Chapter Text
Eddie couldn’t shoot him.
She keeps thinking about it. About her finger on the trigger. The safety was off.
Eddie’s not a bad shot, actually. Top marks in all her tests, and she practises. But when Ray said he had a kid. When he reached for her, and time seemed to stretch. It wasn’t even that she couldn’t decide, she doesn’t think. She just froze up, like it was her first day on the job, like she was twenty-four again and had never held a gun before. Like a scared kid herself.
And she stayed frozen. Until it was too late. Until he had his hands on her, squeezing. Most people don’t realise how easy it is, to crush a person’s throat. Eddie’s handled her share of DV cases, and she knew it as it happened, knew she was going to die. As she fought, fought him anyway, pulling at his fingers. She knew it was hopeless. And then it wasn’t, anymore, because of Collins.
But it’s not only that she didn’t shoot. It’s not only that she could have died. It’s how Ray was always ten steps ahead: showing her what he wanted her to see next. Making her think it was one person, and then another. And even at the end, even when he went for her, Eddie couldn’t make herself kill him. She asked him – what, why he’d lied about the fucking donkey? What kind of police work was that?
Idiot. Useless fucking cunt, she was, couldn’t even protect her own partner, let alone anyone else. In some ways it’s worse than Bushy. Because this time Eddie was there. She was right there, and she didn’t stop him.
That hurts more than anything. Because – because if Eddie isn’t a good detective, then should she even be a detective anymore?
And if she isn’t a detective…well, then what the fuck is she? What the fuck is she good for, if not that?
Eddie doesn’t know. She should probably give it some thought at some point. For now, though, she seems to be hovering. Hovering around Collins.
It made sense at first. Her partner got stabbed, for fuck’s sake. So of course Eddie stayed with her and Cath in the hospital while the doctors did scans and ran tests and looked at clipboards, and machines went beep / beep / beep. There was something in Collins’s jacket pocket that stopped the blade going too deep – fucking miracle – but they still kept her overnight, so Eddie and Cath slept in some horrible plastic chairs that squeaked like farts anytime you moved. The next morning when Collins was released, Cath said, as though it was already decided, “Come on Eddie, you’re staying in our spare room.”
Eddie isn’t exactly staying in the spare room, strictly speaking. Eddie’s things are in the spare room. Eddie sleeps on the couch in the lounge room, where it’s comfier.
Or, no, okay; comfier isn’t the right word. But that first day, when she and Cath first brought Collins home from the hospital, and Collins lay there in bed looking so pale…Eddie just, she just needed to be somewhere where she could hear if Collins called for help. She needed to be in earshot, even though Cath was too.
That evening when Eddie woke up, the sun was coming into their lounge room at a low angle. Collins was still zonked out on painkillers upstairs, and Cath was puttering round the kitchen making soup. While she and Cath were eating Eddie kept listening out for sounds of movement from the stairs up to the bedroom, but Collins didn’t stir.
“Her injuries really aren’t bad, considering.” Cath’s look was serious. “So you don’t need to worry, okay? She’s going to be awake and talking to us soon enough. It’s the painkillers that are keeping her knocked out right now.”
Eddie nodded, looking toward the stairs.
Cath put her hand over Eddie’s. It was warm. “She’s going to be fine, Eddie.”
“Yeah, of course,” Eddie said, and made herself smile. “Course she’ll be right.”
The next day Cath had to go out and check on a few of her animal patients. “Since you’re here, would you mind staying at home today? Just in case she needs anything.” Eddie said yes, and tried to look a normal amount of happy-to-be-helpful.
But the truth was – fuck, yes, she wanted to fucking stay with Collins. To be nearby, to be able to see and know that Collins was still alive. Eddie didn’t actually keep a watch at her bedside, because she’s not some massive creep. But she still came up the stairs and listened outside the bedroom door every once in a while, just to hear Collins breathing.
Eddie thinks maybe men that like Buffy should count as a red flag, for the future. Or an orange one, anyway. She hasn’t decided.
So Eddie helped Collins to the bathroom and back to bed, those first few days, when Cath was out making her rounds and Collins needed a hand. Eddie went out and got her a shower chair, so she could wash (well, it’s a hot orange plastic patio chair from the Hunt & Gut). She doesn’t know how to cook, but she sort of…fixes Collins meals, some of the time. She walks the dogs and does the washing up, and she brings Collins stuff: a box of tissues, or a cup of tea, or a book, or her phone charger, so she can stay in bed. She reminds Collins when to take her meds.
Eddie can tell Collins isn’t used to being taken care of like this. Eddie hasn’t taken care of anybody before, like this – not an adult, anyway – and she thinks she might not be very good at it. They both find the whole situation a bit weird. But Eddie hasn’t left, and Collins hasn’t asked her to, and neither has Cath. Even though, five days later, it’s clear that Eddie’s not needed here, not really. That she’s hovering.
She definitely doesn’t need to still be sleeping on the couch like some sort of fucking guard dog. But it feels like her spot, she reckons. When Cath comments on it Eddie says it’s comfier than the spare room. Cath doesn’t say anything, but her eyes get that look again, serious and warm. Like she’s maybe glad Eddie’s here, even as weird as all this is.
Eddie’s glad, if Cath’s okay with it. It’s not like Eddie’s needed anywhere else.
But at least Collins is starting to be awake some of the time now. She still dozes off a lot, and the pain meds make her a bit loopy. But Eddie guesses it’s good, if she’s awake enough to start to get bored between naps. One day Eddie has the idea to play cards, and Collins is game. So Eddie brings up the bicycle deck from downstairs, along with a pot of the tea Collins likes. And then Eddie pulls up a chair to the side of the bed, while Collins starts to explain how you play gin rummy.
“So you’re mostly trying to get sets of three,” she’s saying. “It can be three that are all the same, like three sevens, or three jacks or something; or you can do three that go in order: four five six, or ten jack queen. Things like that.”
“Yeah, okay,” says Eddie. It’s familiar, sort of, and anyway it’s not that complicated. “Think I maybe played it once before.” She rearranges her cards and then slouches forward on the side of the bed, propping her head on her elbow. She’s got a pair of twos, but nothing to go with them. “How’d you learn?” she asks.
“I used to play sometimes with my sisters,” Collins says. “And once or twice at the Church youth group.”
Eddie cracks a smile, making a mental note to tease her about that when she’s feeling better. Collins draws a card and then discards a four, and Eddie picks it up, then puts down a king.
Eddie never used to drink tea, she thinks as they take their turns. But she likes it, likes having something warm in her hand. It’s maybe almost nicer to hold than to drink – how the mug’s a bit heavy. The gritty way the bottom feels. At home Eddie just uses the normal factory-made mugs, but the ones Cath likes are interesting, with their different blue and green finishes. Like if a fairy were to take a handful of mud, and twist it into something pretty.
It’s Collins’s turn, but she’s been thinking a while, and when Eddie looks at her she’s falling asleep. Her cards are tilting, tilting even more, so much so that Eddie can’t help seeing them, now. Sleep’s what she needs, though, so Eddie stays quiet, lays her cards down face-up as Collins’s head falls fully back onto the pillow, her neck gone slack.
Collins’s face looks different, the more it relaxes. Her eyelids look thin, and Eddie can see the lenses moving behind them, just a bit. Everyone looks younger when they’re sleeping, Eddie knows. But it’s never not a surprise, seeing someone that way for the first time – and way more with Collins, somehow.
Probably it’s just because of how it was when they were working. At work Collins was always so buttoned up, even her face. In bed she looks more like an animal: how her mouth’s open; how she twitches as she starts to dream. Her hair’s messed up on one side, pinned under her head like a rumpled blanket.
Eddie sort of has to piss. The tea’s gone right through her. But she maybe doesn’t want to move right now, not yet. She likes the light in their bedroom, from the big window. The sky’s overcast today, and she can see some birds way up high, passing over. The birds are heading north, like Eddie knows she should be.
But...well, there’s no harm in it, is there? There’s no harm taking a few more days down here, to regroup. To be with Collins, while she’s resting; to make sure she’s okay. To play cards and watch her breathe, and just be quiet.
Collins is twitching in her sleep. Her hand stirs, like a reflex, and the cards slip out of it, falling on the blanket. Collins’s hands look so different to Eddie’s own, with their long fingers and their big knuckles. Eddie likes how they move when she dreams: like there’s something they have to do. Like her hands have minds of their own, like maybe they’re dreaming too. What do hands dream of?
Eddie’s head is nodding, where it’s propped on her elbow. If she’s not careful she’s going to fall asleep here, slumped over onto the side of the bed. She’s almost tempted, but – nah. She’d end up with a massive crick in her neck, and anyway, she really does have to piss. She gathers up the tea things and heads downstairs.
________
One week later Collins announces that she’s ready to come and sit at the table for dinner. Eddie’s noticed she’s looking a bit better – she’s not sleeping quite as much now, and the pink’s coming back into the apples of her cheeks. Soup’s supposed to be the best thing for when somebody’s under the water, and Cath has been cooking it faithfully, but Eddie figures Collins might be ready for something more solid.
And anyway, Eddie feels like making something special, to celebrate her being on the mend. Eddie’s asked, and Collins doesn’t have any things she can’t eat. It’s mainly just the muscles that got damaged, apparently.
So with Cath at home to watch over the patient, Eddie borrows the car and makes another run to the store. She gets chops, veg, lighter fluid and charcoal. By five o’clock she’s cleaned out their barbecue and is finishing up the vegetable kebabs, and by five fifteen they’re sitting down to a lovely dinner, smokey and greasy with plenty of sauce. Eddie doesn’t know proper cooking, but a barbecue, she does know.
The dinner table turns out to be too ambitious, but Cath has the idea to relocate to the kitchen counter instead, which is taller, so they eat standing up. “It’s really good, Eddie,” says Cath, and Collins nods a strong agreement as she chews. Her lips and cheeks are rosy from the spice, though Eddie thought she was keeping it mild. When Eddie teases her about her low tolerance, Collins rolls her eyes and purses her lips to hide her smile, and something in Eddie’s chest relaxes that she didn’t know was tight. She’s still getting used to seeing Collins smile.
Cath’s made a trifle to round out the meal, and while they’re digging into that Cath says, “You know Eddie, it’s going take us a while to sell the house.”
Eddie nods. Cath’s said they’re planning to move away from Deadloch.
Then Collins says, “We’re hoping you’ll stay until then,” which Eddie had not expected. She looks back and forth between them, now starting to feel pretty warm herself. Cath nods and smiles.
“Yeah?” Eddie feels herself start to grin. “That’d be good, yeah.”
“Yeah,” Collins says. And then, a bit haltingly, “We’ve both been through the wringer, lately. In different ways. It’s been really good, having you here.” It’s so unexpected and so sincere, even if the delivery was a bit awkward. Eddie smiles back, touched.
And then Collins reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand in her own giant one, lacing her long fingers through Eddie’s, and for some reason that is hugely fucking erotic.
Eddie gasps, covers it with a cough and pulls her hand away from Collins, like she just really needed to reach for her water glass right then. But seriously, what the fuck?! She glances at Cath, who’s watching them, and shitfuck, did Eddie seem normal? She clears her throat a couple times. “So, where you thinking you might, ah, might want to move to?”
At this, Cath launches into the research they’ve been doing: the places they’ve looked at, the ones they’ve ruled out. Et cetera. Eddie nods and makes a listening noise here and there, while she does her best to breathe like a normal fucking person and not like she’s having some sort of panic attack. But, seriously – what?
It’s not even that she’s a woman, it’s that she’s Collins. She’s got a giant fucking stick up her arse, and when she gets annoyed she looks like if a mouse had been shaved all over its body and really didn’t like it, and she’s literally pursed her lips so many times that her face has stuck like that. Fucking terminal case of the Lesbian Deathbed, you don’t have to look hard to see it, probably doesn’t even come until she gets spanked or something. Which is not –
– Okay wait, what –
– Which is not a thing, that Eddie’s – thinking about – Jesus Christ, what the shit is up with her today –
– And on top of all that, she is fully married. To Cath. And they absolutely do not need any more shit to come up in their marriage, thank you very much; and it’s not like Collins would ever look at Eddie like that anyway. So, this is not happening. It’s not.
Nah. Probably Eddie just has the horn in a weird confused way because of how all of that went down with Ray. Needs a couple good wanks and then she’ll be fine again. That’s all it is, just some weird glitch thing. Eddie’s hands are just one of those gegrogenous zones, or whatever you call them. She glances at Collins.
Collins is looking back at her and for a second Eddie thinks she looks…maybe a bit thoughtful, or something.
But then it’s gone, so Eddie probably imagined it.
________
The three of them settle into a rhythm as Collins gets sturdier. Eddie and Cath do the shopping and walk the dogs, and Eddie stays home daytimes so Collins isn’t alone. She makes an effort to keep things tidy around the house – historically not her strongest area, but she really doesn’t want Collins to have to bend or stoop while her injury’s mending. In the kitchen Eddie’s put the bowls and plates on the middle shelves right above the counter, so Collins doesn’t have to crouch down if she wants one, or lift anything up too high. Eddie also went and got her some of those supplements Holly liked after the C-section, the kind that help things knit back together when you’ve been hurt.
And Collins is getting better. She doesn’t need help on the stairs anymore, and she’s fixing her own meals again. She can sit for a few minutes now, as long as she turns the chair backward, leans her chest on it for support. Now that she’s up and about instead of sleeping all day, it starts to feel almost like a holiday. Or like a stay-at-home one, anyway.
It’s different, being around Collins, now that they’re not working. And now that they’re not under constant stress. At work Collins was always so closed-off. Here at home she wears soft old grey jumpers in the mornings. She smiles, and even cracks a joke some of the time. She wears her hair down, when she’s on her way to bed, or if it’s drying after a wash. She kisses her wife.
And she touches Eddie, way more than Eddie would have expected. Not in a horny way, just normal stuff: squeezing Eddie’s hand for a second to say thank you for something. Patting her shoulder as she passes by. Eddie likes it.
Or, most of the time she likes it. There was one more glitch yesterday, when she was doing dishes and Collins came up behind her and laid one hand on her shoulder while she used the other to tuck in Eddie’s shirt tag. Eddie jumped and felt herself go red, and Collins muttered “Oh, sorry,” as she walked away, not even looking, like she thought Eddie was just startled. That shit was off. Eddie thinks maybe it’s menocause coming on, she’s heard that can bring on weird shit sometimes.
“How’s things with the missus?” Eddie asks one day, while Cath is out making her rounds. They’re playing gin rummy at the dining table. Eddie’s not that into cards, historically, but she likes gin, likes how it’s not too complicated – something where it’s easy to talk while they play.
Collins is sitting backward in her chair, straddling the seat and leaning her chest against the back of it. Her hair’s damp from the shower, the water seeping into the shoulders of her jumper. “Oh…it’s a work in progress,” she replies. “Better, though. We’ve had some good talks.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” says Collins slowly, as she takes her turn. “We were both being pretty stupid, I think. For a while. But we’re sorting it out now.”
Yeah. Cath’s apologised for withholding evidence during the case, and Eddie has mostly forgiven her now. Mostly. Even though that was seriously off.
To be fair, Eddie sort of gets how at the time it seemed harmless. Cath’s a civilian, is all. She trusts people.
“Good,” says Eddie. She takes her turn and draws…an ace. Motherfucker. “How you going with that couples’ counsellor?”
“No, we stopped with her. Wasn’t a good fit. We’ll find someone else, from somewhere.” Eddie nods. She never liked that Claire.
They play a few more turns before Collins says, “To be honest, I think having someone else here’s been helping. Sort of…gives us room to breathe, or something. Someone else to bounce off of. It’s made things feel easier.”
“Huh.” Eddie cracks a smile at that, picturing three pinballs in a pinball machine, all pinging off each other. She reaches out and prods Collins in the shoulder with one forefinger – “Ping!” she says – and then makes her finger ricochet off and up. Collins waves her away, annoyed, but she’s smiling too.
It’s funny, Eddie thinks. Collins doesn’t seem to really have any mates. Well, Eddie guesses she used to have Skye. But how close were they? Were they best mates – the kind where you talk about everything? It didn’t seem that way.
Eddie discards her ace. “What you reckon you’ll do when you move?” When Eddie’s no longer around, to bounce off of.
Collins shrugs. “We’ll work it out. Get separate hobbies, or something.”
“Another dog,” says Eddie innocently.
Collins does that thing again, where she purses her lips to stop a smirk. “Don’t say that where she can hear you.” Eddie rearranges her cards.
After another minute Collins sighs. “I know she was acting a bit…crazy, for a while. But, well…I really wasn’t helping us, either, you know, with saying yes to everything. Pretending we were fine.” She looks sad. “I can be a fucking idiot, too, sometimes. As it turns out.”
“Yeah, well.” Eddie draws a card. Another ace. “Who amongst us, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” says Collins. Then after a beat she asks Eddie, “Have you had many relationships?”
Eddie’s not sure how to answer that. “Depends how you mean,” she says after a second. “Been sort of married to my work a long while.” Collins nods. “Plus I can be a real idiot too,” Eddie admits. “I figure that’s just relationships, mate. Hindsight’s always fifty-fifty.”
“...Twenty-twenty?”
Eddie shrugs. “Tomayto, potahto.”
Collins smiles, just a bit. Eddie decides to count it.
Then Collins discards a seven, the cunt. Eddie’s never going to get anything good, not the way this is going.
After a minute Eddie says, “I don’t think I ever heard you swear before.”
“What?” says Collins, then thinks about it. “Oh. I guess you wouldn’t, not at work.”
“Used to think maybe your mouth didn’t work that way.”
“My mouth works just fine, Detective.”
Detective. Eddie looks down at her cards, as if she’s just taking her time, thinking about her next move.
Collins takes her turn, discarding a jack, and Eddie draws another ace. How many fucking aces are in this deck, anyway? Was it a club she discarded, before, or a spade? She rearranges her hand again, thinking. She has no melds at all, at this point.
“Ed?” says Collins, after a minute, and Eddie looks up in surprise. “It’s your turn.”
Huh.
“...Yeah,” she says after a second. “Yeah, I know. Got shit for cards, that’s all. You sure you shuffled this lot?”
Ed, says Eddie, in her head, to try it out. She doesn’t dislike it, it’s just…new.
She can see Collins watching her reaction. Finally Collins says, “Look, I know you’re not Batman, but can you just tell me if –”
“Yeah,” says Eddie. “Yeah, I reckon that works.” Collins looks relieved.
________
After much discussion they’re calling the new dog Aggie, short for Agador-Spartacus. Eddie’s not sure why a dog needs two names. It’s some movie reference of Cath’s, to do with her crooning voice when she howls. They’re trying to train her not to do that.
One day, setting out to walk Fern and Aggie, Eddie can’t find her raincoat. Possibly it’s disappeared into the growing shitstorm of her belongings that is the spare room. She grabs Cath’s one from the hooks by the door and throws it on, and it’s not until she’s at the dog park that she notices it smells nice. Really nice, like herbs or something, and grass, and a tiny bit like sweat. It’s sort of familiar, maybe. She grabs at the fleece-lined collar, presses her face into it for a second. Smells like…
…smells like that jacket of Collins’s, that Eddie borrowed that one time during the case. Huh.
Okay, yeah, in hindsight – that explains why the sleeves are so fucking long.
For some reason it gets Eddie thinking. She used to touch Collins all the time. A bit of space, please, she can remember Collins snapping at her, more than once – at the station, in the squad car. Eddie didn’t exactly decide to stop, didn’t make an effort. But she doesn’t do it anymore, she hardly touches Collins at all these days. Even though Collins touches her all the time now. Weird.
Eddie wears Collins’s raincoat home, and doesn’t bother looking for her own. She can just borrow this one again, when she needs.
________
Cath’s out at choir tonight, and doing some sort of meditation thingy afterward. Collins and Eddie are watching a documentary on the couch when the power flickers and goes out.
Collins sighs, looking annoyed. “It’s probably the grid again,” she says. This happened once a few days ago, too, and Eddie can almost see the nearest neighbours off along their street – or anyway, she can see the dark spot where their window would be, if it were lit.
“Yeah,” she says. “Think you’re right. Stay there.” No point going for the fuse box, then. Eddie heads for the downstairs storage, where the torches and candles live.
When Eddie comes back up carrying the unlit candles, she almost thinks for a second that Collins has disappeared. But then she gets closer and sees that Collins is lying down flat on her back on the couch. “Having a twinge,” she says, and Eddie nods in understanding. This happens sometimes – not that often, but once in a while. She’s all right again if she can lie flat a few minutes.
Eddie sets the candles down on the end table and starts to head for the kitchen, to get the lighter from next to the stove, but right then Collins grimaces and says “Bum. Nope.” She rolls onto her side, so that she can push herself up with her arms without straining her stomach muscles.
Eddie comes closer, watching her, forcing herself not to rush over – because she’s learned that Collins is proud about this sort of thing, she doesn’t like to be helped if she can avoid it, not about physical stuff. But Collins says, “I’m all right. Just need a little time on the floor, I think.”
Eddie winces. It must be a bad one. The floor’s good for that, when it happens – something about the hard surface seems to help, like she can relax with better support or something. Eddie grabs Cath’s yoga mat and unrolls it, and Collins settles herself down onto the thin layer of purple squish while Eddie goes for the lighter and lights the two candles.
Then after a second Eddie goes to the spare room and gets the blankets and pillows from the bed. Normally she brings out a blanket and one pillow to the couch at night, but this time she grabs the lot. “Oh, thanks Ed,” says Collins as Eddie passes her a pillow. She settles it under her head, and Eddie drapes the doona over her.
“Yeah,” says Eddie. “Might as well get comfortable.” Eddie plops the second pillow down next to her, and Collins looks maybe a bit surprised for a second. But not displeased, so Eddie goes ahead and settles herself down on the floor, too, and covers herself with the other blanket. They lie there for a minute and Eddie laces her fingers together behind her head, her elbows out to either side, and crosses her legs at the ankle.
The room looks different in this light, she notices. Like how the texture of the couch fabric looks rougher, like a burlap, even though it’s actually soft. She looks up at the big bookshelf full of all their things. “You and Cath sure have a lot of board games.”
Collins nods. “Yeah. Cath used to like to host a game night sometimes.” Her ponytail seems to be bothering her, and she reaches up and tugs it out. Then she pushes her fingers back through her hair, so it piles up around her head on the pillow.
Huh. “Used to?” Eddie repeats.
“Less since the pandemic. We sort of got out of the habit.”
And also, the thing with Skye means one of their best friends isn’t really around anymore. But Eddie doesn’t say it out loud. “How many of ’em you think you’ll keep?” she asks instead. “When you move.”
“I don’t know.” Collins is still massaging her scalp with her fingertips, rubbing her thumbs against her temples. “Cath’s handling that, since she’s more into them than me. She says she wants to play a few of them one more time before we let them go.”
Eddie nods, looking at the boxes. The colours are muted in the candlelight, everything tinted a bit yellow. “What sort of games you like?” she asks.
Collins sort of shrugs with her hand. “These.”
“Not you-and-Cath,” says Eddie. “Just you, I mean.”
“Oh,” says Collins. Then after a second she says, “Strategy, I guess.”
“Yeah?” says Eddie, looking at her. “Like chess, and go, and ones like that?”
“Not so much those, no,” says Collins, thoughtfully. “They’re all right. But I like when there’s more…complexity, or something. More distractions.”
Interesting. “Why more distractions?”
“It gives the other players more to deal with,” Collins murmurs. “They show things they wouldn’t otherwise.”
Huh, thinks Eddie. Good answer. “Makes sense,” she says after a second. “Sort of sounds like work, a bit. When you say it that way.”
“Oh, it’s not like that at work,” says Collins mildly. “You know it isn’t. Not just playing a game with friends, with nothing at stake.”
She’s splitting hairs, but Eddie lets it go.
“Do you like board games?” says Collins after a second, glancing at her, and Eddie rolls her head from side to side noncommittally, on top of her laced fingers.
“Eh,” she says. “Comme ci comme ça.” Collins nods and settles one long arm back behind her head on the floor, the other by her side.
That’s something else that’s different about her, here: how she wears tee shirts some of the time, when she’s at home. Her underarm hair’s peeking out a tiny bit, right now; it’s darker than the stuff on her head. Eddie gazes back up at the ceiling, and they’re quiet a minute.
Then Eddie says conversationally, “You ever notice how ceilings have faces in ’em?”
Collins turns her head to the side to look at her. “Hm?”
“It’s ’cause of Peary Dahlia,” Eddie explains. She’s not sure why she’s saying this right now, but it is interesting. She loves this sort of thing: how people’s minds work. How sometimes there’s something everyone can see, even though it’s not there.
“Do you mean pareidolia?” says Collins. She likes to repeat things that way, Eddie’s noticed.
“Like there,” Eddie goes on, and she points up at the ceiling, where there’s a crack in the plaster. “Sort of like when somebody gets a crisp that looks like Jesus, or something. See, there’s like a chin, and then one eye, like he’s in profile.”
Collins looks. “Huh,” she says after a second, sounding surprised. “I never saw that before.”
“Yeah,” says Eddie. “One time when I was a kid I took down all the glow stars from the ceiling in our room. And then afterward there was something else behind.”
“Hm,” says Collins, thoughtfully. She’s looking at the ceiling, at the face Eddie showed her. “Funny,” she says after a moment. “It feels like it should be spooky, but it isn’t.”
“Yeah,” says Eddie, pleased. She hoped Collins would get it. “Sort of like a person. Like if you had a mate that you could look at when you want.” Collins nods. “I always thought,” says Eddie, “if I ever lived somewhere that was just blank, I’d have to take a pen and draw one up there. But it hasn’t happened, so far. Everywhere I live, there’s at least one if you look.”
“It’s not like you’re ever home alone here anyway,” says Collins. “There’s always at least me.”
Huh. As if there’s someone else Eddie’d rather be hanging out with. “At least,” she repeats, giving her a look, and Collins smiles, still looking up at the ceiling. There’s a companionable sort of quiet.
Outside it’s started to rain. Eddie likes the way it sounds, tapping on the windows. With the power off the fridge is quiet, and all their other various electronic shit. It’s not like it’s noisy in here normally, but there’s something different now, about this kind of quiet.
“I never light candles,” says Collins after a few moments. “I guess I just never think of it. But I like them. Maybe we could keep them out here, even after the power comes back on.”
“Reckon maybe it makes the faces easier to see,” says Eddie thoughtfully. “The flickering. Makes your eyes…easier to trick, or something.”
“Hm,” says Collins in surprise. “Yeah, maybe.” When Eddie glances at her she looks pleased, like maybe she didn’t expect Eddie to say that. Collins turns her head and looks at Eddie. Eddie likes how some of her hair is sticking up at the back, like a bird with its feathers all fucked-up by wind. “Did you ever play Bloody Mary, when you were little?” Collins asks.
Eddie rolls over onto her side to face her, as she thinks back. “That that spooky one where you look in the mirror?” she says, and Collins nods. “Think Jess tried it with her mate once, when she was about nine.” Scared themselves shitless and then Jess wet her bed later, and had to sleep with Eddie.
“Seems sort of similar to this,” says Collins, looking at Eddie. “When you look in the mirror long enough your eyes play tricks on you, because of the dark.”
“Hm,” says Eddie, and she props her head on her elbow. “Yeah, okay.” She likes the way Collins sounds when she’s relaxed – how her voice gets slower, and a bit deeper. Was there like a historical Bloody Mary? Eddie can’t remember right now. She could check it if she went and got her phone, but she doesn’t want to move.
Finally Collins sighs. “I should get up soon,” she says. She sounds regretful. “The floor is good. The hard surface. But I probably shouldn’t stay here all night or my bum’ll go completely to sleep.” Eddie considers making a joke about that – Collins is way too much fun to tease – but for some reason she doesn’t want to, not right now.
Then after another moment Collins turns her head and looks at Eddie curiously. “Why do you sleep out here, anyway?” she asks. “On the couch.”
Oh.
“I don’t have to,” Eddie says, wondering if she’s read it wrong. If it’s been an issue, if maybe she’s been in the way, even though nobody’s said. She’s a deep sleeper, so she doesn’t think Collins and Cath have been tiptoeing around her in the mornings, but –
Well, actually, how would she know, if she sleeps through it? Hm.
“I can sleep in the spare room, if that’s better,” Eddie says, to feel it out. “Give the couch back.”
Collins looks surprised. She rolls herself onto her side, leading with her hips and then following it with her torso, and rests her head on her forearm. Then she slides her other hand the short distance toward Eddie, palm down against the carpet; for a second it’s almost like she’s about to take Eddie’s hand, where it’s resting there, but she doesn’t.
“I like you here,” she says softly. “I like it when I walk past.”
Oh. Huh.
Eddie’s not sure why she feels sort of…warm, or something, about that. But…hm. It’s maybe nice, that Collins likes it. Likes to see her here. There’s a beat of quiet, while they just look at each other, and Eddie wonders what Collins is thinking about.
Right then there’s the sound of the ute pulling up to the house, and the engine cutting off. Collins twitches, moves to get up, and the front door opens.
“Did the power really go out again,” Cath is sighing from the entryway. “I’ll call them in the morning and ask what’s happening, I’m too relaxed now. Meditation was – oh, are you having floor time?” she says, smiling as she spots them.
“We were,” says Collins, now pushing herself up. “But I’m better now.” Eddie holds herself back from helping, but she can’t stop herself watching Collins to make sure she’s okay. She’s moving a bit easier now, like the floor helped her reset.
“I think it’s my bedtime,” says Collins as she gets herself up onto the couch, and from there pushes herself all the way up. It doesn’t take as long as it would have, last week.
“Same for me, in a few minutes,” says Cath, kissing her a quick hello. “Do you need anything? You have your audiobook?”
Collins smiles, and nods. “Thanks, love. I can move fine now, it was just a twinge.” She does seem okay, Eddie thinks.
Eddie’s feeling pretty relaxed, too. She thinks maybe she’ll turn in herself, when Cath’s done taking off her coat and things. Eddie gathers up the blankets and both the pillows and plops herself down on the couch, and then she looks up at Collins for a second, who’s glancing back as she leaves the room. Collins sees her there, and Eddie catches a little glimpse of her smile, before she turns and starts up the stairs.
Eddie settles down and wraps the blankets round herself. It’s even softer with the second pillow here. She’ll have to remember to bring it again, for the future.
________
Eddie and Cath have started watching TV together sometimes in the evenings, and Cath crochets while Eddie works on detangling Cath’s massive yarn stash. It’s not too complex a puzzle, but it’s still nice, seeing the great snarl of a mess slowly turn into neat tidy little balls. And Eddie likes having something to do with her hands.
Tonight they’re watching a movie: some Norwegian one about spooky lesbians, that Cath picked. While it’s starting Cath rubs some lotion on her face and neck. Then she starts to fidget and swipe at her hair, as it drifts in the breeze from the heating vent and sticks to her skin. “Can you pass me my brush?” she says to Eddie. “From behind you.”
Eddie grabs the brush and scoots closer, on impulse. “Let me try something,” she says.
“Try what?” says Cath as she turns and lets Eddie brush her hair back away from her face.
“Haven’t done a French braid in a while. Wondering if I still know how.”
“French braid?” says Cath in surprise. “You?”
“Yeah. Used to do one for my little sis, when our nan’s hands got too arthritic. Make her look good for school, you know. She’s different to me, she likes to look all pretty.”
“Huh,” says Cath, and moves to sit on the floor, to give Eddie a better angle. “Sure, go for it.” Eddie can sort of see Cath’s tits down her shirt, now.
Eddie sets to her task with pleasure. This is much nicer than detangling yarn. She separates out Cath’s fringe and parts the hair right behind it into three sections. “Where does she live?” asks Cath. “Your sister.”
“Perth. Haven’t seen her in a while, since she’s so busy. She’s a lawyer, like you. Got a flashy fiancé now,” she adds, then repents of it. “Nah. He’s a good bloke. Just got big sparkly teeth, but it’s not his fault.”
Cath’s titties chuckle. “You always do that, don’t you?”
“Hm?”
“Poke fun at people for good things.” Eddie can feel Cath relaxing into her touch. Eddie does remember how to do this, as it turns out. “Big eyes,” Cath goes on. “Sparkly white teeth.”
Huh. “Yeah, okay, I guess I do do that.”
“With people you like?”
“...Sometimes, yeah,” Eddie mutters, sheepish. Cath has a way of calling attention to stuff Eddie doesn’t normally say out loud. Naming feelings, or whatever. It’s not a bad thing, Eddie guesses. Bit weird, is all. Cath lays her hand on Eddie’s foot and squeezes gently, and Eddie smiles.
“You could have her come stay a few days, if you like. If she has time, while we’re still here.”
Huh. Eddie wasn’t expecting that. She’s not sure if it’d work out – Jess is mainly way too busy, these days – but she might like Deadloch, at least to visit. “Yeah, maybe. Thanks, mate.”
“After all, you don’t seem to really be using the spare room, do you. Not to sleep, at least.”
“It’s a good couch. Don’t knock it ’til you try it.”
Eddie’s nearly finished, but there’s no elastic close by. She takes the strands of the braid in one hand for a moment, reaches for the elastic in her own hair and tugs it out.
“I did try it,” says Cath vaguely, “last year when Aleyna and Gez were fighting with her parents about her mum’s bursitis and they needed somewhere else to put them for a couple of – oh, hi Sexy,” Cath smiles, turning her head.
“Oi!” snaps Eddie as Collins settles onto the couch next to her. “Chin forward, please!” But it’s too late now, everything is slipping, the whole braid’s a wonky mess. “Agh,” Eddie complains, “nope, too late, you’ve fucked it.” She picks up the brush again with a sigh.
“Shit. Sorry,” says Cath.
“What are you watching?” asks Collins.
“Thelma,” says Cath, this time without turning her head. Eddie brushes out her work and begins again. “You’d like it. You should join us, if you’re not too tired.”
“Yeah,” says Collins, “thanks, love.” Eddie hears her setting her drink down. Then, “Is that my jumper?”
“Nup,” says Eddie.
“That is absolutely my jumper.”
“I’ve pissed on it. Belongs to me now.”
“You’re disgusting,” says Collins, but she doesn’t sound angry, as she lays one hand on Eddie’s back.
On screen one of the lesbians is levitating. Eddie’s not sure if she’s completely following the story, but she likes it anyway, likes having it on. It’s pretty, and odd, like having someone’s dream playing in the background. Eddie hasn’t spent that much time around lesbians before now, but she likes them. They’re such a clever people, with the things they make. Like elves.
Eddie feels the couch cushion dip as Collins scoots closer to her and picks up the brush.
And then Collins scoots in even closer and starts brushing Eddie’s hair, sweeping it back from her temples and carding it smooth with her warm fingers.
Eddie freezes as all the blood in her body rushes to her cunt. What the – what the fucking fuck –
Eddie manages not to gasp out loud, this time. But…but then she can’t figure out how to fucking breathe without it coming out sounding like a porno. She makes herself take a slow breath and let it out.
Collins lays a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Ed? You okay?” she murmurs.
“Yeah,” Eddie mutters. “Watching the movie.” Her voice sounds normal and not like she’s about to die from being too turned on.
There’s got to be some way she can ask Collins to stop, without sounding like a fucking weirdo. And also without letting on that some parts of her (namely her cunt, and also increasingly her titties) actually really do not want Collins to stop. But Eddie does not know what that way is. She can’t think properly right now.
Eddie’s hands are still full of Cath’s hair, and if she stops too long, Cath’ll notice something’s off. Slowly, Eddie begins to braid again. Or, she sort of does; she can’t really concentrate too well. Collins shifts again to get a better angle and reorganise her endless fucking legs –
– and then she tucks one bent leg in between Eddie’s body and the back of the couch, and suddenly the inside of her thigh is right up against the small of Eddie’s back, where Eddie’s shirt is rucked up. Their skin is touching, because Collins is in those soft little shorts she wears to bed sometimes. And Collins obviously doesn’t mean anything by it, she just carries on as if they sit like this all the time. The bristles of the brush score against Eddie’s scalp just a bit, and she does her best to breathe quietly and to not whimper, but oh. Shitting Christ.
Eddie’s head position has drifted, and Collins makes a gentle little chiding sound and reaches one of her giant hands up to grasp Eddie by the forehead from above and reposition her (Eddie feels like a basketball being palmed). And then Collins mutters “good girl” under her breath, like Eddie is one of the dogs, or Kevin the fucking seal. She’s obviously not heard herself, has no idea she’s spoken. It’s so horrifying that for a second Eddie thinks she’s going to start to laugh and never stop.
But then Collins’s fingers are stroking up the sides of her head as she begins to braid. She’s not hurting Eddie, nowhere close, but she’s not shy either, knows how to pull hard enough to keep tension. No one’s braided Eddie’s hair since she was tiny – not since she put her foot down about shit like that, circa age three – and that’s a whole other level of weird to this; but Eddie can’t move, she can’t pay attention to anything right now except Collins’s fingers in her hair, that triangle of skin against her back.
Because – because she’s trying not to think about it. She’s really trying. But Eddie knows why Collins keeps her nails short and blunt like this, she knows it’s for finger-fucking reasons. And Eddie can feel those faint little edges pressing against her scalp right now, parting her hair into sections.
And there’s like – there’s like a mental image that Eddie can’t quite get out of her head, involving those fingers – and Collins licking them clean before she slides them back into –
Eddie can’t focus. There’s no hope. Cath’s braid is going to be the worst braid in the history of braids.
And also the fastest, Eddie decides. The sooner she’s done the sooner she can get the fuck out of this room. She takes up another section of Cath’s hair, and another, and fuck it, that’s good enough. Eddie braids everything all together, lumpy and uneven, until she gets to the very end, and finishes it off with the elastic. It’s the sloppiest braid she’s ever done in her life. Cath’s head looks like it got in a fight with a wood chipper, and lost.
“You know what,” Eddie says, “I am actually going to go and…have a shower. Sorry, Cath, I think I’m a bit more out of practice than I thought,” and Cath is saying something about how they can pause the movie and wait for her if she likes. Eddie just wants to get up and leave but Collins is holding onto her hair, to stop the braid unravelling, and Eddie doesn’t want to swat at her like a weirdo to get her to let go.
“Well, would you like me to finish?” says Collins, sounding surprised and confused. Eddie twists in place awkwardly to face her, ready to say Thanks but no thanks mate, I’ve got to go off and wank myself into oblivion –
“It’s nearly done,” says Collins, her one hand still holding on, “I’ve only got –”
But right as Eddie’s shifting round to push herself forward and up, Collins goes to reorganise her legs again and actually ends up coming forward a bit too, toward Eddie. And then suddenly they’re much closer together than they meant to be –
– their faces are much closer together –
– and it’s so surprising that Eddie looks up, into Collins’s eyes, just for a second.
Collins trails off talking, and something in her expression shifts. And then Collins is looking at her…in recognition. In understanding. In shock, and also very definitely in something else.
Collins lets her hand slide out of Eddie’s hair and Eddie scoots away, sort of stumbling a bit as she hops off the couch, but she gets her feet under her and looks quickly at Cath, who’s bent over hunting for the remote and clearly did not see…whatever the fuck that was. Thank fuck.
“Yeah, nah,” says Eddie, “not really my style, mate.” Eddie thinks she’s being weird but she can’t fucking help it, because Collins is just…staring at her, still, with her mouth open and that same stunned look on her face, that same hunger. “Reckon I’ll turn in,” says Eddie, “have myself an early night.”
“Aw. Okay,” says Cath as she surfaces from searching behind the cushions. “G’night, Eddie –”
“Yep. Too-rah,” Eddie yelps, and flees.
Eddie barely makes it to the bathroom. She turns on the shower and the fan for noise cover, but she doesn’t even manage to take off her pants. She just leans back against the locked door, unzips her zip, jams a hand down into her undies and rubs her clit, thinking about the way Collins looked at her, the way her face changed when she realised – when she realised what Eddie –
– thinking about the way she felt Collins watch her leave the room, about how Collins maybe even knows what Eddie’s doing right now –
Eddie comes so hard she screams, she can’t stop herself. In desperation she rolls her head to the side and bites down hard on a towel that’s hanging there, shoving her nose into the fabric to stifle the sound. She keeps rubbing her clit until all the aftershocks have faded, like the waves after a fucking tsunami going back out to sea. Holy shit.
As she spits out the terrycloth and slides slowly down the door she realises that this is Collins’s towel. Because of course it is, nothing about this can be dignified. Shitting cunt.
And then she just lies there, on the floor, in a daze with her hand in her cunt while the shower runs. The tiles are cool against her hot arse where it’s peeked out of her pants.
Okay. So maybe…maybe Eddie does have a little bit of a thing for Collins, after all.
Shitting cunt.