Chapter Text
There was something to be said about it raining at a funeral, specifically your own. The colours of the sky fitting the mood perfectly.
That had been four years ago, but it felt like a lifetime. The rain had been cold and relentless, soaking through the black coat she wore, sticking to her skin. Perhaps it was what she was deserved, she wasn’t meant to be there anyway but there wasn’t a thing that would have been able to keep her away. Even if it was from a distance, she had to have one last look at her….at them.
Some days she felt as if she was living in a movie. Watching from beside a parked car, the black clothes keeping her firmly in the shadows.
She had known heartbreak, but nothing could have prepared her for the way her chest tightened, and her heart felt as if it had been split in two. Eyes glazing over as in the distance, a small hand tightened in the hand standing beside her.
Even from where was stood, she could see that Carla wasn’t crying, not then.
It was probably the most Carla thing she had ever seen. Refusing to break down in front of the young girl whose hand she was grasping. Of their young girl. Being married to the brunette had taught her that Carla would rather do anything but let anyone see her break. Even if it was her own wife’s funeral.
Now it was four years later, and Lisa was back.
***
Underworld stood across the street and even with the four years that had passed, it hadn’t changed. Apart from the small chips in the paintwork. Lisa looked at it like it might vanish if she looked away for even a second.
It was easy to lose count of the number of times Betsy would run in front of her to the door. The twelve-year-old not able to open it without a little help and then not even waiting for Lisa when she did get that help.
Betsy. She would be sixteen now.
Lisa swallowed and adjusted the collar of her coat. Witness protection had given her a new name, a new city and a history that never fitted her. A new history didn’t account for memories, and it certainly didn’t stop her loving her family. The family that had to carry on without her, who hadn’t had a choice in the decision that Lisa had made.
The case had demanded it. Undercover work gone too deep. Testimony against men who would kill a cop’s wife and child to make a point without hesitation. The department had made it sound necessary, the only way that her family was going to be able to survive.
Though surviving and living life were two very different things.
Lisa had no input into how it took place, all she had to do was to play her part and she did, no matter how hard it had been.
The fake car crash on a country road. The completely burned-out vehicle being the explanation as to why it was a closed casket at the funeral. Paperwork sealed and hidden by passwords. There was only a handful of people who knew the truth, the less who knew the better.
There had been hesitation when she had agreed, of course there had been. Leaving behind her wife and daughter to grieve someone who they thought was Lisa, but in fact, was a Jane Doe. If there hadn’t been a threat on her family, Lisa never would have agreed but the risk was too high and all she wanted was to give Carla and Betsy a chance to live their lives, without fear.
Lisa understood the risks and had signed her life away.
Looking down at her watch, she checked the time. Nearly eight in the evening. Late for anyone working at the factory and four years ago, it would have been late for Carla. With the two of them raising Betsy, Carla had kept reasonable hours. Mainly because it was much easier for her to do so than for Lisa.
The only way she knew her wife was in there were the dim lights glowing underneath the door, while number 6 was in complete darkness.
Glancing both ways to make sure no one was around, Lisa crossed the street and pushed open the factory door. Even after four years, there was a squeak when she did, and she imagined that oiling the hinge wasn’t high on Carla’s list of priorities. There was also a hint of annoyance that the door wasn’t locked, something that Lisa would often nag Carla about if she happened to be working late alone.
Stepping inside, she was hit with silence. The opposite of the whirring machines and chatter amongst the staff during the day.
The only sign that someone was there was the glow in the office at the back.
For a moment, she stayed where she was, suddenly torn between stepping forward and seeing her wife or leaving the way she came, not wanting to turn Carla’s life upside down again.
The pull was too much though and even if Carla decided she never wanted to see her again, at least she would have set eyes on her.
With the blinds in the office closed, Lisa stepped quietly into the main part of the factory, fingertips grazing over the wood of the desk as she passed.
The office door was open.
Carla sat behind the desk, boots up, head tipped back and looking up at the ceiling. She had a tight grip on the glass in her hand and next to her sat a bottle, beside a stack of paperwork that she hadn’t had chance to get through. Her hair was a couple of inches shorter, and a couple of new lines adorned her face. But there was no denying that it was Carla. Her jawline still looked as if it could cut glass and with the presence that could fill any room.
Taking a couple more steps, Lisa stopped in the doorway and for a moment, she let herself really look at the woman she hadn’t seen in four years.
It was the part no one prepared you for. Just like Lisa, Carla had been living and surviving without her.
“You’re late,” Carla muttered suddenly, eyes still closed, and Lisa jumped, not expecting the brunette to speak. With how quiet the factory was, she could pretty much hear how fast her heart was racing.
Lifting the glass, Carla squinted at the doorway. Her gaze passed over Lisa without landing. “If you’re going to rob me,” she slurred, “at least have the decency to buy a pair first.”
It was the one thing Lisa had been worried about, Carla’s drinking. At the beginning of their marriage, it had been an issue but with help and support, Carla had come out the other side. A drink every now and then with a nice meal was something she could manage but judging by the sight in front of her, Carla had well and truly fallen off the wagon.
And it was all Lisa’s fault.
Letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, Lisa finally stepped into the light, still not trusting herself to speak.
Carla frowned, blinking hard as if her blurred vision refused to cooperate. “We’re closed,” she replied automatically. “Come back tomorrow. Or don’t. I don’t care.”
Lisa took the opportunity to take another step forward.
For four years, she had been imagining this moment and all the different ways that it could go. In every scenario, there was shouting. Possibly tears. Shouting most definitely. What she hadn’t imagined was no reaction at all. Instead, she was faced with her wife who was clearly drunk, who was not even able to realise that the woman she had loved, who she thought had died, was standing in front of her.
“Carla,” Lisa said, her voice barely a whisper.
Her name hung in the air like it was about to break. After four years it felt foreign on her tongue but there was no mistaking that it was home.
Carla’s eyes flicked up again only this time, they stayed on Lisa a couple of seconds longer. A crease formed between her brows and manicured fingers ran through her hair.
There was a moment when Lisa thought that the recognition would hit but that was only fleeting, a laugh breaking through the silence.
Carla’s laugh.
“Great,” she muttered. “Now I’m seeing things.”
Lisa’s chest tightened painfully as Carla finished off the glass. Her nose scrunched at the smell, but she stayed where she was, giving Carla a chance to process whatever was running through her mind.
“Should’ve expected that,” Carla continued, talking to the ceiling and Lisa wished that she would look at her. “Four years and you pick tonight? Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
Lisa didn’t move, shoes feeling like they were full of cement, keeping her firmly in place.
Carla’s gaze drifted toward her again, unfocused and glassy. “You look… younger than last time,” she added vaguely. “Ghosts don’t age, I suppose.”
It finished with a bitter laugh and the words hit like Lisa squarely in the chest. Four years of being away and Carla didn’t believe what was right in front of her.
“I’m not a ghost,” Lisa whispered.
Carla waved a hand dismissively in her direction. “Sure, you aren’t, and I don’t like my alcohol.”
A mobile phoned sounded suddenly on the desk, vibrating against paperwork. Carla flinched, scowling at it. Like it was taking her away from something important.
“Go away,” she told the phone, but it kept sounding. Whoever was calling wasn’t giving up and Lisa could sense the irritation from her wife.
Finally, Carla glanced down at the screen and Lisa watched her expression change ever so slightly. She’d even go far as to say it had softened.
“Betsy,” she muttered as she answered the phone. “What?”
Lisa froze and she could just make out the faint teenage voice of their daughter, though too distant to make out words.
Four years and it was the first time she was hearing their daughter’s voice. She could only imagine how much Betsy had changed from the photo she would look at every night. Sixteen and no doubt causing Carla a lot of trouble.
“I told you I’m fine,” Carla snapped, though her tone softened at the edges. The way it always did when she was talking to the teenager. “Yes, I ate and before you ask, no I haven’t been driving. Stop mothering me.”
A pause. Carla’s eyes drifted toward Lisa again, unfocused but lingering.
“I’m alone,” she said firmly into the phone.
Another pause followed and Carla sighed heavily into the phone. “Betsy, just lock the door behind you. I’ll be home soon, alright?”
She hung up and tossed the phone onto the desk, the clatter echoing around the office. For a long moment, the room was quiet except for the breathing of the two of them.
Lisa struggled for what she could say so she stayed silent, biting down on her bottom lip to stop herself from saying something that Carla probably wouldn’t even remember in the morning.
With a soft sigh, Carla rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, adding a little bit of pressure to try and improve her vision.
When she looked up again, her gaze slid straight past Lisa as if she were nothing more than a shadow.
And it was exactly what she had been for four years. A shadow in the background.
“Alright,” Carla muttered to herself, pushing her chair back and standing. It was somewhat unsteady, and Carla gripped onto the desk until she found her balance. “Time to go home.”
She grabbed the whiskey bottle but then reconsidered and left it behind on the desk. It would be there in the morning and Betsy had seen her drinking enough.
Lisa didn’t move an inch from where she stood, and Carla walked directly past her. So close that Lisa could smell the alcohol and the cream that Carla had always. So close that their shoulders nearly brushed. It smelt like home.
Carla didn’t flinch. Didn’t pause. Didn’t see her.
Lisa stood alone in the office and closed her eyes as the factory lights clicked off one by one.
She had imagined anger. She had prepared for hatred. She had rehearsed apologies repeatedly in her mind, none of them accepted.
What Lisa hadn’t prepared for, was invisibility.
Outside, Carla was walking unsteadily home to their daughter. The blonde who had Lisa’s face but was like Carla in every other way. Stubborn, sharp-tongued and who knew what she wanted out of life.
Lisa opened her eyes and turned off the desk lamp.
“Not a ghost,” she said softly to the empty room and then she followed Carla. Not entirely prepared for what was going to come next.