Trigger warning: Suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
I reach the edge of the platform.
No.
Not yet.
No train.
And I can't make this messy.
I've always like this coat.
And these shoes.
They were gifts from Paul.
I don't want them with me, when...
When.
So I take them off.
Carefully.
Carefully.
And I have to make sure that there isn't any question about who I am.
I can't lead anyone in the direction of my family.
So I take my handbag off, and put it down on the ground next to them.
A memorial, of sorts.
A rumbling, rising to a screech.
Good.
Good.
The way forward seems so clear.
Something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.
Movement.
Someone.
A genetic identical.
Family.
Not one I recognise.
I...
It's not important.
Not now.
I turn and walk towards my destiny.
One step.
Two steps.
"No," she shouts from behind me.
Three steps.
Fo-
But, with a sharp tug, I'm falling.
Falling *backwards*.
And everything is moving so slowly...
As the lights of the station and the train rushing past me pinwheel...
And then everything stops as my head hits the concrete.
And then there're just snapshots.
Vomit, pooled underneath me, flecked with half-digested pills.
"No, no hospital," my voice is saying. "No hospital. No more tests."
"Not home. Please, not home."
The lights of the city, seen through a taxi window.
"Look, Fee, I didn't have anywhere else to take her."
A man's voice. "If you could kindly throw up into the bucket beside the bed, I'd be exceedingly grateful."
"Who *are* you?" a woman's voice murmurs.
"Oh great. *You* can take my bed sheets down the laundrette in the morning."
"Open your eyes for Uncle Felix. Reassure us that you haven't died," accompanied by a blinding light.
Darkness.
Blinding light.
Darkness.
Blinding light.
Daylight.
I'm in an unfamiliar bed, and my mind is feeling a little clearer.
A little.
Even if my head is still a little sore.
Not helped by the ringing phone.
My phone.
My phone is ringing in another room.
I roll out of bed and the room spins around me. I manage to catch myself on a wall before I hit the floor.
Again.
Apparently, alcohol and pills and a blow to the head do not mix well.
In the next room, there's a woman and a man.
Vague wispy memories identify the man as Felix.
The woman... I don't know her name, but I know her all the same. Family.
They look over as I enter.
"Your phone's going," Felix says, a little unnecessarily.
My handbag is on a low table in the middle of the room.
I take a breath, and push away from the wall.
One step.
The room spins alarmingly.
But I carry on.
Two steps.
A hand steadies me. My identical's.
"I'm fine," I tell her.
Because I am.
I have to be.
"Yeah," she says, smirking a little. "I could see that."
Irritation threatens to break through my emotional ice.
I take another breath, and try to remember that I *owe* this woman.
I'm not sure it helps.
I give her a tight-lipped smile and, with her still steadying me, I reach the table.
The phone has stopped ringing by this point, but I can tell from the number it's Katja.
My other phone tells me that Art has been trying to get in contact with me and...
And I'll have to handle that too.
But first things first.
I call Katja back.
"Where are you?" she asks in her accented voice. "We were supposed to meet an hour ago."
"Something came up," I tell her tersely.
I can hear her cough over the phone. "I'm outside your apartment at the moment. Shall we meet there?"
A kind of muted panic seizes me. "No," I say. "Let's meet at..." I try to think of a good place. It's something I'm usually good at, but right now it feels like I'm trying to dig through cotton wool.
"Where we met the second time?" she suggests.
"Yes. There." It's out of the way, and we're unlikely to be overseen or overheard. "I'll be there in three hours. Bring the briefcase."
That should give me time to get back to the apartment, shower, change and drive out there.
The apartment.
Our apartment.
*Paul's* apartment.
Oh god.
Paul.
Oh god.
I blink and realise that Katja's hung up.
"You really think you're up to going anywhere?" my identical asks sceptically.
I clench my jaw.
"Yes."
I'm going to have to be.
Because I've got far too much to do, and far too little time to do it.
Like Art and the hearing.
Oh god.
She shrugs, lets me go and I topple sideways. "Sure you're up to it?"
I stare upwards at her. I attempt balefulness, but I'm not quite sure I manage the requisite emotion.
"Watch me," I say, and start to push myself up.
The room greys a little around me.
"Hey," she says. "Hey. Haven't you thought of the obvious solution? I can go in your place."
I look at her for a moment.
Oh.
Of course she can.
This has the feeling of a really bad idea, but I can't seem to find any good arguments against just at the moment.
She's family.
Of course she can go.
And I really don't want to move just yet if I can help it.
I collapse back onto the floor. "You'll need a car. Take mine. It's just outside my apartment." I tell her where the key is, and outline the meeting point. "Get the briefcase, and bring it back. And thank you."
She bends down. "Don't go back to sleep just yet. Let's at least get you back to bed first, since I've gone to the trouble of turfing Felix out of it."
"Hey!" Felix says as she helps me up. "And a thank you wouldn't go amiss," he calls after us.
"Thank you," I murmur.
"Beth?" she asks as I collapse back onto the bed. "We look so much alike. Is there a reason..?" she asks a little tentatively.
"We're family," I say into the pillow. "I'm supposed to protect you."
"Yeah, well, I don't exactly need protecting," she says tartly.
"'S my job," I murmur as darkness claims me once again.
This time it's loud banging that awakens me.
"Felix!" someone shouts. "Felix! Where is she?"
"She's not here," Felix calls. "I haven't seen her for almost a year." From the volume, it's fairly clear that he's decided that having a barrier between him and the other man to be the safer course of action.
From the increasingly loud slams coming from the other room, it appears that the other man disagrees.
My identical may not be here, but it's clear that she values Felix.
And he has been good enough to look after me since...
Well.
I might have to return the favour.
I roll out of bed.
From the way the room *doesn't* blur around me, I must be feeling a lot better.
The ground is even stable beneath my feet.
My clothing is rumpled, to say the least, but there's not very much I can do about that now.
I stick my head my head out of the bedroom to see Felix over by the front door.
Or at least what approximates for a front door in this apartment.
Felix waves frantically in what I assume is an instruction for me to hide myself.
I roll my eyes, and do my best.
It would be a lot easier if the apartment wasn't so... open plan.
There's always under the bed, but that would leave me in a bad position if I *am* discovered.
In the end, I settle for concealing myself behind some canvasses in the bedroom.
I just hope whoever it is doesn't do much more than a cursory inspection.
The thumping is getting louder, and it's starting to be accompanied by some splintering.
"All right, all right," Felix says and there's the sound of metal rasping against metal.
All of a sudden the other man's voice is a lot clearer.
"I know you're hiding her," he says, and there's the sound of something crashing.
"Be careful!" Felix says, then mutters, "Maybe if you weren't such an abusive dick, she wouldn't have run out on you."
I can hear footsteps approach the bedroom, and then the canvasses are wrenched aside.
"There you are, you bitch," the man says, a semi-snarl twisting his lips. He's thickset, well-muscled, with a bloody bandage on the side of his head. "Give me my fucking coke."
I don't really have time to consider his words at the moment, because he's reaching towards me, and he doesn't look like he's going to be reasonable about this.
Adrenaline hits my system, and everything slows down.
He's bigger than me, probably stronger.
I can't afford to turn this into an endurance contest.
A palm strike to his throat slows him down long enough for me to pick up a canvas and hit him in the head with it, edge on.
This gets him down on his knees. I don't have my shoes on, but a couple of heel strikes to the rib serve to get my point across.
"Get out of here," I tell him as he clutches his side and wheezes on the floor. "I don't want to see you again." I look over at Felix, who regarding me with a certain amount of deliberately unaffected amusement. "Help me get him out of here."
Between us, we manage to drag him out of the apartment.
"And don't come back!" Felix calls as we close the door and lock it behind him (with a screwdriver).
Felix takes a few steps away, and looks me up and down. "Well, you *do* seem to be feeling better, don't you?"
I shrug. I don't feel bad at the moment, but I'm probably going to after the adrenaline leaves my system. "What was all that about?"
He looks at me for a moment. "Sarah's ex-boyfriend. Drug dealer and general git."
Sarah.
The name rings a bell.
Sarah Manning. The first name I'd come across when looking for other identicals. I'd made a few, very careful inquiries. I'd been told that she had left the city a few months prior.
I have to admit that I hadn't tried very hard.
She'd had a criminal record for petty fraud, assault, shoplifting.
A few other things.
Not exactly someone I'd want to trust with any level of power over me.
And here I'd given her my hand bag, my cards, my life.
She's not like Cosima, not like Alison.
Not like me.
Not family at all.
Christ.
"So she's decided to get into the business herself?" I ask Felix with a hard edge to my voice. Because drug charges hadn't been a part of her rap sheet, as best I could remember.
He blinks, then narrows his eyes. "How about less of the judging from over there? She not only saved your mangy life, but she dragged you back here because you didn't want to go home and you didn't want to go to a hospital. And she didn't even ask any questions. You know why? Because she's *been* there. She's *needed* that. And you, you in your nice clothes and your comfortable apartment and your bloody middle class life - can you say that you'd have done the same thing?"
Heat suffuses my cheeks and I can't meet his eyes. Because, no, I wouldn't have done that. I've seen too many people ripped off to trust someone with a record that much.
"Thought not. And she's out there, looking after your business. So how about you give her a little less lip and I'll let you wait her until she gets back." He looks at me, his lip curling. "And why don't you have a shower while you're doing that. Because, frankly, you stink."
I don't engage, and just keep looking away, not meeting his eyes.
And I keep quiet as I shuffle into the bedroom area.
Because, yes, he's right. Sarah did save me from... From.
And she did look after me.
But, judging from her boyfriend, she's not above stealing even from people she's living with.
And I, *we*, need what's in that case.
I just hope that she doesn't throw it away when she finds out it isn't anything valuable. To her, at least.
And I keep quiet because staying here, staying close to Felix, seems like the best way to make sure that I see her again.
And I keep quiet because he's right. I do stink.
The shower gives me time to relax.
The shower also gives me time to think.
With... with last night, I'm not sure that either of these things are a good idea right now.
Especially not with the effects of the pills winding down.
Especially not here.
But would elsewhere really be any better?
Elsewhere like the apartment.
I take a deep breath, trying not to notice that it's shuddering a little.
I don't know, I tell myself. I don't have proof.
I've got other problems anyway.
One thing at a time.
One step at a time.
I get out of the shower, dry myself.
Felix has scrounged some clothes from somewhere. They're very... Sarah, from what I've seen of her. Not me at all.
Unsurprisingly, they fit.
Okay, then.
I head for the living room.
Felix, already resident on the sofa, looks up briefly. "Bloody hell," he says. "If I didn't know better..."
I feel my face tense a little, because comparisons to Sarah are really *not* what I'm looking for right at the moment.
He rolls his eyes ostentatiously, then looks away.
I sit down next to him.
The silence is awkward, to say the least, but neither of us seems inclined to break it.
The landline, when it rings, comes as something of a relief.
Felix grabs it, holds it to his ear.
"What!" he says, then twists to look at me. "Yeah, she's right here." He hands me handset. "Here. You can deal with this."
I take it. "Hello?"
"You didn't mention that you were a cop," an identical's voice snaps at me. It takes me a moment to realise who this is, who this must be.
Whatever else she may be, Sarah is an *excellent* mimic.
"You didn't ask," I return automatically. "Also, it isn't as though we've really had time to swap life stories." For instance, about your drug dealing ex-boyfriend who came around looking for the product you stole. "Why is this important?"
"Because I've only been grabbed by your partner. Apparently there's a small matter of a hearing you were supposed to attend today."
My blood runs cold.
My hearing.
How could I have forgotten about my hearing?
I get a close-up of my knees, and realise that I've started rocking sometime in the last... however long.
Okay.
Let's break this down.
"You're at the precinct now?" I ask.
Let's see how much trouble I'm.
Let's see how I can try and salvage this.
"In the toilets, no less."
Great.
Well, I'm not going to be able to get there in time.
Even if I could get into suitable clothing, which I can't.
"There's no way I can coach you through this in the time we have."
"I thought as much. Look, would you have any problems with me just getting this whole thing called off for today?"
That's pretty much the only thing I can think of. "How?" I ask cautiously.
"Oh, I've got an idea or two," she says, and I can almost see the grin on her face. There's a noise in the background. "Damn. Got to go. Trust me, okay," she says, and hangs up.
I'm left looking at the handset, and wondering if I'm still going to have a job tomorrow.
Sorry, Art, I think, sparing a thought for my partner who has done so much for me. And who probably thinks that I've gone mad.
I'll be better tomorrow.
I hope.
I put the phone down, and turn to look at Felix, who has been regarding me with a raised eyebrow and a faintly outraged air.
"And you didn't mention this to me before - why?"
I shrug. "Don't worry. I'm not vice."
"Well *that* makes me feel a lot better, thank you very much."
I just look at him impassively, and he shakes his head. "Mrs S would bloody kill me if she knew that I'd been offering aid and comfort to one of the filth."
"Thanks," I say dryly. Then I shake my own head. I really am being something of a shit about this. "Look, I really am grateful for this." Even if you did both get to see me when... I wasn't at my best. "Don't worry, I'm not going to mention anything that I might have seen here."
"It's the least you can do," he says, sniffing a little, then cracks a grin. "And I guess I did get to see Vic being beaten up quite professionally. That's worth something." A cautious look crosses his face. "You're not going to turn him in, either, are you?"
I hadn't been planning on it - Vic had too many ties to Sarah - but I adopt a neutral expression. "It's my job to. Why?" I ask.
"He's a dick, but he doesn't deserve that," he says. "Besides, you heard him. Sarah stole from him, and she can't get involved in any investigation. Not now. You owe her at least that much."
"Not now?"
His face closes. "You're going to have to ask her about that, I'm afraid."
Nice to know. "Okay," I tell him. "My lips are sealed."
"Really?" he asks, looking more than a little doubtful. "Simple as that?"
"Simple as that," I say. "You're right. I owe you."
"Thanks," he says, smiling a little.
"Not a problem."
And, really, at this point, not telling someone in Vice about Vic is the least of my sins.
The things I must do, to keep my family safe.
The things I have done.
The things I have to keep on doing.
If only there was an end in sight.
After that, conversation happens.
A little.
He tries to probe me about my life - and especially about any link I might have with Sarah.
I tell him a little - a little - about the former, but just give him an even look and say the latter is something I'm going to have to talk over with her first.
And then I return the favour.
He's likewise reticent, but he does tell me about growing up in the UK foster system, that he and Sarah were adopted then later taken to Canada.
Some of it I already know. But now I've got an excuse for that knowledge.
And, in any case, silence at the moment would be harder.
This way I don't have to face last night.
This way I don't have to fret about what Sarah is doing to my life right now.
This way I don't have to worry about where she is *right now* and why she hasn't made it back or been in contact *already*, damnit.
And then the phone rings again.
This time I'm the first person to reach it, pick it up.
It's Sarah.
"She's dead," she says, almost sobbing. "Katja's dead. She's dead."