(no subject)

[belphe]

Who:   Belle and Lazarus
When: 3/23 late evening
Where:   The apartment
What:    Belle recovers an item from a pulse, L sees potential for opportunity in it


It had been quite a day.    After her morning appointment, Belle had set aside an hour to place reminder calls to her semi-regular patients, only to realize that her planner containing their phone numbers and notes about their cases was nowhere to be found.   Checking the entirety of her office, the car, and asking her coworkers had not turned up any signs of it and trying to recall the last time she remembered looking at it had conjured only memories of leafing through it briefly just before entering the coffee shop Lazarus had asked her to meet him at before the attack on the city.  

Her thoughts, throughout the day, kept returning to Expresso Yourself as she tried to remember whether she had seen or used the planner since going there, only to find that she could not recall.   The idea of it sitting among the wreckage, waiting for some city worker to discover it and invade information that was not theirs had made itself at home in her head as hours passed, needling at her more and more.    By the time five rolled around, she had started to wonder if it might be possible to go and check for it.

By seven, she had made her decision, and by seven-thirty, she was parking her rented volkswagon as close to the wreck that had once been the coffee shop as she was able.   The ceiling having been removed meant no immediate threat of cave-ins, which went a long way toward encouraging her to pick her way toward the collapsed mess that had once been a back hallway.  If her planner was anywhere, she'd reasoned, it would be in the back "office".     ....however, her efforts at making progress had been prematurely abandoned at the sound of nearby footsteps on the pavement.    A look outside had found a roving officer training his flashlight's beam over her car. 

Belle of a few months ago would have readily stepped out to meet him, explained what she was doing, and asked for help.     However, this Belle - the one who was aware of secret numbers, impossible powers and forms, and who had narrowly escaped grievous injury twice-over in the last two months by means she could not explain,  had gone with an impulse.    As the officer had swept his flashlight's beam into the coffee shop, she had hidden from him.   As he'd advanced, she'd retreated, carefully matching his steps with her own to remain out of sight.    Their brief game of cat-and-mouse had ended abruptly when his radio had crackled to life with an officer requesting relief from his guard post in the downtown area.    Her would-be pursuer had, thankfully, stepped out of the wreckage to offer to be there shortly.

As they discussed the specifics, Belle had continued to back away, slipping out of Expresso Yourself entirely by way of a broken wall, across a narrow alleyway, and into the toppled husk of its neighboring building.    There had been a stairway leading downward and she'd taken it, relying on her instincts to lead her somewhere safe. 

The basement level of the building was dark, but not nearly as damaged as the upper floors had ended up.   Employing her phone's screen as a flashlight, Belle had found herself in a long, dark hallway, serenaded by the backdrop of a broken pipe's running water.

Behold the sweetfish river running through my beloved hometown.

The words had surfaced in her head so deliberately, she had startled, wheeling around to see if someone had spoken to her.

You who seek the Golden Land, follow its path downstream in search of the key

She had stood there, stark-still in the darkness for several minutes trying to make sense of it.   There was no river, and no "downstream" unless...

At the end of the hallway had been a door, hanging slightly ajar.  Under normal circumstances, she would have found it offputting, but present ones drew her to it, wondering if something within might provide her an answer as she'd traveled the length of the hall.    Instead, waiting to greet her on the other side, had been a jumble of custodial tools, spilled chemicals, and various other debris.    Disappointment had welled in her, realizing it hadn't even been worth getting her hopes up over. 

It wasn't until she'd turned to shut the door again that she'd seen it.   On top of the overturned janitor's cart, something that she was sure hadn't been there a moment ago, glinted in the dim light her phone offered.     It was an easily-recognized object she'd seen countless times in cartoons and movies, but never in person.   The gold bar shone proudly, devoid of dust or debris, as if it had been put there for her to find it.  

In the end, her planner had been completely forgotten, and she'd returned home with it cradled in her jacket.      Current circumstances found her in the living room, with the gold ingot placed on the coffee table in front of her, staring at it intently, and realizing that now that she'd gotten it home, she had no idea what to do next.

She didn't want to entertain the idea that it might be real, as that would present an entirely new set of problems for her.    With the city in disarray and people displaced from their businesses (some from their homes, most probably) something like this was very dangerous to have.   A finger reached out to trace the engraved figure on its face.   It looked to be a one-winged bird...or at least a bird being shown at an awkward angle.    As for how it related to her...

....well, she had no idea.

 

Comments

[dead_black_eyes]

L was getting fed-up with the slow and inexact process of recovering from a concussion. Bed rest was important and called for, of course, and it at least provided a good excuse for not talking to his therapist following the awkward and upsetting conversation in the clinic. They were cordial, if avoidant toward one another.

Without his job at Espresso Yourself, he was almost always home, and so the evening Belle returned with the gold ingot, it was the first thing he saw when he padded out to the living room after hearing her return, hoping for dinner but stopping dead in his tracks at the yellow, gleaming hunk of meta on the coffee table.

"Is... that what it looks like?"

[belphe]

She drew her finger back quickly at the sound of Lazarus' voice, having been so engrossed in what she'd brought home, she'd entirely forgotten that he was currently out of a job.

"I..." she paused to clear her throat, belatedly realizing how dry it had gone as she turned her attention back to it warily. "I don't know. Hopefully not."

[dead_black_eyes]

"Hopefully not?" he echoed in disbelief, crossing the room and lifting it, impressed by its weight. "This is... where did you get it? Was it a pulse? If this is real, do you have any idea of how much it's worth?"

He squinted, adjusting his hold so he could raise it to his mouth. His teeth left tiny indentations in the soft, genuine gold, and he bounded toward the kitchen after noting it, moving to take down the vinegar.

[belphe]

"I think it was a pulse, yes, and it--"

Too late, he was already loping off across the apartment with it.

"L, what are you--be careful...!!"

At this stage in his recovery, he wasn't even supposed to be bending over suddenly or walking quickly let alone running around like a madman.

[dead_black_eyes]

He listened about as well as he usually did to such warnings, which was to say minimally, if at all. He was dumping vinegar into the sink, getting some on a dishcloth and dabbing at the ingot with it.

"Nothing's happening," he reported giddily, leaving the vinegar open and out on the counter and whisking off to the bathroom. If Belle followed, she'd find him rubbing the corner of the ingot on the porcelain finish of the toilet.

[belphe]

Why was this her life...?

At least, once he was in the bathroom, it was easier to corner him as she placed herself firmly in the doorway.

"You're going to hurt yourself."

[dead_black_eyes]

He sat back against the wall, staring at the gold streak marring the toilet Belle had just cleaned not 24 hours earlier.

"It's real. It's definitely real."

[belphe]

Was it...? Well. That was just wonderful.

She should have been elated to suddenly receive a windfall like this, but all she could summon, presently, was a weary upset.

"I don't know what it has to do with me, or who I'm echoing back." she said somberly. "...but it can't stay here. If anyone finds out I have something like this..."

[dead_black_eyes]

L pressed the pad of his thumb against his mouth, thinking it over.

"I could make a couple phone calls. I know someone who would buy this from you, not too far below market price. There'd be a handling fee, but if this is as pure as it seems to be, it'd be worth a lot."

[belphe]

"Who are they?" she questioned. She wasn't sure how much she trusted someone able to buy gold at the drop of a hat...assuming Lazarus and his method of "testing" was to be believed. anyway.

And, for as much as she didn't want the thing in her apartment, existing as something that needed to be constantly kept hidden and fretted over, she wondered how important it might be to whoever had summoned it back to this world.

[dead_black_eyes]

"Just someone I know," L said vaguely. "You're clearly uncomfortable owning this, so... you should let me take care of it."

[belphe]

The vagueness said clearly enough this was not someone she wanted to know where they lived.

...and certainly not someone she wanted L haring off to see while he was still in a compromised state.

"I'd like to at least know that they can be trusted not to take advantage of you. Seeing them pull you out of an alley on the news is not how I'd prefer to cap off recent events."

[dead_black_eyes]

"You worry so much," L said, tone half-wondering. "At any rate...this person owes me. He wouldn't hurt me for money, especially if he stands to profit, too."

And as long as L was alive, Mack did, indeed, stand to profit. Every day carried the possibility of very profitable relapse.

March 24, Evening

[dead_black_eyes]

The night before had been trying enough, but L was currently in a world of trouble, and it had nothing to do with gold, or cash, or the law.

It had everything to do with a tiny packet of white powder that had been nestled in with the cash, along with a note reading, simply, gratis.

He'd done everything in his power to distract himself from the fact that it existed in the same space he did, pacing around it, putting things on top of it, burying his face in his hands to avoid looking at it. The obvious solution, of course, was throwing it away; it was also an impossible solution.

You need to get rid of that shit. Don't wait.

Ray had been right, and despite what L had committed to, he'd waited, and it was a mistake. He felt accountable, he felt like he needed to hold to his word... but his phone kept ringing, and Mack kept offering to drop what he was doing, and L couldn't gather the conviction to take anything all the way.

So he waited.

Finally, he gritted his teeth, counted, and used his foot to nudge the packet out of his room, across the hall, and into the bathroom, where his conviction flagged again. He'd thought that it would be easier to take the step he had to when he was closer to a means of disposal, but it turned out it was even more difficult. So he sat on the tile, facing his vice and willing it to disappear on its own.

[belphe]

Belle had tried, again, to press him for details about the exchange between himself and Mack that morning before she'd needed to leave for work with no success. When she'd come home, he'd been closed up in his room...so she had gone about her evening routine in solitude, finishing up her notes and casework from the day's appointments, and getting dinner going.

It was shaping up to be a very quiet evening....right up until she headed into the bathroom with a towel and a change of clothes for her evening shower and nearly tripped over her housemate as he huddled on the tile.

"Lazarus..." the mild annoyance deflated out of her tone just as quickly as it had surfaced as she took in the sickly shade of his face, and the grim, intense way he seemed focused on the toilet bowl. "....are you all right?" she asked, lowering herself to be eye level with him as she reached out to place the back of a hand on his brow, suspecting illness.

[dead_black_eyes]

His breath caught as her foot brushed the packet where it lay less than a foot away from his curled form.

"Yes," he said uncertainly, lowering his head, half-hoping she'd notice it, and half-hoping she'd leave it where it lay to torment him further.

Hell, maybe she'd figure that Mack had poison him and whisk away to dial an emergency number, leaving him with his painful decisions.

[belphe]

When he did not focus on her, but on something beyond her, Belle's eyes, reflexively, followed L's own...directly to the small baggie of white powder that was lurking beneath the toilet.

The sight of it, and L's current condition made her heart sink as she reached out to pick it up, tweezed between her fingertips like something unimaginably filthy.

"...is this what he gave you in trade?"

[dead_black_eyes]

"It was a gift," L said truthfully. "But... I just found it this morning. I didn't know about it at the time. I've been trying to get rid of it for hours, but..." he trailed off, the evidence of his failure only too clear.

[belphe]

The urge to drop it in the toilet bowl and hit the flusher herself was near to overwhelming, though she forcibly abstained, settling onto the floor alongside him instead.

"L, tell me about the things you've gained these last couple of months. Just...as they come to mind, things that got better for you after coming here."

[dead_black_eyes]

He gripped his hair at the dark roots as well as he could with one dysfunctional hand.

"My echoes? Are you asking me about my echoes?" he asked, a distracted edge to his tone.

[belphe]

"No." she said gently. "Just, in general, things that used to be difficult in your life that are now easier for you."

[dead_black_eyes]

He drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying and failing to catch the residual scent of Lysol.

"You know. Just... it's been safer. I sleep better at night. I have some... friends. You make food for us, and I've got... a, a future. Like I didn't before. I'm a detective."

[belphe]

"That's right." Belle replied, giving him a faint smile. "A home, a job, friends, a future...and none of that has to change."

The smile smoothed away into a more serious look as she held up the baggie. "That in mind...look at this, now. Tell me the things that what's in here is able to give you."

[dead_black_eyes]

Relief...

The urges to reach for the bag and swat it away were equally strong, resulting in the wearisome default of inaction.

"I don't want it. I know it's just... temporary. That it'll hurt me in the long term, but... it's been hurting me all day, Belle. It's here and I can't get rid of it."

[belphe]

"You of two years ago can't...but you right now could." she gently corrected. "That man that you used to be is always going to be there...and is always going to want what's familiar and comforting to him. He is always going to want to destroy the both of you...

...because he believes that you are no better than what's in here." Dark eyes shifted to the baggie she held before him.