-1-
Mia has never audited a class before, so she shows up fifteen minutes early to her criminal law course. Nervousness and caffeine both buzz through her. She knows the class is not for credit, but the fear of being laughed out of the room motivates her more than the threat of failing. She has already done the readings for the week, her messy handwriting scrawling out notes in the margins, and her planner is color-coded with assignments pulled from the syllabus.
The girl who sits next to her is every bit as prepared, and she answers the professor's questions quicker than Mia can get her hand up. Perhaps Mia is merely over-competitive, or perhaps the other girl feels the rivalry between them, too, because by the second class, they fight even more fiercely for the professor's approval. The other students stare, but Mia doesn't care.
The girl is named Lana Skye, and she is a third-year trying to finish her distributionals before graduation. She bites her nails and works two jobs on top of class. She is pretty, albeit in an austere sort of way, although she looks older than twenty-three. Mia doesn't know if she likes Lana or can't stand her, but the competition is definitely on. Their debates spill over after class, both picking at little threads from prior cases and chasing down stray pieces of information from their lectures. Lana is calm as fresh snow when she talks, while Mia is too passionate, too personally invested in cases long closed and people long dead.
By the end of the week, everyone in the class knows both of their names, and the professor sports a nasty headache.
-2-
They have an essay to write, a twelve-page monster, and Mia knows she has to outmatch Lana on it. Lana grins an odd eyes-closed grin, lifting the thought from Mia's brain without even trying. She feels a nervous giddiness—her first real test against this prosecutor-to-be—and it makes her heart race. She already knows what case she wants to write about, and she tells Lana as much as they leave class.
"DL-6, hm?" Lana says as they walk to lunch. "I can't say I remember all the police codes. Can you jog my memory?"
"State v Yogi, 2001," Mia replies. She feels her heart rate preemptively quicken, but she won't let it stop her.
"That's the case with the woman who claimed she could talk to ghosts, right? Why would you want a case like that?" Lana asks, her face scrunching up in confusion.
"...That spirit medium was my mother," Mia answers quietly.
Lana looks at her with something akin to pity, and Mia wants to shout at her. She doesn't, though (she never shouts at the people who doubt her mother), but she musters all the fierceness she can and glares back.
"Oh," the other girl says simply. "Whatever defense attorney could argue a case like that would have to be a real ace."
"Well, Prosecutor Skye, you've met your ace attorney," she returns, and Lana grins.
-3-
Mia spends every waking moment in the library, poring over copies of police reports and case summaries, old precedents and rare articles on spirit channeling. The former has mountains of information, but it is hard to find legitimate sources about the latter, especially following DL-6. She knows enough on her own to write a book on the stuff, but finding citeable references is a good bit harder; she works with what she has, though she grinds her teeth and scowls the whole time.
Lana sits in the same room, reading over her own case—something more normal, a double homicide in the Midwest. She chats idly with Mia when they both become too bored to continue going. Lana doesn't ask any more about spirit mediums or DL-6, letting up on her usual unshakeable pursuit. She talks mostly about herself, about her little sister, Ema, and about the tiny apartment they share on the outskirts of campus.
"Our parents died in a car crash," she explains. Her voice doesn't waver—just the facts, no personal investment, ready to be a perfect prosecutor. Mia understands as well as she can.
"My father walked out on us, and my mother disappeared after DL-6," she offers in return, her heart still heavy after nine years of bitterness.
Lana nods, and they share a sad smile before returning to their studies.
-4-
They have an exam next week, and their competition only heats up more. Mia finds herself coming home at hours so late the fluorescent bulbs in the dorm hall compete with the slow burn of the rising sun. She lives in the library, bent over a half dozen textbooks for criminal law and her other courses. Lana studies with her, although she never stays later than six; she has to cook dinner for Ema, test or no test.
That Friday, she invites Mia home with her. Ema reminds her a lot of Maya, except Ema couldn't care less about the supernatural and she minds her sister a hell of a lot more than Maya does. They don't talk law over dinner or dishes, but they do after Ema has been put to bed. The sisters share a bedroom, exiling Lana's studying to the worn couch in the common area.
"I guess you don't bring many guys back here, huh?" Mia jokes as she settles onto the sofa beside her.
"No, I don't. Ema doesn't need me behaving like that," Lana replies.
"You're not her mother, you know. You deserve to live, too."
Lana only shakes her head and changes the subject back to their exam.
Mia wakes up the next day on that lumpy couch, her law books stacked neatly on the coffee table and a quilt draped over her shoulders. She doesn't remember getting a blanket, and she certainly doesn't remember cleaning up her textbooks.
Mia laughs to herself and smiles at her friend's unexpected gentleness.
-5-
Lana beats her on the paper by three whole points, and it's enough to dim Mia's enthusiasm over acing the test. Lana doesn't gloat, but she doesn't offer condolences, either—she won fair and square. They eat lunch out on the quad together and enjoy the uncharacteristically warm weather. Lana slips while peeling an apple with her pocketknife, but other than a sharp intake of breath, she doesn't make a sound.
"Are you okay?" Mia asks, heart racing at the sight of blood.
"I'm fine," Lana says, but she sucks on her injured finger and grimaces. "I should've been paying more attention to the knife and less to you."
"Me?" Mia exclaims.
"...You were talking, remember?"
"Oh, of course," she replies, but she can't shake the feeling that Lana is hiding something. She clutches her magatama as if to draw out Lana's secrets with it, but of course that's just an old Kurain superstition.
Lana's eyes follow the movement with predatory intensity.
"Even an amateur prosecutor will pick up on a tell like that," she chides gently.
"I'm not the one who cut up her hand, Ms. Prosecutor," Mia returns. It is their usual banter, playing at courtroom war, and Lana just shakes her head.
"Point," she concedes, and it makes Mia feel a little better about her paper.
-6-
They're assigned another paper, and Mia is more determined than ever to beat Lana. The two of them sit in their usual corner of the library as they hunt for good material.
"You're not going to write about more occult stuff, are you?" Lana asks as Mia skims Fantastic and Unusual Trials of the Twentieth Century.
"No, I'm not. I don't even know of any other cases pertaining to spirit channeling beyond DL-6, anyway," she replies.
"...I know it's your mother we're talking about, but you can't really believe in that magic nonsense, can you?"
Mia sighs wearily, the weight of a thousand voices asking the same thing bowing her shoulders.
"Lana, it's not that simple. It isn't a question of belief or disbelief. I've seen it, and I've done it. I've channeled the spirit of a dead woman through myself. You sort of have to accept something as fact after an experience like that," she says, and she knows she sounds equal parts desperate and snappish.
Lana's expression breaks at her words.
"Can you do it for me? Can you...can you call my mother?" she asks, voice quiet and pleading.
It nearly kills Mia to speak.
"...No. Spirit channeling takes constant practice and training, and...I haven't tried it since I left for college. I couldn't channel anyone like this."
"I see," Lana murmurs, but it's clear that she doesn't.
"I'm sorry. I wish I could. I really do," Mia says. She feels powerless as always, powerless to stop her mother from leaving, powerless to save her village's reputation, powerless to keep her own family together. Spirit channeling cannot give her the bite that law can; she needs her books and evidence to make a mark on the world. Mia tries to put some of that sentiment into her eyes, but Lana does not look up from her book.
-7-
Neither of them mention the incident in the library the following Monday. They turn in their papers and go to lunch together as if nothing ever happened, but Mia can feel an undercurrent of tension between them. It's enough to make her want to scream that she hasn't done anything wrong, but she cannot bring herself to yell at Lana. The other girl is slightly muted, just enough to show, and she is uncharacteristically quiet in class.
Mia finally snaps Friday afternoon, as they sit on the quad.
"What is your problem?" she demands.
Lana arches one delicate eyebrow.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Bullsh—er, objection!" Mia quickly corrects. "Look, I'm sorry I'm a failure as a spirit medium, but can you blame me? After DL-6, we were branded frauds, liars, freaks! I was twelve, for God's sake! Why the hell would I want to inherit that? You have to know that I would help if I could. I'm not doing it just to spite you."
For the first time in Mia's recollection, Lana looks truly perplexed, her mouth hanging half open.
"Ema came down with strep throat," she says slowly. "You...actually thought I was mad at you?"
If Mia could disappear off the face of the planet, she would. She swallows hard.
"Oh. I...The, er, defense rests," she stammers, subdued.
Lana heaves a sigh and smiles that eyes-closed smile of hers.
"The prosecution also rests on the grounds that the defense is cute when she's flustered."
Mia is left pondering her words for the rest of the day. She gets a feeling of vague unease whenever she recalls them, but she cannot quite figure out what Lana means.
-8-
Mia spends the next week scrutinizing Lana like a witness during cross-examination, searching for any sign that there was another meaning behind those words last Friday.
She notices a kaleidoscope of things about Lana Skye that she hadn't before, like how she often touches Mia on the shoulder or elbow or how she looks up and to her left whenever she's hiding something. She also notices how Lana always seems to be staring at her whenever she looks up, and how Lana holds a smile a breath too long after a joke that isn't that funny. Mia knows what the logical conclusion is, but she must be wrong, she thinks. She just needs to examine the facts more closely.
It doesn't help. No matter how many times she thinks things over, she remains as stumped as ever. Mia sits on Lana's couch that Friday evening, listening to Ema whine about not liking her medicine, and hearing Lana's soft but insistent reply. Mia wonders if the same girl who makes top marks in their class and takes such good care of her sister is also into women, into her. She doesn't want to believe it. She wants to just stay friends with Lana, to share a hundred lunches on the quad and a hundred evenings in that musty corner of the library, talking and laughing and trading mock-courtroom banter. She doesn't want that ruined by some big awkward thing between them.
It doesn't have to be, a voice in her head whispers as Lana's light laugh drifts over the room. Don't you like her, too?
Yes. No. Maybe. Lana is so very dear to her—but I'm not gay, she thinks, and there it is.
Lana comes back with a smile on her face that falters as she sees Mia.
"Is something the matter?" she asks, sweet and caring as only Lana is.
"No, not at all," Mia replies, but the lie tastes bitter in her mouth.
-9-
Mia doesn't sleep much that week, her thoughts spinning in tired, tractionless circles. She still doesn't know if she's right with her hunch or not. Maybe she's running herself ragged over a silly thought. She doesn't want to say a word until she's worked herself out, though. She beats Lana's score on their paper, but she's too preoccupied to even care.
She lies in bed as the hours tick by, staring up at the ceiling and hoping the solution to her problems will suddenly appear on the plain white plaster as if scrawled by the hand of God. She is only twenty-one, and she feels far too young to be burdened by such concerns.
"Think though the facts, Fey," she mutters to herself. She know she likes men, likes the feeling of being pinned beneath a muscular body, likes brushing a kiss against a stubbled jaw, likes resting against a strong flat chest. Mia is sure of that.
Lana is made of different stuff, of soft curves and long hair, of whiskey and the bite of wind on a cold winter morning. She cares so much and works so hard to hold her little world together, balancing family and school and career with practiced ease. She is beautiful—even Mia can admit that—and she is brilliant.
I would know what to do if she were a man, Mia thinks miserably. That eyes-closed smile makes my heart race, and I miss every moment we're not together, but...She's Lana. That's all it is, right?
"Does it matter?" she asks herself, but she knows it does.
She is strange and distant towards Lana all week, and it hurts her to see the other girl looking so lost, so confused, unable to know just what she didn't do wrong.
-10-
Mia knows even Lana's infinite patience cannot take her odd behavior for long, so it is no surprise when Lana corners her in the library. Lana is broad-shouldered for a woman, and puffed up like an angry cat, she seems to block off any avenue of escape.
"Talk to me," she says, and there isn't an ounce of desperation in her voice, just the strength of a prosecutor about to rip the truth from a suspect. "Whatever it is that I did to you, Mia, I at least deserve to know."
"I needed some space," Mia replies. "I needed to work through my thoughts."
Lana withdraws a little, still tense and guarded, but not quite so strongly on the pursuit.
"And I couldn't help?" she asks.
"I need to ask you something," Mia hears herself answer, the words slipping from her lips without conscious thought. "Are you...well, you know...it seems like...Do you like me?"
She knows such a weak statement will not fly in court, but Lana doesn't tease her for it as she usually would. Instead, the color drains from her face. The other girl takes a step back, and she seems so small, her throat working ineffectively around words she cannot spit out.
It is answer enough.
"Lana..."
"I'm sorry," she says, so much self-loathing packed into the words that Mia wants to cry. "I wasn't going to mention it, at least...not like this."
She turns to go, but Mia catches her by the shoulder. Off-balance, Lana stumbles. She slips into Mia's arms, chest-to-chest, and Mia holds her crushingly close. She can see the tears on Lana's cheeks, and it feels as if she has swallowed broken glass. The other girl merely slumps against her, limp and hurt as a crash test dummy.
"Don't cry," Mia soothes. She doesn't know what else to say. I would never make you sad on purpose, Lana, she thinks, but she doesn't want to make things awkward, so she doesn't say another word.
They break apart after a minute, and Lana hurries out of the room, not sparing a glance back.
-11-
Mia is so worn out that she barely scrapes a C on their next test. Lana doesn't look much better, shadows under her eyes and her movements torpid, but she comes out with an A as always. She doesn't chide Mia about her poor mark—hell, she doesn't even look at Mia, if she can seem to avoid it. Lana doesn't wait up for her after class, either. It leaves Mia feeling like a criminal, leaves her doubting her own thoughts.
All the same, she cannot dismiss the feeling of sheer rightness she had felt with Lana in her arms, the smell of cheap shampoo and fabric softener still lingering in her nose. School is out for break, however, and she knows in her heart that Lana will not seek her out.
Nervousness nips at Mia's heels as she slips on her helmet and throws her leg over her motorcycle. She is already committed to her course of action, though, and she zips down the road to Lana's apartment. It is Saturday morning, but she hopes she'll catch Lana before she leaves for work.
Mia barely gets a chance to rap at the door before it opens. It isn't Lana holding the door, however; Ema pouts up at her. She is the spitting image of her sister, albeit shorter, softer, not quite so beaten down by life.
"Scientifically speaking," Ema says her high voice pitched ineffectively in an imitation of her sister's, "Lana's a mess. I don't know what you did, but you better fix it."
It would be comical if it didn't strike too close to home.
"That's what I'm here to do. Is she in?" Mia asks.
"No. She gets off Monday at three, though, if you're gonna apologize," Ema says.
"Yes, ma'am," Mia replies meekly. She doesn't need to apologize—she didn't do anything wrong—but she isn't in the mood to discuss the situation with Lana's ten year old sister.
Mia lies awake Sunday and and tries unsuccessfully to think of what she'll say. She misses Lana terribly, and her aloofness all week hurts to remember. Maybe, she thinks, she does return Lana's affections, but a persistent feeling of dishonesty darkens her skies as surely as a thundercloud. Who was she kidding? She'd never dated a woman before or even really looked at one, not until a month prior. Who was Mia to play at bisexual? She'd only hurt Lana even more.
-12-
Mia heads to the apartment with a bottle of wine in her bag and a feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach. She gets there at 2:30, and Ema lets her in with a nod. Mia waits on that familiar couch and works over what she'll say. It doesn't help much, and all too soon, Lana opens the door and calls out her name.
"I'm here," she says quickly, jumping to her feet.
"I saw your bike outside," Lana says by way of explanation. She looks to Ema, who suddenly is fascinated with the floor.
"Thank you," Lana murmurs to her sister, kissing her on the forehead. "Would you mind waiting out here while Mia and I talk?"
Ema shakes her head, and Lana smiles. As soon as she and Mia are in the bedroom and the door is shut, Lana's smile slips.
"I don't want pity," she whispers, before adding, "Keep it down, whatever you say. I don't want Ema hearing."
"Look, I don't really know how to say this, and I get it if you don't believe me, but...I think I like you, too," Mia murmurs, her face suffused with heat. Her carefully-rehearsed speech falls to pieces in her mind, and she fumbles for any words at all. "That's why I needed space. I've always thought I was straight, but the more I think about it, the more confused I get, and..."
Lana looks at her with wary hope.
"I feel like such a fraud. But I care about you more than I've ever cared about another woman," Mia finishes.
Lana doesn't speak, but she moves with that quick decisiveness Mia has always admired so.
They don't kiss. The timing isn't right, the moment isn't right. They hold each other, though, Mia's fingers clenching in the fabric of Lana's work shirt and Lana's grip on her almost painfully tight. Mia can't tell if the warmth she feels is from the other girl's body or the heat in the pit of her stomach. She sighs softly nonetheless. Their breaths come out of synch, but the feeling of Lana's chest rising and falling against hers is soothing in a way she cannot explain.
They part ways a while later, a thousand questions tearing through Mia's head as she rides home. They can wait, though, she thinks. She has all the time in the world to let the two of them work the questions out on their own.
-13-
Dating Lana is not so different from being friends with her, except with more touching. They still debate law and tease each other all the time, and they still spend most of their evenings in the library. Now, though, they hold hands as they walk. It is odd for Mia to hold a hand that is as small as her own, but it is a good sort of odd. They see a samurai romance movie on Wednesday, a big cheesy production that nonetheless tickles Mia's fancy, and both are in high spirits all week.
"You sound happy," Maya says during one of her customary calls with Mia. "What's up?"
"...Nothing," Mia replies. She feels bad, but she doesn't want to talk about Lana. Maya is eleven, but unlike Ema, she tends to tease her sister relentlessly.
"C'mon, Sis! You can tell me! Is it a new boyfriend? What's his name?"
Mia fights the urge to rub her temples.
"It's nothing," she insists, barely biting back and stop pestering me.
She recounts the conversation to Lana later, her head in the other girl's lap as deft fingers run through her hair.
"I haven't told Ema, either," Lana says. "She needs stability in her life, regardless of my selfishness."
Mia leans up and kisses her jaw.
"You're the least selfish person I know," she says, "but I agree. Let's not tell them just yet. Does...Have you told Ema you're into women?"
Lana is quiet for a moment.
"No. I've had a couple boyfriends and girlfriends since our parents died, but I don't talk about them, and I don't bring them by our apartment."
"You've brought me home," Mia says.
"Point," Lana concedes with that soft laugh of hers that tugs at Mia's heartstrings. "Though the circumstances were a little different."
"I'm all right with being a special case," she replies, and she is rewarded with another of those heartstopping eyes-closed grins.
-14-
Lana doesn't give her sister enough credit, Mia thinks as she waits awkwardly in the doorway. Ema stands opposite her, arms crossed defiantly and foot tapping. She is four and a half feet tall and more terrifying than the upcoming final exams.
"All right, let's talk," Ema says, staring piercingly up at her. "What's up with you and Lana? She's been acting all weird since that fight you had."
"I don't know what you mean," Mia returns. She wants to call out to Lana for help, but the sound of the shower in the background quashes that hope.
"I'm ten, not stupid. C'mon, you can tell me!" she says, and it reminds Mia so much of her own sister, pout and all.
Mia just ruffles her hair.
"You ask Lana, okay?"
Ema huffs, but lets her in anyway.
The three of them sit down and eat after preparing dinner. Ema chats happily about her day as if she hadn't been trying to shake down Mia for information mere minutes prior, and Lana smiles and nods, the perfect listener. They clean up together and help Ema with her homework, but soon, it's her bedtime.
The two sit on the tattered couch and study for a while. Mia cannot really focus on the words, though, not with Lana so close their legs touch.
Lana apparently cannot keep her concentration, either, because after a moment, she shuts her book and sets it aside.
"Study dates are hardly effective if we fail at studying," she sighs.
Mia grins and kisses her. She doesn't care if Ema might awaken and see them, and the thought doesn't seem to strike Lana, either, for she kisses back. Her lips linger for a moment longer than usual, and Mia presses the initiative, running her tongue over the other's bottom lip. Lana sighs into the kiss. She responds a little harder than strictly comfortable, a little needier than Mia expects, but she is warm as a radiator and sweet as justice. There is an edge of desperation to Lana's movements that makes Mia wonder how long it's been since she has been with anyone.
She strokes Lana's back and vows to take care of her.
-15-
Finals loom on the horizon, casting a damper on their spirits. Mia finds time to knock out some Christmas shopping, but little else. She and Lana both agree that they need some time apart to focus on their studies, but the lulls of Tuesday and Thursday still drive Mia up the wall. She writes scraps of poetry on the margins of her notes and finds law texts far less interesting than straight brown hair and sharp blue eyes.
"I feel like a silly schoolgirl with a crush," Mia sighs on Friday as she rests her head on Lana's shoulder.
"You are a schoolgirl with a crush," she teases back.
"Nonsense. I'm an aspiring attorney with a silly schoolgirl girlfriend," Mia returns.
Lana laughs and shakes her head.
"I'm closer to being a lawyer than you are. I hope you argue better on your finals."
"I beat you on our last paper."
"But not on our last test."
Mia makes a face, but she's forced to concede the point.
"By the way," Lana says. "Ema said you told her to ask me about us."
"I did not! She was—she was harassing me and asking what was up with you recently. I told her I didn't know!" Mia splutters.
"Typical Ema," the other girl huffs. "She'll make a great scientific investigator one day."
"Helping her sister lock up criminals, hm?"
"Thankfully, I'm still sharp enough to outwit her, but sooner or later, she'll turn the tables on me," Lana laughs. "At least she likes you. Goodness knows I do."
Her words make Mia's heart skip, and she grins back.
-16-
They finish finals by midweek, and Mia's heart aches. She is going home to Kurain for break, two hours out by train, and it hurts to say farewell.
They sit in Lana's apartment the night before Mia has to leave, watching as Ema hangs up Christmas ornaments. It isn't goodbye, not for real, but it feels just as bad.
"I know it isn't Christmas yet, but I got you a present," Mia says, clutching a little rectangular clothing box.
"Me, too," Lana replies, "but yours is under the tree."
It is a small tree, bedecked in cheap silver and red balls, and they don't have many presents under it. There is something real to it that is missing from the gigantic tree that Mia is used to, though.
"It's not fair," Ema grumbles as she hands Mia her present. Her eyes follow the package like a dog watching bacon. "How come she gets to open one early?"
"Because she won't be here for Christmas," Lana says tiredly, as if she has repeated the same thing a dozen times over today. Her eyes are on Mia, though, equal parts excited and yearning.
They both open their presents at the same time. Lana unfolds hers neatly, keeping the paper all in one piece, while Mia tears into hers.
Mia can hardly stifle a giggle as she pulls back the tissue paper. A soft yellow scarf sits, neatly folded, at the bottom of the box.
"What's so funny?" Lana asks with a frown.
"Open yours," she says by way of explanation.
Lana lifts out a bright red muffler, and she, too, grins.
"We match," she says as she ties the scarf around her neck. Mia puts on her own and laughs.
"We do. Just a little something to remind you of me over the break."
She wants to kiss Lana, but Ema is right there, so instead she hugs her. Mia pulls back a second later, and she straightens Lana's scarf for her.
"I'll call you," Mia whispers. "Every day if you'd like."
Lana lifts a hand like she's about to stroke Mia's face, but she changes the gesture halfway through, running her hand through her own hair.
"That isn't necessary, but thank you."
"I'm going to miss you," Mia murmurs.
"I know. I'll miss you, too."
Mia knows that come tomorrow evening she'll be sitting in the shadow of her family's Christmas tree, eating one of her aunt Morgan's jaw-droppingly large strawberry desserts and listening to Maya ramble on. With Lana by her side and the last light of the day peeking through the apartment window, though, she couldn't be happier than she is right now.