Alex Stern

Nova is a nightmare to text with. It's either rapid responses or it's nothing for eighteen hours and there's no fucking middle. Since Alex had all but thrown herself at him while high at Pride, they've been sort of figuring out the borders of their friendship again and she hasn't actually seen him in person.

She's promised Darlington that she'll paint the bedroom this afternoon - after some negotiating, she's managed to talk him into a rich peacock blue-green that'll look amazing behind the brass bed frame that they've managed to find for (virtually) nothing.

come over and help me paint, asshole, she texts, and then she sends him a pin to show him how to get out to Black Elm.

I'll order pizza.

It should be fairly straight forward: she just needs to find the effluvia, the thing personal enough that it'll let North track down Tara on the other side, beyond the veil. The retainer should do the job; what could mean more to the pretty blonde girl that Tara had been than the possibility of perfect teeth? Alex fills the sink with water and drops the retainer into it. A pale hand grasps at it and, when she looks up, North is holding it, his perfect lip wrinkled with distaste.

"You wanted effluvia," says Alex, with the barest shrug.

The man in the doorway, not a gray but a man, living and breathing and furious, startles her. SHe opens her mouth to speak but it's too late, he's already charging at her, barelling into her and slamming her back against the wall. Her head cracks against the windowsill and she sees stars, shock singing in her ears. His thick fingers curl around her throat and Alex claws at him, black spots already dancing at the corners of her eyes.

Not like this, she begs. Not like this. Not like this.

Van Nuys girl to the end, she jabs her fingers into his throat, like she'd wanted to do to Darlington that day he'd set Lethe's jackals on her. His grip loosens, which lets her suck in enough of a breath to slam her knee up between his legs. When he doubles over, Alex shoves past him, hurtling into the hallway but, shit, she can't remember where the fucking door is and he's right behind her and it shouldn't have been possible for him to be this quick but here he is and she has the chance to think portal magic before he's on her again, and he's broken her ribs, she knows that he has and every breath screams with pain. Before she can get past him again, he has his hands around her throat again.

"Nowhere to run, bitch."

North is at the edge of her vision, shouting, though all she can see is the working of his mouth - from this far, she can't hear a word. He wants her to let him in, doesn't he? It's the only chance she has. She reaches out her hand to him. She lets him in.

Everything after that is a blur. She hears his bones crunch: his fingers, his knees but he still manages to punch her hard enough to send her crashing to the floor. Even North's strength can't keep her standing. She goes under. And she's only dimly aware of Turner there, with his badge and his gun, saving the day. Her pain is like a time-lapse photograph, blooming all in one go, and Alex can barely keep herself standing. She just needs to get back to Il Bastone. She just needs to get back to Lethe, and then everything will be okay

Except Darlington won't be there, will he? So maybe everything is never going to be okay again…

She hears Dawes' voice, barely stumbles up the stairs to the armoury and props herself up against the side of Hiram's Crucible. It vibrates softly, gently. Alex keeps herself standing while Dawes strips her down and then she crawls into the crucible, sinking down into the liquid that's warm as a dream. As she closes her eyes, Alex wonders if the crucible could burn away her past, her present, make it so she would never have to see another gray. Is that what she really wants?

Hurting so deeply, Alex closes her eyes and lets herself sink.