Not Quite OOM

[theresnodoor]

It's about space and time.

And how neither pass, when you spend your days in Milliways.

And nights.

And mornings.

And evenings.



Rachel copes. She doesn't live, she doesn't thrive. She just copes. Gymnastics and magazines and people who pass in and out of the door. The occasional trip to the Labyrinth - with company - and the effort she goes to in order to make sure no one notices just how often she walks into it herself.

Sleeping in a bed with a hawk perched nearby, pretending she can't feel the way he watches her.

Pretending she has nothing to hide from him, not anymore.



But today?

Today Rachel is swimming in the lake. It's a good day for it. Nice and sunny, even outside the Caribbean beach. The water is cool but it's easy to get used to. And Bar even gave her a nice one piece.

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[alwaysroomforhope]

She's not alone. The sun's warm, comfortable, easy. Steph's tired, bone-achingly tired, her bad arm twinging painfully and her heart heavy. There's just so much stuff to deal with out there.

But here, now, there's just swimming, the lapping of the lake, the occasional splashes that indicate someone else in the water far enough away not to be a concern. And peace.

By the time she pulls herself out of the lake, sitting on the pebbled shore to dry herself off, she's calm again, face serene. If far too old for her age.

[theresnodoor]

That's not always rare, here.

Rachel isn't lapping so much as just moving. Swimming was never a serious sport for her. So when she pauses at one end of the lake, she's not breathing terribly hard, and has the presence of mind to look around.

To see, and recognize, Steph.

...and then to tread water for a bit, thoughtfully. Remembering the last time they'd talked.

[alwaysroomforhope]

It's been a while since then. Steph's been in and out. Not often, not full time. But in and out. Here and there.

She hasn't tried to talk to Rachel again.

She isn't trying now. Just drying her hair off, pulling on an oversized, shapeless hoodie, and ... sitting, tired. Watching the waves. Lost in another world.

[theresnodoor]

Rachel hasn't given her much opportunity. Hasn't wanted to.

Mostly because it might include another apology. And, even more likely, it might include more yelling on Rachel's part.

She's hesitant. And doesn't try to hide herself as she swims over, in case Steph is hesitant, too.

[alwaysroomforhope]

The second Rachel moves towards Steph, instead of in patterns, she is noticed, of course. Steph's good at noticing threats.

Or maybe not threats. Maybe just girls who Steph kind of suspects she has a lot in common with.

She waves, cautiously. Friendly and open.

[theresnodoor]

Which gets her to stop again. Just for a moment. Confused.

By the friendliness, mostly.

Rachel waves back, equally cautious. If for entirely different reasons.

[alwaysroomforhope]

Oh, good. Probably she's not about to get attacked, then.

"I Have a spare towel, if you want," she calls, helpful. If still a little wary.

[theresnodoor]

"...yeah, okay."

If Steph wants to pretend Rachel didn't try to haul her across the bar last time they met, that's-- all right.

She supposes.

Rachel swims over, kicking in short bursts. Pulling herself up onto land isn't nearly as hard as walking closer to Steph.

It would be easier to walk away. And not have to remember those same echoing words.

I was dead.

[alwaysroomforhope]

It was all a bit simpler when that was true, too.

Steph doesn't watch her towelling off, most of her attention still on the ripples of the lake, the occasional distant sploosh of the giant squid sloshing about. Only a minimum on the girl next to her.

(Just enough. For a ... a ... a not-a-Bat. Whatever she is now.)

After a while, she does glance up. "How's things?"

Things like ... everything?

[theresnodoor]

Rachel wraps the towel around her shoulders, pulling her hair out so it doesn't keep dripping down her back.

After a long pause, she sits beside Steph and watches the lake, too.

Super great. Totally fantastic. Awesome.

"Fine."



"You?"

[alwaysroomforhope]

Steph looks over at her, and for the first time a tiny grin is quirking her too-serious face.

"Oh, you know. Fine."

It's funny because of what they're not saying, even though it's hanging in the air so loudly all around them.

Giggling is a possibility here.

[theresnodoor]

The tone of her words tipped Rachel off first, too light, too silly.

Glancing over and catching sight of that tiny grin...

Yeah, Rachel has a tiny smile of her own.




Okay. Maybe some giggles, too.

[alwaysroomforhope]

Maybe more in common than just horrific deaths, Steph realises, and finds her tiny grin becoming warmer, happier. Not forced, now.

"You know," she offers, "if you get enough of a run-up, you can jump from some of the balconies up there right into the lake. it's way more fun than talking about the weather. Which was totally next on my list of Kinda Awkward Conversational Gambits."

[theresnodoor]

Rachel glances at her again, smile fading.

She knows exactly how far you can jump from those balconies.

Though she hadn't hit the lake that time.

"Is leaping off of tall buildings part of that list?" she asks, forcing her smile back, tight but present.

Amused, part of her.

Wondering, maybe. About a dead-once-dead girl. With a love for adrenaline.

[alwaysroomforhope]

Steph's smile is a little bit wistful as she looks up at the building, picking out the room that used to be hers, moving along to the room that she shares with Kita now. It's mostly full of ghosts. Her stuff and Kita's stuff, scattered around where Indy used to make waffles, where Goldy brought her daughter, where Mel -- Steph tries not to think about Mel. Ghosts of people who aren't even dead, just ... gone, and she doesn't really have much hope that they'll be back.

"... I keep forgetting it's not part of everyone's list," she remarks, with a little grin. "It should be. It's fun."

[theresnodoor]

"...I know."

She does. That night is on her mind a lot, wondering what other morphs could be used. She'd never thought about landing as a human, but if Steph could reach the lake, there's no reason why Rachel couldn't.

So long as they use a balcony that isn't her own. Isn't one she shares.

"Yeah, it- it sounds fun. Let's do it."

[alwaysroomforhope]

"Oh, I - I didn't mean we should ..." Steph stumbles, words caught in her throat, hesitating over a face-saving lie.

Then she ditches it, unspoken. Why bother?

"It was wishful thinking. I can't do it. Yet." She waves at her leg. In swimsuit and hoodie, her legs are bare - and although they're faded, pale, the scars are still there, running up and down her skin, clustered at the back of one knee. "Can't run fast enough to jump. Yet."

The yet is very important to her.

[theresnodoor]

"Oh."

She tries not to stare. She gets so far as glancing before forcing her gaze away. The wave of that hand or not, those are scars from a girl who was in a war.

You just don't stare at those. Ever.

"Swimming's easier?" Rachel asks, watching the water.

[alwaysroomforhope]

Steph nods, and there's appreciation for Raxhel's care in the smile she gives the other warrior.

"Speed doesn't matter. And there's more resistance. I'm so close to being able to run again, so close, but not close enough for roof-jumping just yet. It's been a while."

[theresnodoor]

"So what do you do?"

[alwaysroomforhope]

"At the moment?"

Steph shrugs, with a tiny smile.

"I wait. Not sure for what. I'm kind of out of the fight, and I don't ... really know what I'm meant to do with that."

[theresnodoor]

"No, I mean, like..."

Rachel smiles, slight, glancing over.

"Do. Like, daily. Since the old options are out."

[alwaysroomforhope]

"Oh, right." Steph grins, dismissing her own confusion with a handwave. "I'm, um, nursing. In Kenya. We go from village to village bringing medicines and giving vaccinations and stuff. I think Lesley's trying to make me into a healer instead of a fighter."

She picks up a pebble in her left hand, bounces it once or twice on her palm, and then flicks it out across the glassy surface of the lake. Seven, eight, nine skips before it sinks. No hesitations or sense of performance on Steph's part. Just a girl, skipping stones.

"I'm not sure it's working, honestly."

[theresnodoor]

Rachel can take a running jump and leap off a balcony.

But she can't skip a stone like that.

"...it doesn't sound like it would," she admits, quiet but firm. "I don't... I don't think people change like that."

[alwaysroomforhope]

"I thought maybe I could at first," Steph says, flicking another pebble. Exactly the same direction, distance, and skips as the one before. Exactly. "But I'm itching to ... I don't know. Not back to Gotham, probably. Everyone I knew thinks I'm dead. Maybe Nairobi needs a Batman."

She's only mostly joking.