies and flowers. The parallel was almost overwhelming. All the times Lila had shown Natasha the most colorful and creative drawings found the forefront of her mind.

“You.” Lila bounced slightly on her toes, clearly impatient to hear Natasha’s verdict. “I drew your pretty outfit and hair.” Lila pointed at the image for emphasis.

“I can see that”, Natasha hummed in an impressed tone, nodding her head in approval, focusing strictly on the present moment to remain unaffected by the pain of her past. “This is beautiful”, she praised Lila, taking in all the details of the messy drawing. “Is that my bracelet?” Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Wow. You’re incredibly talented.” Natasha took another look at the bright red scribbles that made up her hair, the grey smudges that represented her shirt, and the brown square and black twigs that were meant to be her dress and tights. Lila giggled quietly before snatching the drawing from Natasha and returning to the coffee table to continue drawing. You grinned at Natasha knowingly.

“Looks like you’ve got a fan.” She chuckled softly at your comment, going back to her dinner and the conversation with Clint, eager to learn more about what he did for a living to hopefully distract herself further.

For dessert, Wanda had made cookies and cakes of all sorts to please everyone. There was cheesecake with cranberry sauce, chocolate lava cake, chocolate chip cookies, frosted gingerbreads, chocolate confectionery, and mini cinnamon rolls, the table packed with all the dishes to ensure nobody went hungry on Christmas Day. The amount of food was overwhelming but when it was evenly distributed among all the guests, it slowly disappeared from the table bite by bite. The next conversation Natasha found herself in was with Steve and Bucky. She found it difficult to not ogle at Steve and his rather scrawny appearance in comparison to the person Natasha had known before. Steve wasn’t quite as skinny and frail as he had been during the Second World War. He looked healthy and well nourished, but he was far from the hunk of a man Captain America was, although Natasha had to admit that there was a good amount of muscle on him, at least compared to the frail and sick version of him she had only seen pictures of. The dynamic between him and Bucky was much lighter and jovial than she had ever witnessed before. Their demeanors were more boyish, but they had a certain air of old souls about them despite belonging into the same age range as the rest of them, excluding Clint and Laura. Steve wasn’t as reserved as Captain Rogers had always been. He was up to date with the world and seemed to be truly in his element. It was nice to see him really reflect a sense of belonging in the world. It brought Natasha peace to know that his past wasn’t as troubled as it had been in her reality.

You all returned into the living room to lounge around after no one could bear to take another bite no matter how delicious the food was. Pietro and Thor’s loud laughter boomed throughout the entire first floor, accompanied by Jane and Darcy’s higher pitched giggles, music playing from the stereos as half of the guests whined about how full they were. It made you grin brightly. Never before had you experienced such a Christmas, having previously failed to see the beauty of simply coming together to celebrate the holiday season and the end of the year with those you loved the most. You followed Natasha toward the living room, but instead of taking a seat to join the others, she turned to you.

“I’m gonna go into the bathroom real quick”, she hummed in passing, pecking your lips briefly before heading up the stairs. You took a step toward an empty seat in the living room, but felt a hand on your shoulder before you could slip away from the kitchen.

“Hey, Lila found this from under the couch”, Wanda said, handing a black, leather wallet to you. You immediately recognized it to be Natasha’s from the golden clasp that held the coin pocket shut.

“Oh, thanks. I’ll take it upstairs”, you hummed, immediately heading toward the staircase.

You popped open the button of the wallet that held together the leather flaps, slightly unsure why you did so, your curious eyes taking a peek inside. Something white slipped out from the flat pocket of the wallet, a piece of paper of some sort landing on the wooden steps, letting out a slight slap when it connected with the sleek surface. You stopped in your tracks in the middle of the stairs, reaching down for what you realized to be a Polaroid picture, carefully picking it up as you slowly continued to walk up the stairs. You flipped the image around, your heartbeat thudding in your ears as the world slowed down around you. It was like your surroundings suddenly went completely silent. Nothing else outside of you existed as you made it into your room, freezing in your tracks, staring down at the printed picture in your hands. It was no more than the size of the palm of your hand yet held a significance like no other. You felt like you couldn’t quite breathe properly, the ragged inhales you took demanding twice the energy that breathing normally did. You couldn’t believe your eyes, the shock you experienced opening your eyelids so far that you felt like your eyeballs might pop out. You were in that picture. You were in that picture with Natasha, in Natasha’s arms, donning a summer dress that you didn’t own, both of you basking in the summer sunlight that you had never experienced with Natasha before. She was hugging you from behind, holding you against her, her cheek pressed tightly against yours as you both grinned at the camera. You looked different, your hair color was different, your demeanor was different enough for you to understand that it wasn’t you that you were looking at, yet the resemblance was uncanny. It was you.

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cabinetofquriosities · 1 month ago

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Everybody Wants to Rule the World || Chapter 2

Agatha x Rio || Warnings: Violence, Smut for later chapters

Leave a review on ao3!

Full playlist/ Master Post

Listen along:

———————————————————————Agatha traveled back and forth to Westview for a week and a half. She and Chief Jones worked together to create the most accurate timeline possible leading up to the discovery of Herbert Potts’ body. He had been seen earlier that day playing golf up to the twelfth hole. He then had dinner at the club with a few friends who all had solid alibis. After that, he went home alone and was killed between 4-4:50 when he was discovered. It was likely closer to 4:50 given that the killer made their exit while Arthur Hart was in the house.

They questioned his friends, neighbors, and everyone else who knew him in the community. Each person had the same things to say about him. He was kind. He would give you the shirt off his back. He was too heartbroken to date after losing his wife. He adored his daughter and never recovered from losing a child to estrangement. Apart from her and Tony Stark, everyone liked him.

The forensics told them no more than what they ascertained at the scene. He had been alive for the majority of the time he was being cut apart.

No fibers, no prints, no DNA.

After work every night, Agatha would go to the gym. She normally went once or twice a week, but found herself there much more often. She told herself that it was just to blow off steam, but always kept an eye out for the playful brunette with the bleeding heart.

She was there nearly every night at ten like clockwork. Agatha would spend time doing her warmups and catching up on audiobooks until the other woman would walk in.

At first, the two made comfortable small talk. However, a rapport was established between the two by the third night. They became workout buddies. Agatha stopped hiding her smile whenever Alison arrived and Alison stopped keeping herself at arm’s length, pulling her into a hug every time she said “hello” or “goodbye.”

Agatha would go stiff, but Alison would wait until she relaxed into the embrace. Affection was always complicated with her. She paradoxically wanted so desperately to enjoy physical displays of affection while also feeling at a loss of how to operate when it would finally happen. It discouraged a lot of exes and friends from trying, but Alison was like Wanda in that she understood that Agatha actually needed it. She just had no idea how to exist comfortably while receiving love of any kind, whether it be romantic or platonic.

One night, Alison didn’t show up for her usual workout. Agatha waited for a while, but finally gave up. She didn’t know Alison long enough to be familiar with her work schedule and decided that Wednesdays were probably her off-days.

She walked out to the parking lot, having exercised regardless of her new friend not being there. Her thighs and calves burned from pushing herself thirty minutes further with cardio, due in no small part to hoping that the other woman would walk in at any moment. She called Wanda from the car as she settled her gym bag on top of a pile of takeout remains.

“Well, hello stranger,” said a wry yet posh voice on the other end.

“Long time no see.”

“Or talk, or anything…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. I’ve just been slammed at work,” Agatha sighed.

“Try again. You’re always busy at work, but I usually hear from you at some point.”

“Well, what do you think this is?”

“I normally hear from you every few days. Is everything alright?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” said Agatha in a frustrated tone.

“You don’t sound it. What’s going on?”

“It’s a rough case. That’s all it is.”

“You sound out of breath.”

“Oh, I was in the gym.”

“This late? I practically have to lure you in there with promises of post-workout wine. Wait, are you working out because you’re dating again?!”

Agatha groaned as she could hear the smile on Wanda’s lips. She sighed, running her hand through her hair.

“I’m not dating,” she said.

“…but you like someone?”

Agatha always hated how Wanda seemed to get in her head. She always recognized Agatha’s methods of lying by omission. She waited a moment, which turned out to be a moment too long.

“Who is she?” Wanda asked.

“Fine. Her name is Alison,” she said.

“How’d you meet? Please tell me she’s not a witness or something.”

“No, geez. She goes to my gym,” Agatha said.

“Ah, so you’re working out to see her, then,” Wanda said, “When are you asking her out?”

“I don’t even know if she’s into women.”

“And you won’t find out unless you ask.”

“You say that like it’s so easy,” she said.

“It’s easier than whatever you have going on now. Have you even taken one rest day since you met her?”

“…no.”

“So, either you ask her out or you become a gym rat who’s sore every day.”

“Fine. I’ll ask her to hang out.”

“No… you will ask her to go out. On a date. None of that unlabeled nonsense.”

“I will ask her out on a date. Happy?”

“Thrilled.”

—————————————————————

As Agatha was on her way to Westview, she received a call from her boss. She answered as she drove in a flurry of snow down the highway.

“Agatha, are you in Westview yet?”

“I’m halfway there.”

“Well, you are going to need to turn around and drive north.”

“To where?”

—————————————————————

Agatha drove back up to Massachusetts, passing through the Berkshires to the town of Cheshire. The scenery was picturesque with mountains dappled with the first snow of the winter. She saw fields and produce stands fly by her window.

While stopped at an intersection, she saw a decoration left over from Halloween. Just outside of the fence surrounding a farm was a painted wooden cutout of a classic witch stirring a cauldron. Despite how progressive it became, Massachusetts would always decorate itself with caricatures of its gruesome past. The witch looked like a cartoon, green and smiling out at Agatha with a pointed black hat. She rolled her eyes and kept driving.

She looked for the turn to Mount Greylock, slowing down to find signs pointing to one of the summits of the Appalachian Trail. Her eyes fell on a small statue of a wheel of cheese. She squinted to look at the lettering. “CHESHIRE’S MAMMOTH CHEESE, 1235 LBS, Presented to Thomas Jefferson, January 1, 1802.”

“I don’t even wanna know…” she muttered to herself as she took the turn.

She pulled up to the Veteran War Memorial at the top of the mountain. The view was breathtaking. Frosted peaks and valleys stretched across nearly a hundred miles in every direction. She looked at a plaque listing three states that could be seen from the highest point in Massachusetts. Vermont, New York, and New Hampshire.

Agatha was normally an avid hiker and she knew this beautiful spot would be ruined by whatever she was about to witness. She took a moment to appreciate the beauty before moving towards the very thing that would tarnish it.

The veteran memorial looked like a pawn from a chess board. It was a tall, sloped structure built from granite with an orb at the top. Slumped near the bottom arch of the tower was a brutalized corpse. The man was 75. Lonnie Duncan. His form was tall and lanky. His cheeks were sunken in from age and his silver hair was stringy, the ends falling to his shoulders.

His head was tipped forward, causing strands of his hair to fall in front of his face. A dark streak of blood stretched above him. Small trails had rolled down the curve and dried between lines of granite blocks. The effect was a geometric design of interconnected red-rimmed rectangles reaching down below his body.

An older, middle aged woman approached her. Going off of her uniform, Agatha could tell she was in charge. She looked like a sturdy, tough woman. Her thick, strawberry blonde hair was loosely held by an elastic. It puffed out in the back and fell like a squirrel’s tail. Her stature was tall and slightly wide. Agatha could tell she was hiding bulky muscles. Her skin was wind blown, a cranberry hue topping her round cheeks. She uncrossed her arms and extended one out to Agatha.

“Chief Mona Wentworth. Thank you for coming.”

“Agent Agatha Harkness. Hello. I would say good morning, but that would be a little ridiculous here,” Agatha said, testing the waters with the other woman.

Mona didn’t crack a smile. She also didn’t act irritated, but it sent a clear message to Agatha about what sort of woman she was. In truth, it was the type of person she worked best with.

“Yes, well, this is an unusual situation for us. We find bodies off of the trail, but they are typically inexperienced hikers who fell or were victims of fatal accidents. Intentional murders are few and far between.”

“But you have seen them before?”

“Yes. Some were premeditated spousal murders and others were drifters who were either perps or victims. The last was a few years back. It was a couple who was killed and robbed by an unwell individual living in a makeshift camp deep in the woods. We caught him soon after.”

“Could this be something similar?” Agatha asked.

“Not likely. Lonnie is not someone who had enough bad blood to make anyone a clear suspect.”

“All it takes is one.”

“His family members are scattered in different states and he kept to himself beyond a casual conversation,” the Chief said, “No chance for his loved ones to be here at the time of the crime.”

“Alright. What do we know about him?” Agatha asked.

“We know he grew up in New Hampshire. He was an accountant for forty one years following his time serving in Vietnam. Came out here to retire.”

Agatha looked up at his blood staining the memorial.

“One hell of a way to honor a vet.”

Once they had ladders set up, Agatha and Mona ascended for a better look. His button down shirt had been opened to show the killer’s handiwork. Carved into his sunken chest and abdomen was a letter and two numbers. The cuts were relatively fresh, with the excess blood wiped off after death to more clearly show the writing.

Agatha wrote the numbers and letter down in her mind. Her attention was then drawn to the man’s extremities. The cleanliness of his torso was the only self restraint the killer seemed to have. Agatha felt a sense of deja vu at the sight of the jagged slices mutilating every inch of his arms and legs until they were barely recognizable as body parts. She couldn’t find a larger fatal wound. It made her wonder if he had simply been left - or forced - to bleed out from the veins opened up on his wrists or inner thighs. Any one of the countless cuts could have caused a slow death.

“He wasn’t killed here,” Agatha said.

“The blood?” Mona asked with understanding.

“Not enough of it. Just enough for him to he bleeding slightly, but not enough to have him bleed out up here.”

“Could he have been killed in town?” Mona asked.

“No… Too much blood was wet enough to smear and drip down. Not a lot, but enough that his body was still warm when he was lugged up here.”

“The killer must’ve been strong. Carrying dead weight up a ladder like that,” she said.

“You’d be surprised at just how many people know how to handle one correctly. Could the killer have caught him hiking up here?”

“In the middle of the night? No. He had some issues with his leg too. There’s no way he’d be able to hike this high alone and his car isn’t nearby,” Mona said.

His face, much like Herb’s, was a portrait of horror. His mouth hung open and his cloudy eyes stared dead ahead. Frost had crystallized over his hair, eyebrows, and lashes. It looked as if the terror of the man’s final moments were frozen into a mask.

“Huh…”

“What is it?” Mona asked, having a great deal more composure than Westfield’s chief.

“The cuts… gashes… look a lot like some I saw on another victim a couple of weeks ago. And another a few weeks before to that.”

“Wait… so this may be a serial killer’s work?”

“I can’t confirm that. Not yet,” Agatha said as she climbed back down to the ground.

Mona descended and moved over to her, slightly into her personal space. Agatha leaned back just as far out of instinct.

“Do I need to be on alert for a serial killer?” she asked calmly in a low tone.

Agatha could see the concern in Mona’s eyes. She recognized the fear so many felt when they were responsible for a newly traumatized community.

“Look, if it is connected then it won’t happen again in your town. The other two were states apart. I just….” Agatha sighed, “I am going to ask that you keep the idea of a serial killer away from any conversations surrounding this death. Unless we have proof, it will only serve to scare people more than they need to be.”

“Fine. But we cannot keep this murder quiet. Lonnie is a well known person here. I won’t lie about what has happened to him.”

“I’m not asking you to. I just don’t want the rest of the police force wasting time panicking about a larger vendetta while they could be focusing on the crime at hand. You will be the first to know if anything changes,” Agatha assured her.

Mona nodded and walked off. Agatha sighed, a cloud of breath escaping her. She hoped against hope that she was right about the killer not returning.

—————————————————————

Agatha tried to shake the memory of a butchered veteran out of her head as she pulled up to the gym. She needed something to help her leave the day behind before she had a chance to bring it home. Other agents used hobbies, alcohol, or their families to flip that switch. Agatha now used exercise. She found herself escaping more and more often as the job seeped into her mind.

She wasn’t thinking about anything but sweating out the memories as she trained with weights. She felt her arms burning by the time her other reason for her nights at the gym strolled in. She caught her eye as she stood up from the bench, taking a swig of water from her bottle.

“Well, hello there,” Alison said as she walked up to her.

“Hey,” Agatha said back, now feeling even more short of breath than she had been before, “I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, I needed a rest day,” she said, “But I’m flattered you noticed.”

Agatha was sure her face was bright red. Of course she needed a rest day. Normal people who weren’t waiting for their gym crush every night took days off.

The two of them ended up running on treadmills next to one another. Every time Agatha looked at her, she would forget how to speak. She did everything possible to keep herself from acting so affected by her. She kept herself staring ahead as they talked.

“…and then we were denied a permit for our rally,” Alison sighed as the soles of her sneakers pounded away at the black rubber of the machine.

“I mean, that is a dangerous part of Springfield. I wouldn’t want to see what would happen to y-to anyone if something went wrong.”

Alison was about to retort when Agatha’s reply fully processed in her head. She smirked before pressing the speed down.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a tough cookie,” she said.

“Find, fine… but let me know if you ever need someone to back you up.”

Alison gasped dramatically, resting her hand over her heart.

“My own personal guard cop?”

“Agent.”

“As sweet as you are for that, I can’t be at a protest about over policing with someone from the FBI. Even if you would make a beautiful Kevin Costner.”

Agatha shut her mouth and nodded. She did wish she could go to one of her protests, but there was no way she was able to with her job. Even with her support of her fellow law enforcement officers, she knew the system was fundamentally broken and nurtured certain types of dangerous people within it. Every industry had corruption in it, but not every job had life or death stakes with protection against any consequences. While she didn’t always agree with every assumption made, she was happy there were activists like Alison out there.

Once they were finished warming down, they made their way to the locker room. Alison bypassed the lockers and tugged her shirt up. A muscled form was revealed underneath, leaving her in her sports bra. She shed her shorts, leaving them on the bench beside Agatha. Not far from them was a cold dunk tank. Alison climbed in, hissing through her teeth as she lowered her body into the ice water.

Agatha took her time opening her locker. She got her own combination wrong twice. She looked shy beneath her gruff exterior. Each time she gazed at Alison, she would be entranced by a new detail. The shifting of her muscles in her shoulders. The beads of sweat at her temples. The small curl of her baby hairs at the back of her neck. The goosebumps erupting across her skin.

Alison looked up at her, causing the other woman to panic a moment and look back into her locker. Alison’s eyes stayed fixed on her. Wanda’s voice stubbornly stuck in her mind.

“Agatha?”

Agatha closed her locker and turned to look at her, steeling herself.

“Do you want to.. do something together…” Agatha stuttered, “Outside of here.”

“Sure,” Alison said with a little smirk, “What did you have in mind?”

“I mean… we could hang o- uh, go out to dinner?”

“Is that your final answer?” Alison said, arching her brow.

“Yeah, sorry…” Agatha said with a forced laugh and shake of her head.

“Don’t apologize,” Alison said with a serious expression.

She stood up in the cold plunge tub, her eyes fixed on Agatha’s. Agatha swallowed, unable to keep herself from looking. Her gaze raked over Alison’s muscular form that shone with the ice water. Droplets forms and ran down the curves and muscle-cut lines of her body. Her bra and underwear clung to her, soaked from the bath.

She stepped out of it, stalking toward Agatha. She stopped once she was toe to toe with her, her smile now softened.

“Ho ahead. Ask for what you want.”

Agatha was flustered for a moment, scrambling to recover any type of composure.

“I want… to take you out on a date,” Agatha said more clearly and confidently than before.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asked.

She leaned in further, her front pressed to hers. Agatha’s breath caught in her throat, her lips parting as all vestiges of her earlier spike of confidence fell away. Considering her slightly masculine attitude, she was normally the type of woman who took charge while pursuing other women. She held the doors, pulled out the chairs, and made all of the first moves. She wasn’t used to being the one rendered speechless. She wasn’t the type to become flushed or nervous.

Alison reached behind Agatha into her locker, her eyes never leaving hers. She took the other woman’s phone. Still pressed against her, she opened her phone with a 0000 password and put her number in. She stepped back and handed it to her.

“Make sure to change your code. For an FBI agent, your phone was way too easy to unlock,” she said, pulling a towel from her own gym bag, “Text me the details.”

She walked out, heading to the showers. Agatha was left with her phone and a mind that was completely melted.

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