The Ghost of My Past
Fumbling, stumbling,
around in the dark.
Fighting, igniting,
flames from a spark.
Blinded, reminded,
of the fear inside.
Turning, yearning,
for a place to hide.
- Lee W. Barker
1971
They'd-
They'd found her.
Again.
She'd been so careful.
She'd covered her tracks.
She'd done everything right.
All these centuries of running and hiding, but she'd prayed – she'd hoped-
When?
How?
Hands numb and trembling with the effort of trying to block out the stench of charred flesh, Emma stared up at the blackened remains of the old garment factory, flames yet to be fully extinguished. She wasn't entirely unfamiliar with these sorts of circumstances, with tragedies so devastating that they could never be fully erased from one's memory.
But there was something especially terrible about surviving a tragedy with the knowledge that the responsibility for so much destruction lay solely on your shoulders.
If only she could find the strength to look away.
When the last of the bodies were finally carted off, and the patches of sputtering flames were doused, the crowd began to thin, drifting back towards the many uncertainties that lay before them. How lucky they were, Emma thought absently as she watched them leave, clutching at the sleeves of her coat to still her trembling hands – how lucky to be able to, in their own time, leave such horrors behind.
There was no way of knowing how much time passed until the crowd dispersed entirely. Eventually, however, the street was as empty as it had been before the blaze, leaving Emma to watch as the last wisps of smoke wafted up into the morning sky. She wanted to run – oh, how she wanted to run, to leave this city and abandon a home she'd spent years building, to protect the people for those relentleslly pursuing her – but the guilt compelled her to stay, to sear into her memory a reminder of the destruction her carelessness had caused.
Many things, she had forgotten. This would not be one of them.
When the trembling finally subsided, Emma found herself standing at the edge of the sidewalk, hesitating briefly before kneeling on the wet pavement.
There had been no mistaking what she'd seen, not when she'd caught a glimpse of it hours ago, not when the neighborhood had spilled out onto the streets at the first sign of trouble. There was certainly no mistaking it, now that she was alone and there were no distractions, no pretending that she didn't recognize them for what they were.
A familiar set of symbols, partially obscured by a blanket of fresh soot.
A sign.
A warning.
She should have known this would never last.
/Ω/
The sun had just barely started rising when Emma finished saying her goodbyes.
Nearly thirty years ago, she'd arrived in New York with the hope that there would be no need to repeat the past, to have to abandon everything she would work for – the family she'd build, the life she'd make, the people she'd love. And for a while, that had been true.
How quickly things changed.
Perhaps she'd been here long enough to forget that unfortunate fact.
"That's everything, then?"
Startled out of her thoughts, Emma turned to face the woman who'd spoken.
When she was first introduced to the woman who would come to lead their coven, Emma had been left with the impression that Catherine Ruggiero was a remarkable woman, and in all the years that they'd known each other, that they'd fought alongside each other, she'd been proven right more times than she could count. Her stoic, unwavering acceptance of Emma's true nature was just one of the first - and it seemed almost inevitable that her understanding that their time coming to an end would be the last.
"That's everything," Emma said, trying for a smile and failing. Surrounded by the small circle of individuals who'd become such an essential part of her life, Catherine's hands grasping hers, she felt incredibly tempted to ignore the advice that she'd heeded for centuries.
To stay.
To live.
But there was too much at stake, too much to lose.
"Thank you." Emma blinked away the prickling feeling in her eyes, feeling somewhat fragile as she spoke to Catherine, to Marguerite and her nephews, to Nicola and Alexandra, to Michael and his favorite stuffed rabbit, to each and every one of them.
"For-
-for everything."
"Always."
/Ω/
A day and a half later, in a dimly-lit motel room on the side of the freeway, Emma considered her options.
For now, it was probably best to avoid staying anywhere permanently.
But Emma knew that she'd have to settle down eventually, to put down roots as she'd done so many times before.
Somewhere the Order wouldn't easily find her.
Somewhere nobody knew her name.
Crossing the state border was a good start.
Hey everybody!
I'm still alive, against all odds. I hope you're all doing well, and that you're doing your best to keep yourself and your loved ones safe and healthy. I know that the pandemic is taking a huge toll on all of us, but it's good to remind ourselves of the things in our life that are still going well.
This chapter is rather short - I wanted to do a few time-skips to give you guys a sense of Emma's life up until the present day, but I didn't want to go too deep into the details. Immortality can be quite lonely when you have no one to share it with (that's what we call foreshadowing kids). Emma's going to join the main story soon, but I want to set up a few things about she fits into everything before we get there.
Thanks you all for reading - stay tuned for more, and remember that reviews, comments, and criticism are always welcome!