[psl] 2015: Crawl 'til dawn, on our hands and knees

[firewatcher]

The end of the first night of the rest of her terrible garbage life saw Palmer in a situation she never imagined possible: in the first all-night diner she could find, sitting across the table from Vera Volkov, back from the dead.

Or—Liv Lazzari, now, wasn't it.

That was going to take some getting used to. That, and the fact that despite the drastic changes to her appearance, Vera—Liv—still didn't look a day older than when Palmer had seen her last, over twenty years ago. Not worth the price of admission, in Palmer's mind, but it felt a little unfair. Palmers tended to start showing age early, and she herself was no exception.

Palmer leaned on the slightly sticky table with one elbow, absentmindedly stirring her coffee with the other hand and biting back a yawn. "Is every night in hell this eventful?"

Comments

[firewatcher]

"It was a really stupid idea. I—nothing happened anyway. Something about how his ghost wasn't in this world but the underworld, nearby, or something?" The words spilled out of her mouth, running into each other. "Kind of a crock, I think. Not very convincing."

Palmer laughed, a little shakily. Tiredness? Nervousness? Difficult to tell. "I don't even know why I went through with it, honestly."

[wolfatyourdoor]

She wasn't done.

"What fucking gave you the right— Palmer. Of all the people... So it's some kind of bullshit to you, and you figure you're better off playing with my past instead?" Her voice had gone low enough to almost be a growl.

Then she tilted her head back, and let out a short, sharp laugh. "Fuck, you didn't even invite me to this reunion seance with my own family."

[firewatcher]

"Well, if he ever actually shows, I'll let you know. Or invite you to the next one." She ran a hand through her hair. "I guess you can pick some unfortunate figure from my past to be fair."

She shook her head. "Sorry," she said. "Like I said, it was stupid."

[wolfatyourdoor]

"Fucking right it was stupid. It was stupid and you didn't have the right."

Vera stood up, shrugging her jacket over her shoulders, and beginning to shove her notebook back in her bag.

Then she paused. "What is that even supposed to mean... him being nearby?"

[firewatcher]

Palmer hesitated, and then shook her head. "No idea. Sounded kind of like bullshit to me. You'd have to ask one of those ghost-whisperers, I guess." She looked away, started to put on her own coat. "He was part of my past, too, you know. We were friends."

[wolfatyourdoor]

Vera's expression froze very briefly in something like a cringe. Then she tilted her head back, eyes squeezed shut; held the pose for a long moment.

"Yeah. Yeah, he was—you were." She rummaged in a pocket and slapped a slightly crumpled twenty on the table, which ought to have been enough to cover the combined cost of two coffees and their bullshit. "And you fucked his sister."

She began to walk away.

[firewatcher]

Palmer clambered out of the booth with impressive speed considering how tired she was, only stumbling a little—"I don't remember her complaining," she hissed, attempting to grab Vera's shoulder. Her eyes narrowed, her other fist balled and recoiled as if she were ready to throw a punch.

She appeared to remember her surroundings, though—they were in public, after all, and she was still wearing her badge—and relaxed, slightly. Just slightly. Her voice was dark, bitter. "I never said I was a particularly good friend. I guess I should say to you, too, what I said I'd like to pass on to him, if they ever actually managed to contact him—sorry. Sorry I wasn't there. Sorry I couldn't do anything."

[wolfatyourdoor]

With her back turned, Vera hadn't been ready for that; Palmer's hand on her shoulder yanked her roughly around. Her own left hand was midway to one of the inner folds of her jacket; her teeth were gritted—almost bared.

But then Palmer spoke again, and she staggered. The hand dropped. Her expression crumbled.

And then she stepped backwards, jerking her shoulder away. "I've got plenty to hate you for, Maria." Her voice was pitched low. "So...just... trust me when I say: that one wasn't your fault."

She turned away again. "I need to— leave."

[firewatcher]

Palmer let her arm drop, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat. "I just—"

She sighed. "I'm tempted to ask what else I did, but somehow I'm sure I'll find out eventually. That, and I think we've scared the bejeezus out of the staff here enough today. We may have to find another diner to have that argument in." She shifted slightly on her feet. "I know it's not my fault. I mean, I have my educated guesses on whose fault it was, now, I just... never wanted you to get hurt. Family motto's 'protect what is ours', you know."

What a rollercoaster of a night this had been. "But—yeah, I guess I should probably go, too. I took the day off to sleep. I should probably actually do that instead of just telling people I'll sleep eventually."

[wolfatyourdoor]

Vera hesitated, and turned her head back over her shoulder, mouth partially open as if to say something more. Evidently she thought better of it, and for a long moment she just looked at Palmer instead.

"Yeah, you... go to bed. You have my number, now, if you... need anything. I mean, with this case, or your kid. I sleep at pretty weird hours, so don't worry about the time." The words were slow and slightly stilted.

"And, ah... I know I just fucking told you to 'trust me,' but you trust too many fucking people, Palmer."

With that, she began to walk away, boots heavy against the diner's tiled floor.

[firewatcher]

"Yeah," Palmer said, after a moment. "And... you have mine. And I'll remember that. Trust me, I wish I didn't need to, right now."

A pause. Vera was almost at the door.

"And if you're going to be this annoying about it, just call me Maria. It's weird to hear you call me 'Palmer', anyway."

[wolfatyourdoor]

Her hand was already pushing the diner's door open, but she stopped, then, and turned around to grin crookedly.

"Took you long enough. I'll chalk that up as another victory for my effortless charm." It was the kind of thing she might have said back in high school, enabling Palmer into cutting class.

She lifted her hand to her forehead in a mock salute, and then she was the rest of the way out the door.