Headcanoned with and beta-ed by graceonce
Music: God Knows I Tried - Lana Del Rey
"I think I figured that when it screamed, Mary."
The blonde across from her sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair and closing her blue eyes.
"Sorry," Lana added. She rubbed at her eyes with the palm of her hand. "I didn't mean to shout."
The girl softened, but her eyes remained shut.
The brunette began again, sheepish now as she flitted her gaze between her notes and the nun across from her. "It's a woman, and it's not happy."
She had her back to the wall, sitting beneath the window with her legs crossed. Mary had seated herself against her island counter, the sunrise illuminating her face as it rose over the Boston skyline, and Lana found herself glancing up more than she usually did, watching the reds and yellows move in tandem over the girl's porcelain skin.
"That doesn't give much information," Mary murmured. She cracked an eye open, amused, the light brightening her sky blue gaze. "Did you really write that?"
Lana frowned, so close to pouting. "I'm paraphrasing." She glanced down at her notebook. "It's a young woman, her voice hasn't scratched. Though we both know entities can throw their age, so that doesn't give us much, does it?" She scratched her pen across the page.
"Demons can change their age, Lana," Mary replied. "Not poltergeists."
"You're saying this thing is a poltergeist."
The girl turned her gaze to the brunette. "You were there. Wouldn't you?"
"Is this some kind of test?" Lana teased.
Mary smiled, blushing prettily as she looked away.
The journalist shrugged softly. "It's a little too attached for my taste."
"They can be," the blonde continued, lips still tugged up. "It's sentient. Whatever happened to it was bad enough that it decided to stay and haunt this plane of existence."
"I thought it was a her."
"Are you comfortable with calling it a her?"
Lana softened. "I'm comfortable with whatever you're comfortable with."
Mary's eyebrow quirked up, the sun shining gold in her hair. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose and at the gold in her eyes. "I need to know who it is. Or was. I can't go through with an exorcism if I don't. It's so much easier when the victims already know who it could be," she admitted.
"I have a feeling the entire Walker family knows."
"That's a given," the blonde sighed. "And even then," Mary continued. "What if I let the demon through?
Lana looked up, pen pausing its scribbling. "The demon?"
"There's something else entirely in that house, Lana." Mary squirmed. "I just know it. Something too evil to be just a spirit. I told you."
"Yeah. Why didn't you explain it to me when we were there?"
"I didn't want to worry you. You're worrying now," she pointed out before Lana could object. The brunette scowled and sat up straight.
"You don't think it was just you mirroring yourself? Feeling your own power?"
Mary shook her head. "It fought me the entire way, the entire time I was there. It's another being altogether," she said. "It's scary, whatever it is. Angry. But not as, as sad as the spirit. The spirit is chagrined, depressed. It doesn't understand what's happening. This demon, it's calculated. Cold. Furious. It won't come out just yet because it knows I'm there. It knows I can feel it. It doesn't know if it's more powerful than me or not, so it's tentative. Demons don't share well, Lana."
"I know."
"If it hasn't properly surged yet, it's because it's afraid of me. The ghost may be hurting Julia, but if anything is calling Kit's name, it's not alone." Mary looked away. "So I'm worried. Exorcisms work like an Ouija board, you know that. If I erase one entity, the other has time to let itself out while I'm not watching."
"I'll be watching too."
The girl hugged herself, eyes tracing the wooden floors. "I don't know if I'd be able to handle another devil in me, Lana. And I certainly couldn't handle one in you." She burrowed back a little further against the counter wall. "I've never had a friend like you," she murmured. "One I could talk to and embrace and be myself with, without having any boundaries haunting me. I couldn't lose you."
"I'll be watching too," Lana stressed lowly. She closed her notebook. "I'll talk to Kit this afternoon, try to get some information out of him." She looked up, the dawn settling. "You should sleep until then."
"And you?"
"I have some things to do out in town. Will you be alright by yourself?"
"You haven't slept in your own bed in two days."
"I have coffee."
"You hate coffee."
Lana's lip quirked up and Mary smiled back before she stood, flattening her skirt. She waved lightly to the brunette, as if a schoolgirl quaking in her heels again, before tracing to Lana's bedroom and closing the door behind her.
The roads were drier when they drove to Kit's house for the third time that week, their second night looming over them both. Lana had leaned over to turn the radio on as they'd left Boston afternoon traffic, the silence between her and the blonde too much for her taste.
She shifted awkwardly in her seat, the Carpenters resounding in the car with an upbeat that she didn't feel anywhere near her bones or her heart, the music too close to her extremities. She went to reach over to turn the sound down but slender fingers stopped her and she spared a glance at Mary, the girl's teeth sunk into her bottom lip. She focused on the road again, Karen crooning in her ears, and settled her hand back on the wheel.
When she parked, the Walker home in the distance and the sky darkening above them, she stood by the hood of the car as she waited for Mary to follow her out, scribbling a quick word beneath the inside of her elbow. The door opened and she tilted her head, finishing what had become a phrase, but the blonde didn't move to stand.
She'd only turned to let her legs dangle out the side, her blue gaze in her lap. Lana rounded the car to plant herself in front of the girl, looking her over.
"What's wrong?"
Mary waved vaguely, a sigh escaping. "My shoe's untied." The brunette followed her eyes down to her heel. "And I want to tie it. But I don't want to." She looked up. "I really do, Lana."
"I know."
"But I can't. I don't want to."
Lana knelt in front of Mary and she reached for her shoe.
"Thank you," the girl blurted. She wiped at her eyes. "What would I do without you? Don't ever leave," she added in a laugh.
Lana let out a clipped sigh, chest aching, and she looked up searchingly, though Mary's eyes would not meet hers, the nun chewing on her bottom lip. "This is my last one, Mary." She swallowed. "My last case."
"I know."
"I-"
"I feel like I don't remember myself, did you know that? Ever since this ordeal began. Ever since this," the girl abruptly said. "I remember my parents, my childhood, but nothing of my teenage years. Or my first days as a nun. But I, I remember Rome." Mary paused. "I went to Rome, did you know?" Lana shook her head though she'd heard the story so many times, and she urged her to continue. It would ground the blonde. It would ground her. She tied a first knot.
Mary smiled, like a child with a new toy. "I was sent to study exorcisms underneath one of the cardinals. A priest had been chosen first, out of the Boston community, but he declined last minute. So he says. I heard he was turned down in the end, right before he went." Her fingers tugged at the seat's loose threads. "I just wanted to be a Sunday school teacher, somewhere in an academy. But they sought me out for my humble beginnings. They called me a pure, innocent, soul. Wholly untouched by evil." She let out a light laugh, blue eyes brimming with tears. "And I went to Rome, and I was trained. Six months in a light, constant spring wind. The cardinal was extremely kind to me, and he believed in me so. He let me help the first time he took me an exorcism, but I wasn't able to complete it.
"He told me I'd get stronger, and that I'd be able to do them fully by myself soon enough. When I got back to Boston a man was waiting for me, his tongue black by the devil, and Father Timothy stayed in the room with his own bible in his hands. But I did it all by myself.
"I so quickly became famous in the diocese for what I'd done." She looked up, a long moment passing. "Do you have any fans, Lana? With what you've written for me? About me?"
"Fans? More like stalkers," the brunette replied. "Devil worshipers and the like."
The blonde nodded slowly, her voice soft beneath her blue eyes. "The Briarcliff case must have gotten you a lot of those."
Lana looked up, gaze hard. "The Briarcliff case got me the entirety of the Catholic church on my back. And a devil on yours."
Mary tore her eyes away, biting her lower lip hard. She looked to the corner of the room, the floor. "You know I- that day? Before I went in and did the exorcism? When I was still myself? What I told you?"
"Mary."
The blonde looked up, her fingers shaking in her lap. "I do care for you. Immensely. I love you."
Lana's head fell. "Jesus."
"Even more so now, twofold," Mary added, trying to grab her attention. "For staying with me, past me telling you I could never break my vows no matter how much I wanted you, past me unable to reciprocate your needs. Past me being, being this, this mutation of minds." Lana breathed out, looking up beneath a heavy brow. "Please don't write this one, Lana, I beg you."
"Mary, I have to."
The girl shifted in her seat pitifully. "But then you'll leave me. You'll be done with your job and you'll leave."
Lana stood, black eyes watching her and blinking in between bouts of narrowness, and she leaned in to press a soft kiss to the blonde's forehead. Mary anchored her hands in her hair, keeping her still.
"Push it back, Lana, keep this one in your backpocket." She heaved in a breath, chest trembling with unshed sobs. "Please don't leave me."
"Why would I leave you?" Lana murmured.
"Doesn't everyone?"
The brunette thought of the devil and pushed unruly curls out of her face. "I've stayed this long, haven't I? I told you I'd take care of everything when we met, I meant it sparingly, for the articles. I mean it now wholly." She tilted the girl's head up, fingers beneath her chin and a soft smile to her features. "I love you, Mary Eunice, why would I leave you?"
Mary's lower lip trembled as her tears finally fell and she shut her eyes tight, burrowing in Lana's chest when the brunette went to hold her. Kisses they'd shared before; slow, tortuous ones to Lana who no matter how hard she tried couldn't stop the broiling heat in her chest; sweet, angelic ones to Mary who'd never really felt anything but annoyance and irritation thrown her way.
Their second case together had been harrowing for Lana, hospitals made her uncomfortable and abandoned ones made her want to turn and run away, tail between her legs. And so she'd kissed Mary out of need for some liquid courage in her hollowed veins screaming for safety away from the looming building. A quick thing that had seemed more like her smashing her mouth to the blonde's. But Mary had only blushed, peeked a smile, and chastised her lightly. And her fingers had been tight around Lana's hand when they'd walked in together, the brunette's shoulders up to her ears.
Liquid courage. That's all these were.
The blonde pulled away now, smiling shakily, and Lana pecked another kiss to the corner of her lips, softening when Mary wiped at her nose sheepishly.
"Thank you."
Lana didn't reply, rubbing the tip of her nose to Mary's before straightening her back. She held her hand out and the blonde took it, standing on tied shoes, and she pulled her up until she could embrace her properly, the blonde's arms intertwining around the woman's neck when she buried her nose into chestnut strands. Lana felt hot tears begin to dot her neck and she held the sister tighter.
"Are you alright?"
"Could you take me home? I'm sorry," the girl stammered.
"Mary?"
"I thought I could do this, but I can't. Not today. I want to. But I can't. I'd like to go home. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay."
"I'm sorry for making you drag me out here."
"Mary, it's fine. I'll take you, alright? You can stay at my place and I'll come back alone. I can handle it today."
The blonde cried in her arms, sagging lightly, and Lana helped her back into the car. She kissed her temple, lingering there before pulling away.
"Let's get you home."
She left Mary in between her covers, two pillows beneath her head and her face smothered into the mattress, the girl curled up on herself.
If Kit noticed from afar that she was alone, standing in his doorway with a shoulder against the frame, he didn't show it or say anything when she arrived on his porch. He shook Lana's hand firmly and let her in and she was relieved to find coffee already made and in mugs on the kitchen counter, Julia's cookie tin beside it. Though the kids were nowhere to be seen, or heard.
She eyed the cups. "How's your arm?" the brunette asked.
"It hurts for sure, but you patched me up just fine," he replied. He closed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. "Miss McKee not here today?"
"She had some things to do," Lana said. Kit pushed one of the mugs towards her and she took it greedily, the sides burning her palms and the black scalding her throat.
He watched her for a long moment, leaving his own unattended. "You guys got some, some kinda report for me? Or somethin'?"
"You've got a woman scorned on your hands, Mr. Walker."
He laughed, but it was joyless. "I've got a wife already, Ms. Winters. How'd you figure?"
"The feeling is feminine, Mary can attest to that. Though don't take it for a woman," Lana said. "It's not."
Kit looked to her. "Now I like to think I'm a humble man, Winters, but I also like to believe no woman would ever smack my skull to the floor."
She smiled. "I'm sure you're an outstanding citizen, Mr. Walker. I just want you to understand that what we're dealing with is far from human. Entities, whatever they may be, are not human."
"It's Kit, Winters."
She nodded and he finally drank his coffee.
He cleared his throat. "It look like it's gonna rain."
"It probably will. It's the season to."
"You wanna go outside before it does? I feel like we both need some fresh air."
She hadn't thought the swings would hold them both but he was easy in sitting down in them and so she followed carefully. They groaned but he swung and they stayed strong on their foundations, and so she too swayed lightly.
"Are you two hidin' somethin' from me?" he asked softly.
She glanced at him and looked away again, hands in her lap. "No. Maybe omitting the truth, but it's a far-fetched truth, one that we're not sure is a truth. I wouldn't want tell you one only for it to be deemed a lie later on."
He nodded slowly. "You two don't make much sense apart, but together you're a force to be reckoned with."
It took her a long minute to speak, her gaze on the dirt she played with, the tip of her heel pushing it to and fro as she swung minutely. "I've been working with her close to a year, ," she murmured. "Kit." He looked to her, confused and she raised her shoulders and let them fall. "You asked, earlier."
He swayed on.
She took a deep breath. "I'm writing a series of ten pieces on Miss McKee, the church hired me and is paying me to do so. It wasn't my career plan at first but now I don't see myself anywhere else. But I'm hoping a newspaper editor sees them and decides to take me on." She picked at her knee. "This is my last one."
"Why does the church want this written so much? This shit's horrible."
"It is. But then so are the demons when left unattended. Mary saves people, she can help. The church can help. Me publishing these gets the word out, the word out that absolution is reachable, so near. That it isn't the end when you become haunted or..." She chose her next words carefully. "A puppet." She shrugged lightly. "I don't know, I just write." She glanced at him. "I didn't believe before, Kit. I thought it was all bullshit, and I still think God is an abstract concept. But I know demons and the devils exist. I know Hell is down there." She looked away, into the lowering fog. "Or up above."
They fell silent, swinging in sync and then out of it, his strides longer than hers, more nervous, though she found it hard for him to be.
She sighed. "Kit?"
"Yeah."
"How did your wife die?"
Kit's head whipped up sharply, hazel eyes tumultuous. He sat up straight, gaze hardening. "My wife? Alma's alive and well, Ms. Winters. You've seen her yourself."
"You know what I mean, Kit," Lana said. "Your other wife. Your second wife. Thomas's mother."
"We were never-"
"I'm a journalist, it's my job to snoop. And I snooped. Two marriage certificates to two different women. How did Grace Bertrand die, Mr. Walker?"
"We-I took care to have those records erased-"
"I'm an ambitious gal."
Kit breathed in heavily, fingers tight on the swing's chains. "You wouldn't dare say anythin' to anyone."
"That's not my goal, Mr. Walker. My goal is finding out what the hell is plaguing you. Tell me how your wife died, and we'll be one step closer."
He eyed her for a moment, distrust shining through his hazel eyes, but it was something she was used to, something she'd seen in his children's gaze. He leaned forward. "If I talk about my wife, then you tell me what the fuck is going on with blondie. I know somethin's up, you can't hide that."
Lana bit the inside of her cheek. "Deal."
He fell back, threatening to fall, distraught as he rubbed the palm of his hand against his unshaven cheek. "We were married," he finally admitted. "But only because Alma left. I thought she was dead. The police thought she was dead. You know how it is, she's-" he paused, unsure, "Darker."
"I understand that."
"She was pregnant then," he added. "I lost two people that night. But I met Grace, and we got married, and we had Thomas. And one day Alma came back with a little girl. My little girl. My little twins."
He let his head fall into his hands, elbows digging into his thighs. "I never meant for any of this to happen."
Lana edged closer, feet firmly in the ground. "What happened, Mr. Walker?"
"Alma got jealous. Of Thomas and of Grace and that I was able to love two women. A child that wasn't hers." His breath shuddered in. "She killed Grace. She murdered her, Winters. Right there in that livin' room."
Lana thought of the black stains she'd had beneath her heels.
"And I had to tell Thomas she passed in the night. And I have to live with a murderer taking care of my children. Or Julia, anyway. Alma doesn't care much for him."
"I'm sorry, Kit."
He looked up. "My wife is dead and there's somethin' horribly wrong with that girl of yours. So spill, Winters. We had a deal."
Lana let her black gaze fall to the floor. "There's nothing to say. She's a sweetheart," she murmured. "A little naive and a little too kind, maybe."
"She doesn't seem it," he replied, bitterness twisting his features. "Don't lie to me, I ain't all stupid."
"What do you even want to hear from me?" The brunette shifted in her seat, uncrossing her legs before crossing them again. "She's changed." She swallowed and Kit waited for her to continue. "I've never talked about this," she offered softly.
"It's okay," he replied.
She breathed in tightly, fingers tapping against her thigh. "Our fourth case together, we were at this, this asylum. Briarcliff, back in town. And things went...wrong."
He moved to be closer. "Wrong? Wrong how?"
"Exorcisms," she chose her words carefully, "Exorcisms don't always turn out the way you'd want them to. We went too far with the rituals to save this boy from an extremely difficult possession. He'd have died so quickly and easily if we hadn't acted. But we ignored safety and we entered a territory we'd never touched before. That demon, that devil, left that young man's body. And maybe he went into Mary a little too."
"She's-"
"Yes. And it's my fault." She laughed bitterly. "You wouldn't happen to know any exorcists, would you?"
He glanced at her. "Can't you just ask the church?"
Her voice was tight and she looked away, knees knocking together as she moved. "They don't know. I don't think they should. She doesn't think so either."
"You know how this works. She'll be fine. Father Tim told me it always goes well."
Lana smiled. "How I wish I had as much faith as you did." She shook her head, black eyes tearing over. She willed the pain away. "It's too strong, Mr. Walker, too ingrained and intertwined with her own soul. If we do this the devil will be cast out, and she'll die." She rubbed at her temple. "If we don't she'll die anyway. Not her body, but her soul. It's eating away at her. And I told her I'd find someone, a solution. And I haven't. And I don't know what to do anymore, every new encounter with a spirit makes it stronger within her. She feeds off of evil." She clicked her tongue. "It. It feeds off of evil.
"And what hurts the most is that she still believes in me. Believes that there's something I can do for her. There's nothing I can do. I so want to be her savior, but I'm not Mary, she is. And I can't save her."
"Lana-"
She shrugged. "I'll just have to hold her hand till that day comes, won't I?" she interrupted him. Her black eyes steeled as she watched his emotions flicker. "Don't think I won't. I gladly will. I'll go into Hell with her." The brunette stood abruptly. "I'm sorry, I think I'm going to go."
He nodded quickly, slackjawed.
"We'll come back tomorrow night, Mr. Walker, with a bible. We'll get started on ridding your home of its evil spirits. I forgot my purse in the kitchen," she muttered. Her heels dug into the gravel, sinking in like it was quicksand, like her soul was heavier than before, not lighter as she had thought it would be. "I would push her into Heaven," she continued to herself. "Stand in Hell and help her up that ladder and out that sewer."
She passed Mary's ghost on her way back out, the girl's golden eyes turned searchingly on the floor, her knees knocking together lazily as she shifted lightly as if in a trance, sprawled there in her armchair. A ghost or maybe a whisper left behind by the girl; the devil. Lana turned her gaze away when the ghost looked up, grin resplendent, as if someone had murmured in her haloed hair the funniest joke.
Lana wondered if, at home, Mary was crying or laughing.