Fate: No Strings Attached

by Erik Schubach

  I got flashes of that monstrous loom. A matronly woman smiling warmly and an old woman saying something as her fingers moved swiftly, separating dozens of strands of light, like living threads. I couldn't hear her voice, but I knew she was saying, “It's all in the weave.”

  This memory made me stumble again and almost fall, but Andreya was there, holding me and asking, “What is it, Sloan? Are you ok?”

  I took a moment to push away the panic. But I really didn't want my pants ruined... the fabric... you just didn't do that to fabric. I shook my head. “Sorry. I think I remembered something.”

  Then I looked at the paramedic as he asked, “Miss?” He pointed at my hip with his scissors.

  I hissed out with venom I shouldn't have directed toward him, “There's no need to destroy my pants,” as I unbuttoned them and pulled the one side down to my upper thigh. I wasn't a prude. I exposed my white lace panties and, I paled, a huge, sickeningly purple and black bruise which covered half my hip.

  I looked at the man as he winced at the look of it, and I apologized, “Sorry, didn't mean to snap.”

  He waved it off and then carefully prodded at the bruise, causing me to suck in a breath in sharply. He tested the firmness of the darker areas and said as he dug around in his kit. “There doesn't appear to be any internal bleeding, though you have heavy ecchymosis. There could be some soft tissue dama...”

  He trailed off while he was starting to hand me a tube of some kind of ointment as Andreya almost violently yanked my pants back up, causing me to hiss and gasp out in pain. She gave me an apologetic look, combined with a look of warning, as she took the tube and told him, “Thanks. We've got it from here.”

  He started to argue as I felt the living ink moving around the bruise. I almost panicked. I hadn't even thought of that when I exposed my skin to them. I was too worried about the fabric of my pants. Had it been moving when... is that why Andreya reacted like that?

  The man was arguing, “She needs to go to the hospital to get checked out, that's a nasty bruise, and there could be some underlying...”

  She cut him off with a forced smile and a terse, “I'll make sure she gets looked at. Thank you for your assistance.”

  The man narrowed his eyes and grudgingly packed up his kit and left, giving her the evil eye.

  I swallowed hard, had she seen my tattoos rearranging themselves? Tattered cloth, I was going to wind up on some dissection table somewhere wasn't I?

  She called over to another officer who was over by the cleaning aisle with another witness, “You done with her?” She pointed over at Enid who was just watching us with a pained look of empathy on her face for me.

  The man nodded, and she said to herself, “Good.” She started pulling me along. My limp was much more pronounced as my leg muscles had had time to tighten and knot up.

  She said, “Enid, get her home. I'll be there soon.”

  My roommate nodded, shaking off the cloud of shock that held her in its embrace since the robbery and the thief's death. “Of course.”

  She took Andreya's place under my arm and then accepted the ointment as the Detective said to her, “Get her in bed to rest. I'll be right there.”

  They shared a nod and Lisbon gave her shoulder a squeeze with one hand. “Good girl.”

  Then she gave me a look I couldn't identify. It almost looked like betrayal.

  She growled at me, “Rest. Get off that leg. See you in a bit.”

  I nodded dumbly, wondering what I did to make her mad. Then I thought of the tattoos again. I had kept that from her... and everyone. I didn't want to be looked at like some sort of freak, or scientific puzzle.

  I looked back at her one last time before we left the shop. She looked like a woman in cleanup mode the way she seemed to be bouncing as she decided what her next course of action would be. I relaxed a bit when she noticed me watching her, and she gave me a tight smile.

  A bit of relief washed over me.

  I looked at my erstwhile companion and said through the pain of walking, “Home, Eeen.” And one of the longest short walks of my new life began.

  Chapter 3 – Full Disclosure

  I dreaded what was to come as I lay in my bed, Enid fussing about me. Every minute we waited for Andreya to join us felt like an hour, long and torturous hours, as I worried about what the Detective had seen. She was sharp and didn't miss much. I was sure if anything out of the ordinary happened while I was being seen to, that her keen eyes would have picked it out.

  I treated the bruise with the ointment according to the instructions, while Enid was making me some hot chocolate. She was going to be a hell of a catch for any guy who opened their eyes to see just how sweet the girl really was.

  Then it came. The dreaded knock at the door. I sat up and winced as I started to swing my legs out of bed. But Eeen called out, “I got it, don't you even try getting up or I'll... I'll do something.”

  I had to grin widely at the threat. She couldn't and wouldn't hurt a fly.

  I laid back in bed as I heard her open the door and that familiar dark whiskey voice which always made me smile asked, “How's our girl?”

  Enid assured her with a mischievous tone, “She'll live.”

  The reply made me squeak as Andreya said, “Not for long after I get my hands on her.”

  I pulled the blankets up over my nose and looked as she stopped in the doorway of my bedroom, looming like a specter, her accusing eyes boring into me. Then she seemed to deflate, and she stepped in to sit on the edge of my bed. “So what all have you not been telling me?”

  Apparently, it was time to squeak again since that's what I did as I again wondered what it was that she had seen.

  She tugged the blankets down from my face and stared at me, her eyes searching. I shrugged, and she exhaled in exasperation and pulled a picture from a file she was holding and tossed it onto my chest. I picked it up and looked at it. It was a picture of my leg from after they found me. The black ink had realistic vines on fire and what looked to be a stylized tree. The word betrayed seemed to weave itself through the chaos.

  She said, “You think I don't remember every excruciating detail of your case? I want to know what's going on.”

  I smiled meekly and offered, “It's a shapely leg.”

  She almost broke into a smile but was able to keep her stern expression.

  I shrugged. “What are you asking? So I know what to say.”

  She exhaled and then half reached for my hip where it lay covered by blankets. “Explain to me why at the crime scene, the tattooed vines looked healthy, climbing up a medical caduceus symbol, and a police badge tangled up in the mix. I know they aren't temporary.”

  I almost sighed in relief. She hadn't seen them rearranging themselves, but she did know they were different than when she was assigned the case.

  I opened my mouth then paused and cocked my head. What was I going to say? “Oh hi, something impossible is happening to my tattoos. They seem to be mimicking the lives of the people around me. Not strange at all, huh? Nothing to see here, just move along.” Knotted threads. But what came out instead of any kind of answer, was that stupid squeak I seem to have been developing.

  She made another exasperated sound. It had the sound of finality like she was done with me as she took the photo back and stuffed it violently into her folder and started to turn to go. My hand shot out and laid on her arm gently. I didn't want her to go. Didn't want her mad at me. “Wait.”

  She turned back and said almost pleadingly, “Give me one reason I should. You're not being straight with me. And I can't do my job unless I know everything.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, heard a car horn in traffic passing by, felt the rearranging of the ink as it crawled under my skin. I whispered as fear started to creep into my being, chilling my blood as the walls all closed in on me, “I don't want to wind up in a dark hole in some government research facility.”

  I glanced at the bedroom door, hearing Enid milling around in the kitchen. Th
en I rolled up my sleeve, my hands shaking, and showed her the ink moving under my skin. It drifted like wisps of smoke as it reformed into a steampunk looking vehicle with a man hanging out the window shaking his fist. I glanced back up at her in trepidation. Half expecting her to draw her weapon or something.

  She just stood there with a look of morbid fascination on her face. Then she stiffened at the sound of Eeen dropping a spoon or something in the kitchen and exclaiming, “Oh poo.” Then she looked back and forth between the door and me and moved up to me quickly.

  I flinched back as she reached forward, but instead of restraining me, she gently rolled the sleeve back down as she kept one eye on the door.

  Then she looked at my arm, now covered, and was silent for a long moment before sitting back on the edge of the bed and asked with all the curiosity in the world, “What sort of tech is it, some sort of subdural reactive ink that responds to a wifi signal or soemthing?”

  I blinked dumbly at her as I digested her words then exhaled a huge sigh of relief as it sank in. Of course, it had to be some sort of technology. I mean, it was impossible otherwise, right? That and the fabric... Was I some sort of scientist before?

  My hand reached to my nightstand and grasped the fabric scraps. I mean this stuff was nearly indestructible from what she said. So it had to be some sort of advanced tech too right? It was all making sense now.

  I almost started laughing in relief. I thought I was some sort of freak, but instead, I was a geek. That was much cooler, right? I echoed her, “Tech?” Then I looked up in her eyes. “Oh stitch and nap, I thought I was losing my mind. Of course, it has to be some sort of technology... but what?”

  I grinned at her. “Maybe I'm a scientist or lab tech or something?”

  A look of comprehension dawning on her face had me looking at her lips as she started to smile. “You thought you were like the women being reported in Cairo, San Fran, and Stalingrad?”

  I started to nod but then froze, my brows furrowing, and I was asking, “Cairo and Stalingrad too?”

  She nodded. “A woman tore through a terrorist cell last week in Egypt, she took them all down in seconds. The authorities found no trace of her, but all the witnesses swear she had a jackal's head like an Anubis.”

  She continued, “Then in Stalingrad, a bus turned over on a bridge in an accident, it was starting to slide over the edge into a ravine when witnesses say a huge woman arrived, who looked to have a shimmering outline of a Kodiak bear around her. She reportedly grabbed the bumper of the bus and pulled it back onto the roadway, before diving over the edge into the ravine.”

  Then she shrugged. “That and the various other reports worldwide, like Seattle and Vancouver here, make it around a hundred sightings. It has to be some sort of military tech being used to help people, right? I mean, there aren't really bird women, mermaids, and other fantastical creatures roaming around.”

  I did chuckle a little at that muttering to myself, riding the high of the relief I felt, “Of course. The simplest answer is usually correct.”

  I looked at her in apology, giving her my best wide doe eyes as I admitted, “I thought I'd be locked away in an asylum or something if I told you my tattoos had started moving. I was worried it was all my imagination. Or if it was true, I was like those others and was something impossible the feds would love to dissect.”

  She kept a stern look for a moment, then caved and grabbed my hand as she smirked. “God damn it. Stop it with the beat puppy-dog eyes. What's done is done. And by your reaction, you have no idea what is going on... still.”

  Then she gave me a warning look. “When did it start? Come on, full disclosure.”

  I shrugged and asked, “Does it matter? It was a day or two after I was released from the hospital.”

  She nodded and explained, “Yes it does matter. Because apparently someone is watching you. Someone is transmitting to your ink for it to show what is happening at the crime scene then just now with the traffic outside.”

  That thought was sobering. And I glanced around frantically. I relaxed as she squeezed my hand. Nobody could see me in here with my curtains drawn. She went on. “Have you noticed anyone strange following you around?”

  I shook my head and grinned a little, pleased with myself as I quipped, “You mean besides you?”

  She rolled her eyes and parried, “Yes, besides me, smart ass.”

  I shook my head. She slipped my sleeve up just a little to expose some of the tattoos as they started to rearrange again. She muttered to herself, “Fascinating.”

  Then she looked at me and smiled. “Well, that gives me a new angle. Between this and that super body armor fabric of yours, I think the tech sector is where I can put out some unofficial feelers since I'm supposed to be off your case.”

  I smiled at her, feeling suddenly bashful. She wasn't giving up on the search for me, even though her superiors have had her move on. I was blushing. I looked away from her lips and stopped myself from biting my own lower lip. I was acutely aware that I was in my bed with her sitting over me.

  Then she said, “Sloan, you said you had a flash of memory at the crime scene?”

  My eyes widened, and I looked back up at her, I had totally forgotten with all the anxiety since the shooting.

  I said distractedly as I recalled the memory. “Yes! Drey... it was more a memory of the nightmare I keep having, but it was clear now. I got flashes of a huge loom, as big as an apartment building. Two women... I... I think they were my mother and grandmother. That's how it felt. They were sorting threads of light as they fed them into the loom The elder one was saying, 'It's all in the weave.'”

  I swayed as I was hit by a flash of memory. I was surrounded by branches and broad green leaves. Someone was calling out to me, “Hannah? Hannah, get out of that tree. I swear you're part mountain goat.” I smiled at the warm feeling. This was my mother.

  I was pulled out of the memory when I saw a glimpse of the woman I was sure was my mother, only it wasn't the same woman from the other memory, who felt just as much my mother.

  I looked back up at Andreya as she prompted, “What is it, Sloan?”

  I shook my head. “Maybe the first woman wasn't my mother. I think I just saw my real mother, but she was calling me Hannah.”

  She nodded, and I could see her analytical mind operating at a million miles an hour behind her eyes. Then she nodded and made a supposition. “The first... the nightmare. Maybe those were co-workers working on the same project as you? That fabric? The loom is probably representative of that work.”

  I found myself nodding with her. That felt right, or at least close. I smiled at her, and she reflexively smiled back. She was so intelligent, and that turned me on as much as her hardened and sexy cop look. Her smile got even wider. “And we have a huge lead now. I think I can get the captain to re-open your case...” Then after a heartbeat, she added, “Hannah.”

  I said without thinking, “Hannah is dead.” I don't even know why I said that. I blinked in surprise at myself.

  She just stared at me long and hard then said, “Your memory will return, you're starting to get flashes like the doctors said could happen.” She said in sad tone, “You'll be able to go back to your old life soon.”

  I hesitated, empathizing with her. She thought I'd go running back to my old life and forget all this mess... and her. Not likely. There are certain things I have gotten used to the past nine months, like her always being close by. There was nothing I wanted more just then than to lean up to her, for a whisper of a kiss. That urge lasted the two and a half heartbeats I counted before I slumped deeper into my pillow. I exhaled slowly, my cheeks and neck burning with a blush that felt so good just then.

  I liked the little tick of a smirk, twitching at the corner of her lips. The woman knew what I was thinking, and I just wanted to sink into the bed and hide. I muttered, “Brat.”

  Then I froze for a moment when she cupped my cheek with one hand, then I melted and closed my eyes to leaned into
the strong warmth of her touch. She exhaled, removed her hand, and said, “We'll find out who you were, who you are.”

  I said coyly, “I'm pretty sure both of us like you.”

  Enid stepped in with some food for me on a tray, and she turned beet red in embarrassment and set the tray quickly on my dresser and started to scurry out with a big smile on her face. “Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt anything.”

  Now it was my turn to blush as I called after her, “Eeen?” While the surly but alluring detective chuckled smugly.

  Chapter 4 – Hannah Graham

  The next day, I was feeling truly happy for the first time since I woke up in the mountains. I'm pretty sure that Drey knew the feelings I had developed for her, and she hadn't gone running for the hills yet.

  Judging by the heated look she had given me before she put Enid in charge to make sure I stayed in bed while she went to do what she does, she was entertaining some of the same thoughts as me. I hugged myself a little insecurely as I wondered why she hadn't acted on it. Was it my bizarre set of circumstances, or the technology kerfuffle I seemed to be embroiled in?

  Enid said absently over our gourmet breakfast of oatmeal and slightly burnt toast; it was my turn to cook today; “She's a professional, assigned to your case.”

  I looked up at her, a little surprised. Was I that transparent?

  She shrugged and kept shoveling in the oatmeal she had poured maple syrup all over to appease her sweet tooth. Huh. I thought about that and knew she was right; I hoped. Our Detective Lisbon was a consummate professional, and any personal involvement with me would go against her nature.

  I smiled at my spoon. But the new leads we had, just might be enough to close my case and find out who I was. Then all bets were off, right? I smiled at that and was about to dwell on the feel of her hand on my cheek when I noted my quite evil roommate was grinning as she made a point of not looking at me as she ate.