Old Town The cat came back the very next day...

[Ella Stern]

Ella Stern enjoyed the history of Easthaven, Massachusetts, and America in general as much as anyone else and as someone who was born in Europe, it was always interesting to explore the various nooks and crannies of a new country. However, sometimes the names of places were a little much, in her opinion.

She was fortunate enough to have found a flat – apartment she reminded herself – in Old Town and on a street which, unlike some of the others in the neighbourhood, was not named after historical figures of note – Washington Street – or past historical status – Colony Court – historical events – Revolution Boulevard – or local trees – Acorn Road. She had managed to find a restored Victorian home in an area with quite an assortment of them, from full gingerbread decorations to more restrained examples of the architecture on State Street. Not too over-the-top as she considered Revolution Boulevard to be.

Her apartment was in one of the more restrained renovations. It consisted of the top floor of the Victorian with all new infrastructure and modern amenities, but with original features like adapted light switches and chandeliers, oak floors and ornate radiators. The last items didn’t work anymore but with a polished piece of live-edge oak shelving attached, they made for wonderful display areas. There was also plenty of natural light, including a big bay window facing the tree-lined street: a mix of fruit trees and something with pink blossoms. Doubtless she would consult Google regarding the flora at some point.

On this particular afternoon, she was seated at her small dining table, only suitable for four, laptop open and papers in relatively neat piles on either side. There was a mug of coffee close enough to reach and far enough away that she was unlikely to inadvertently knock it over her computer or her research. Wearing simple sandals, black jeans and a black tank top with white lettering in a bold graphic font on the front, Ella leaned back in her chair and pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. She had taken a break for a late lunch of an old favourite, Ramen, and it was time to pick up where she had left off: treasure hunting.

It was as good a description as any for her role in a company she jokingly referred to as ‘Hounds-R-Us’. Officially, it was called ‘Sabin Industries’, an almost-anagram of ‘Anubis’. She thought the name was boring and lacked imagination, but she was not on the Board of Directors, not by a long-shot. She was just an errand girl. Soldier of an ancient god.

Thief.

“So, where was I?” she mused aloud, shifting forward in her seat.

Her Passenger, Pharaoh, or ‘Phar’ for short, answered, inside her head.

You were debating if the security system would be difficult to work around without having to shut it down for any length of time.

“That was a rhetorical question,” she murmured, jiggling her mouse to wake up her computer. “A private security system can sometimes be more inventive than one for a public facility.”

There was a pause and Ella guessed he didn’t have anything to add to that statement.

It seems our neighbour’s cat is stuck up a tree, he said, amusement in his voice.

She turned her head to look out the bay window. “Again?” That made twice in the last two weeks that Mrs. Anheuser’s cat, Bitesized, had ventured up where she could not get back down. It was a day after she had moved in and she had managed to meet many of the people on her street in the process. Another neighbor, Mr. McQueen, had managed to retrieve the feline that time, but she had only reached about halfway up the apple tree to the left of Ella’s window. Ella stood and looked out and there was Bitesized, almost at the very top of the same tree.

“Ça alors,” she said and headed for the stairs down to the outside. Mrs. Anheuser would likely be very distraught if the previous scenario was any indication. She didn’t consider that the words ‘SH!T HAPPENS’ in large letters on her tank top might not be appropriate for the current situation.

Trans. - Ça alors – essentially ‘wow’.

[Max Kuryakin]

The cat was almost to the top of the tree; the branches swaying in the breeze as it clung on with a plaintive meow. To the humans around, the wind took the sound and the susurration of the leaves covered it, but Max heard it clear as day. Looking up with his hands braced on his hips, Max felt the sweat down his spine and wondered if the cat wasn't happy, at least it had some shade, stuck up there.

"Get the ladder?" Will asked, leaning up against the fire engine and squinting up at the cat just like Max was. Both of them were without their coats and helmets, their trousers the only part of their uniform identifying them for what they were. The black with yellow reflective strips wasn't ideal in this heat, but they were dealing. It was a milk run, but it was a slow day, so here they were.

With a hum, the werewolf squinted at the tree, seeing there wasn't much of a clear spot for the ladder that'd actually get them anywhere near the cat. Making a choice, Max waved a hand at the healthy and thick branches going all the way up the tree. It'd been well maintained, which wasn't out of the ordinary for Old Town. “Nah, we won't get near the poor thing. Look at that. I'll climb.”

"You sure, man?" Will checked in again, tilting his head and shooting Max a concerned look. Not that he couldn't do it, but Max had a feeling Will was thinking about climbing down with a cat digging its claws into him.

“Yep,” Max settled on, rather than getting into it. He didn't know how the cat'd react–Dulce loved him, but he'd spent a lot of his time sneaking her food before Emily'd finally let her inside. But whether or not the cat liked him, they were drawing a crowd, so it was better to get the job done and let the concerned owner get her cat back.

The boots and pants weren't ideal for climbing, but Max had worn heavier gear for more arduous tasks than climbing a tree when he'd still been in the army, and he'd been a normal human back then. The perks of supernatural strength, even if he still kept up a pretty meticulous training schedule. He could imagine spindly shifters might be stronger than humans, but muscle still had something to do with it.

Ignoring the crowd gathering, and someone lamenting to the despairing owner about Bitesized being obsessed with that tree, Max jumped up to catch the bottom branches, leading into a pull-up that had Will declaring him a show-off. Max ignored him and started pulling his way up through the lower branches, easy with them spaced closer together than they were to the ground.

[Ella Stern]

Ella hurried down the main staircase without taking a shortcut, not that she really had any options. Sliding down the railing was not possible. The home had the double flight of stairs going in opposite directions with a landing between them, typical of the period. Jumping from one flight to the next could lead to broken bones and would make her unable to assist Mrs. Anheuser or her cat, among other things.

She did jump over the bottom three steps, though, because that she could safely manage. Ella stuck the landing like a pro but slowed as she reached the front door, opening it and the screen door with more decorum than she had taken the stairs.

Ahead of her was a fire engine, parked parallel to the sidewalk and a man in the boots and pants associated with the uniform that came with the job. He, like the small crowd gathered around the apple tree, was looking up. Ella easily spotted Mrs. Anheuser and her grandaughter, an arm around each other as they watched the rescue.

Wishing it wasn't quite so hot, she walked down the path to stand with them, tilting her face up and squinting at the sun to see a man climbing the tree with a decent level of agility. This despite wearing the same fire fighter gear as his partner.

Mr. McQueen, who was looking on from his porch steps, said, “Ingrid, Bitesized is obsessed with that damn tree.”

“Ach, do be careful, young man,” Mrs. Ingrid Anheuser called up.

Ella asked, “Why are they not using a ladder?”

The other fire fighter didn't look away from his partner as he said with a grin, “'Cause he's a show-off. Ain't that right?” he added, addressing the climber.

“He is so hot,” the grandaughter murmured and Ella knew she was not discussing the weather.

[Max Kuryakin]

Will had raised his voice high enough that a human could hear it, but Max heard the popcorn gallery loud and clear without them needing to raise their voices. About half-way up the tree now, Max tried to glimpse the clinging feline before he turned his head to look down through the branches and leaves at Will and the bystanders.

“It's the easiest way, Will,” Max retorted, raising his own voice, sounding both amused and exasperated, but knowing he’d get lightly ribbed the rest of the week at work, anyway. For the sake of the bystanders, he bit his lip on any other response, focusing on bracing his boot on another branch and swinging himself up a little higher.

He climbed up at a fast pace, not needing to be careful and trusting his body. Max kept it human fast, though, because for as much as he'd told Juniper that wolves don't climb, he knows he could be up and down in no time, but the cat'd lose its shit and so would everyone else. Still, it didn't take long to get to the higher branches, feeling the top of the tree sway with his weight.

The cat was looking at him suspiciously, and Max hadn't quite reached it, but he didn't want the rascal to run before he could grab it. “Anything I should know about this little troublemaker before I try grabbing him?” Max called out to those below, even as he reached out a slow hand and clicked his tongue to catch Bitesized's attention.

[Ella Stern]

Upon hearing the man's question, Mrs. Anheuser said, “She likes people...”

“I like people, too,” the grandaughter said, her eyes holding that dreamy quality of a thirteen year old girl discovering a new crush. Ella remembered that time in her life very well, with the accompanying embarrassment that often followed.

“She has not been declawed,” Ella offered with a smile, “Though I suppose that is obvious, or she would not be up a tree, but she is fast and they are very sharp.”

“Yeah, totally sharp,” the grandaughter murmured to herself.

“Can I drive your truck?” a hopeful boy of around nine asked the fire fighter on the ground.

The man shook his head. “You need a licence.”

“My dog has a licence,” the boy stated proudly.

Mr. McQueen called up, “You're gonna be a pin cushion, son.”

Bitesized looked down at the climber and mewed piteously.

[Max Kuryakin]

Strike (Sound/Song) Complete Success

Max chuckled at the back and forth from the people on the ground, calling down an amused, “Alright,” before peering at the cat with a quirked eyebrow. Bitesized looked timid, but she wasn't hissing, so he didn't think she'd try to swipe at him and make the pincushion situation any worse than it had to be. Wanting to make it easier for the both of them, he spoke in low soothing tones as he climbed that last bit of height needed to get within grabbing distance.

Something seemed to appeal to the cat, bright slitted eyes following his movements with less timidity, and Max felt that innate feeling of what passed for his own magic hooking into his words as he coaxed the kitten. Magic or no, the cat was still careful even if she didn't swipe at his hand when he brought it up next to her. It took a bit more convincing, more magic laden words to soothe her, before she switched her grip on the branch onto a grip on his hand, and Max shifted to lift her one-handed from the branch, holding her scooped up by the ribcage before he pulled her close to his chest. Her claws were digging into his skin, but the pain was temporary so he didn't react beyond a wince.

“There we go, sweetheart,” Max soothed, feeling the cat squirming and he lifted her to rest over his shoulder, one hand holding her steady as he started on his descent. This time, he went slower, one handed and with care to his new passenger. She squirmed, front paws digging their claws into his shoulder and back paws occasionally scrabbling at his chest, but he just stopped the climb when it felt precarious, rumbling out the sound that always got Dulce purring.

Bitesized wasn't ready to purr, but she settled down so Max could keep the slow descent going.

[Ella Stern]

The people below watched with variations of appreciation and awe as Bitesized decided she liked the man who had come to rescue her. Ella couldn't tell if he was speaking to her or not, but the feline shifted from the branch to his hand, apparently comfortable. Regardless of the claws she was likely applying, man and cat slowly and carefully began their descent.

Mrs. Anheuser's lips quivered. “Oh, he has her, he has her!”

Ella placed an arm across her neighbour's shoulders while there was a smattering of applause and a few whistles, including the other fire fighter, who had the sharpest whistle of all.

“That's my boy,” he crowed and several people laughed. The relief was palpable and Ella noticed even Mr. McQueen, who was sympathetic but not usually emotional, seemed to have something in his eyes that needed attention from a quick wipe of his hand. Though she had not been in the neighbourhood very long, the importance of Bitesized to Mrs. Anheuser was clear.

“I love happy endings,” the granddaughter said and gave her grandmother a hug.

Cats are sacred creatures to some, Phar said quietly.

I know.

[Max Kuryakin]

Max rolled his eyes at Will's exclamation, thinking that the guy wasn't all that much older than he was despite Will recruiting him into a whole new career path. But rather than bantering, Max kept climbing steadily down, before he swung himself down on the last branch to hang, one hand clinging to the lowest branch, before he let go to land as softly as he could. It still jostled Bitesized, and she let out a plaintive meow as she clawed her way up his chest to dig them into his shoulder, perched there as he winced.

Holding a hand up to steady her, Max stepped out from under the tree's shadow to the small crowd that'd grown since he'd climbed up the tree. “Here you go, ma'am,” Max offered, reaching to pull the cat off his shoulder, feeling her claws catching on the material of his t-shirt, before he offered the cat to the woman. “Little lady's no worse for wear, I think.”

To prove him right, the cat eeled out of his hands and into the woman's, cosying up against her owner and beginning to purr. Will smacked Max on the back with a grin and turned back to the fire engine to pack up what little they'd brought out while they were planning how to get the cat, leaving Max standing with the owner and the little crowd.

[Ella Stern]

Mrs. Anheuser smiled through her tears, managing to thank the fire fighter despite finding it difficult to speak. She cuddled Bitesized, who nuzzled her back and purred like a little motor.

“That was amazing,” the granddaughter said reverently, gazing up at her latest hero.

Ella sighed, wondering if the girl was going to ask for an autograph or a photo with him so she could post it on her Instagram. She turned her attention to the man with a smile, saying, “You are very good with animals… -mals…” Her voice stuttered to a halt, as did her mind and her heart, as she realized the rescuer of Bitesized and the man Mrs. Anheuser’s granddaughter was currently enamored of was someone she knew. ‘Hello, haven’t we met in a previous life?’ sounded like the bad pick-up line it was, but in this case, it was their reality. Max Kuryakin, a Green Beret she’d met in North Africa during her time in the French Army.

The time where she was still alive.

Shit, shit, shit! What is he doing here, in Massachusetts, of all places –

You know him? her Passenger asked sharply.

No, Phar, I am panicking because I have a roast in the oven!

Puzzlement. You do not have a –

Genuinely alarmed, Ella’s thoughts were scrambling to decide the best course of action. Should she coolly and calmly pretend she didn’t recognize him? Tell him he was mistaken if he recognized her? Run like hell? Instead of any of the potential options, she found she was rooted to the spot, eyes wide, and mouth moving like a desperate fish out of water. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything to her or, if he did, he wouldn’t connect her with someone he had only known for a fleeting period years ago, the first being a rescue mission and the remaining times when on leave. He must have met lots of people…

“Ma-Max?”

So much for hiding.

Is the correct word for this response ‘smooth’? Phar inquired dryly.

Shut up.

[Max Kuryakin]

Max's response to the grateful bystanders was an 'aw shucks' shrug of his shoulders and a smooth, “All in a day's work,” as he grinned down at the teenager. He was about to excuse himself and join Will by the fire engine, but then he heard his name and looked to the other woman who'd been there. He'd seen her out of the corner of his eye, she'd been saying something but interrupted herself, the focus on the cat and her owner taking up all his attention. Until now.

Now, he looked at the woman fully, eyes open and curious, knowing the woman knew him. It took a moment, reading the shock in her expression, and he could immediately tell he knew her–her face was familiar pretty much immediately, even without her saying his name–but from where?

The realisation shivered down his spine in an unwelcome wave of memories. Her face was one he associated with positive memories, beyond their first meeting. He knew what she looked like naked, fresh out of the shower or fresh from messing up the sheets, but he also knew she was supposed to be fucking dead. Unless... did she have a twin? Was that the explanation here?

“Ella?” Max returned, trying to keep his voice level, trying not to pass a quick judgement on what it looked like this was. Was he looking at a deserter, an uncanny family resemblance who somehow knew him, or had he just not caught the retraction of her KIA status? Their mutual friends had known to tell him she was dead, so why not that she was alive?

Even if he was keeping the judgement off his face, his brows were furrowed. He looked confused, even while he was holding back any anger. That would wait until he got some kind of explanation, but that wouldn’t likely to come in front of Bitesized and her entourage.

[Ella Stern]

Isabella Stern was officially dead. Her lease, driver’s license, passport and the name on the mailbox just inside the front door of the Victorian declared her new surname. Hiding in plain sight, doubting she would encounter anyone who had known her before she was killed, especially on this side of the Atlantic. She had not even dyed her hair or done anything else people in spy movies did to change their appearance. Had it been foolish of her not to bother? Something for her to think about later.

Shit, Shit, Shit –

She suspected Max wouldn’t call her out in front of his co-worker or her neighbours, nor did he likely have time to ‘visit’ since he was currently on the job.

His expression looked to be warring between denial and detonation.

Thinking quickly, Ella gave him a tentative smile and said, “Max Kuryakin? Bien sûr! Ella Rousseau! We met in Paris a few years ago, oui?”

She could only hope he would accept this overture and go along with the impromptu story. That he would leave it at that was highly unlikely. Not if he was still the man she remembered. Would he have even noticed her if she'd kept her mouth shut?

Perhaps you should have tried that first, Phar said flatly.

Stay out of this.

Trans. Bien sûr! – Of course!

[Max Kuryakin]

Max stepped away from the huddle of people around the cat, a few starting to walk off now that the main event was over. Some were curious about someone in the neighbourhood knowing the fireman, but that was just normal city stuff. The chance encounter wouldn't raise any eyebrows, unless they'd known Ella Stern was supposed to be a corpse buried six feet under.

Ella spoke and nothing she said made Max feel any better about what kind of explanation was behind her being here. A story to benefit the people around and an alternate name–that, at least, told him he might actually get an explanation in the future. Fake name or not, he knew where she lived, and if she'd planned to uproot her fake life in the face of an old friend, she wouldn't even have said anything. She'd have crept away while the cat distracted Max.

“Yeah, Paris. I remember. It's good to see you,” Max settled on, hiding his unease with a plastered on smile that'd look genuine enough to the people around them. He affected a laugh, bracing his hands on his hips. “It's been a long time, s'like you fell off the face of the earth.”

Pointed enough to get Max's point across. If this wasn't desertion, but some paperwork slip-up and entirely innocent, she'd still left people who would've cared to know hanging in limbo, thinking she was dead.

Max glanced at his watch, lifting his right wrist and angling it to get a look, knowing he was approaching the end of his shift, but not sure how willing Will was to get the fire engine back to the station and do the paperwork on his own. Maybe if Max offered a favour. If he could, he'd much rather get an explanation from Ella sooner rather than later.

[Ella Stern]

When Max made some small but intentional space between himself and the remaining neighbours, it was to move closer to her. He sounded relaxed, even friendly when he replied to her fiction. Since she had opened her mouth and had his attention, she knew, as Ricky said to Lucy, that she would have some explaining to do. If she could convey a few points now, that would possibly relieve some of the background tension until they could speak in private.

“It is good to see you, too,” she said quite honestly. Having left her friends and family in the dark about her pseudo-living status, it had been a lonely few years. Max gave her an opening she could not misunderstand with a comment about disappearing. He was looking at his watch when she added quietly, aware some people were still close enough to overhear, “I am... so sorry. It might seem that way, but communication has been almost impossible... and I have just been... dead on my feet.”

Would that be at all helpful as a clue or just confuse things further? Ella didn't know, but she was not going to pack up and ship out. She had unintentionally drawn attention to herself and he deserved an explanation. Whether or not he would believe her was another matter.

[Max Kuryakin]

Max shot her a sharp look at her words, but he couldn't hope to pick up any meaning from them beyond the idea that she hadn't thought she'd manage. But she was standing out in the open on an Easthaven street wearing a loud 'SHIT HAPPENS' shirt and called his name, so Max wasn't all that convinced she was on some deep cover thing. He'd never been a spook, and he'd done different cloak and dagger shit from anything James Bond got up to, so maybe he didn't have the proper frame of reference to know.

That was crux here, why he was equally confused and angry, coloured with uncertainty because he didn’t know. Maybe it was as innocent as it could be. Maybe it was as bad as it looked, but Max had learnt long ago that snap judgements rarely got him anything other than a headache. Even if he speculated until the cows came home, he'd only know for sure if she told him, and he wanted that to happen sooner rather than later.

Leaving her bordering on cryptic words alone, Max said instead, “You gonna run off if I go check with my partner if he'll let me get outta work early?” Cocking his head, he gave her a serious look, but made his tone sound humorous enough that any eavesdroppers would just think it was some inside joke or something. He couldn’t help the sardonic upward twist to the corner of his mouth. “'Cause I'd rather get the full story sooner rather than later.”

[Ella Stern]

Ella was not good at 'cryptic'. At least, not when trying to think how to describe her current situation to someone who actually knew her, especially in public. She sighed. Of course, he didn't know her, not this iteration of Isabella Stern. There were times when even she barely understood what she had become.

She met his serious look with one of her own and tried to match his tone.

“I am not going anywhere,” she replied, shaking her head to emphasize her words. “Come over whenever you can, Max, we can order pizza.” A small smile quirked the corners of her lips as she added, “I signed a lease for one year. As long as you stop by before then...”

[Max Kuryakin]

Max jerked his head in a nod, finding he couldn’t bring any levity into the situation. “Alright,” he said with a sigh, turning his head to scan the crowd and spotting Will waving to catch his attention. Better now than later, and Will wouldn't object to Max owing him a favour. “Give me five minutes, I'll be back.”

With a last nod to Ella, Max stepped away and circled the group cooing over the cat. The small crowd had dispersed, now that the show was over, leaving Will and Max to talk in the relative privacy by the fire engine's cab.

“Got a little problem,” Max started to say, Will already arching an eyebrow at the look on his face. Max kept the explanation brief, enough of the juicy gossip to make sure Will agreed to let him bail out of driving the engine back to the station and wrap things up for their shift, but not enough to prompt any awkward questions that Max didn't know the answer to.

With permission granted and a favour owed, Max yanked his duffel out of the footwell and slung it over his shoulder, shutting the door and giving Will a wave as the fire engine drove off. As promised, it hadn't taken many minutes at all, and Max was trudging across the road and back to the tree that'd started it all. That a cat up a tree ended up leading to him finding out an old friend wasn't dead was borderline comedic if he hadn't been so worked up about the details.

“Alright?” he murmured to his thought-dead friend, tipping his head in a silent invitation for her to lead the way.

[Ella Stern]

One of the few things Ella felt she could do was try a little levity, given the serious nature of her circumstances and the awkward conversation they were likely to have shortly. Everyone had different reactions when it came to dealing with unforeseen circumstances. She was in the thick of it and still had moments of uncertainty and terror. She simply nodded when he asked for a few minutes and watched as he crossed to his co-worker.

What will you tell him? Phar asked.

I don't know yet. We will see how he reacts to the basics.

What are 'the basics'?

The other fire fighter had an eyebrow raised and looked at her briefly over Max's shoulder. She looked back, keeping her face neutral. It dawned on her then what she was wearing and she crossed her arms over her chest in a reflex to hide the words.

Ella sighed. I don't know, Phar. I am flying by the seat of my pants.

“Alright,” she replied to Max. He looked as handsome as always, with a few more lines in the corners of his eyes and around his mouth which suggested he smiled a lot. That was good, but he also seemed tired and now, of course, understandably, wary as well. “This way.”

Ella turned and climbed the steps to the porch, opened the screen door and stepped inside to the cooler front hall. She would check both doors once he was through to ensure they were secure.

No one flies by their...pants...

Not now, Phar.

[Max Kuryakin]

Ella seemed to give him a close look before she spoke, the kind that made Max feel like she was just taking stock of the ways he was different from before. The feeling didn't get his hackles up, following her without a word, even if he was even more sensitive to eyes sizing him up than he'd ever been as a plain human. There was always nuance in the ways people looked at him, and he'd made an art out of figuring out what looks he was getting.

Following her onto the porch and inside, he paused just inside the doorway to let her secure the front doors, recognising it as something he did himself. Although, with the military three years behind him, he'd turned it into a subtle, instinctive check rather than the compulsion it'd been before. With her attention on the doors, Max took his own stock of her. She was older, of course, but he couldn’t say she was different in any obvious way. Maybe a difference in the line of her shoulders, the way she planted her feet. That was the bigger difference, but that might be the lack of any military accoutrement. No uniforms or body armour or heavy packs. Distance from the life lived before, and part avoiding being associated with it at all. He wondered if was his imagination that made it seem like she was weighted down a little more than she'd been before, whether desertion had taken its toll in a real way or if Max was projecting his own opinion of it on her.

He distracted himself from thinking about it by prying gently into her comings and goings. “You said you signed a year's lease? How long have you been in town?”

Renting rather than staying at an airbnb or a hostel implied she had planned to stick around for a while, to live rather than be a passing presence in the city, but he wondered what'd made her pick Easthaven. It had to be easier to disappear in a place like Boston or New York. Maybe Boston had got skipped because that was his home turf, or maybe not. A few guys had been from Queens and Brooklyn, if he thought about it, and they’d known her. He didn’t think Easthaven had been anything other than a dot and a name on a map for the people he knew had known her.

[Ella Stern]

She had no illusions about her circumstances or how the lives of others had moved on without her. Of course Max had changed, though it seemed negligible at first glance. Just the usual things that show with age. Would he notice anything different about her, other than the visibly obvious? She had not communicated with anyone who had met her before her death with which to draw a comparison.

Until now. Max was probably doing the same with her, as she would in his place. What did he see? She shouldn't care, but she did, and being a deserter was probably one of the things he would be considering. Again, if she were in his shoes, it would be an obvious possibility. That particular point bothered her on a level where, again, she shouldn't care, but did.

Turning to him, Ella replied, “I have been here two weeks now.” She indicated the stairs with a small gesture of her hand and started upward, one hand on the railing as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Though I have been in Easthaven about a month or so?” She wasn't intentionally being vague, so much as not thinking it very important to narrow down the date and time. She doubted he needed exact information regarding her arrival, as there were more important things he would probably be asking her once they reached her apartment.

[Max Kuryakin]

A month wasn't all that long, in the grand scheme of things, but she looked as settled as a new arrival could be. Relaxed, at least, if her shirt was any sign. Max made an indistinct noise of interest as he followed her up the stairs, his work boots heavy on each step as he followed her lighter footfalls.

“Pretty new in town then, huh,” Max said, more idle conversation, but still lightly fishing for more insight. “What made you move?”

Other than being in hiding or on the run, or whatever myriad of reasons she might have to find herself in a town that had barely existed for Max before he’d had to find university space outside of Boston.

[Ella Stern]

“Oui, new as a shiny penny,” she replied, one of her sayings that had carried forward to her new life, as it were. She reached the landing turned and climbed the second set of stairs. “I was sent here,” she said to the top of the stairs, figuring he would hear her thanks to the natural acoustics of the stairwell.

Ella opened the door to her apartment and left it open so Max could follow at his own pace. She crossed to where she has left her laptop on the table and casually lowered the screen until it pressed shut with a quiet click. She was not sure how much or what information exactly she would be revealing, but it would come from her, not from anything that might be visible on her computer.

“Coffee or something cooler? I have lemonade.”

She was trying to keep the mood light and relaxed. It was not easy, given that her mind was racing to determine how to best handle the situation. Had someone at Sabin Industries known she would meet a friend from her past here? Is that one of the reasons she was the soldier to be sent to Easthaven?

Anything is possible, Phar observed. Though I do not know why they would bother.

Not helping.

[Max Kuryakin]

Sent here, whatever that meant. “Well that's not fucking ominous,” Max couldn't help but mutter, sarcasm curling around the soft words he spoke under his breath.

Was this DGSE bullshit? Max had brushed up against them through some army work when they'd been dipping their fingers in paramilitary groups in Northern Africa, but he hadn't gone away feeling too good about it. This wouldn't be paramilitary, not on American soil, but if she was DGSE, Max wondered if he had a duty to report her or if this was one of those open secrets. Countries spying on each other and everyone knew but pretended not to. It was above his paygrade, whatever it was, but he'd have to check what responsibilities he might have here, if she was DGSE.

She seemed too busy dealing with her computer to comment on Max's quiet remark as they entered her apartment, if she'd even heard it. He followed her inside, shutting the door behind him and placing his bag down by the entranceway. He only roamed to the end of the hallway as it opened up into the larger room with the table and her computer. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms as she offered him a drink.

“Yeah, thanks, I'll take some lemonade,” he said, eyes following her and picking up on the forced lightness. He wanted to ask who sent you, but he left it unspoken for now.

[Ella Stern]

If Ella had known he was thinking she might be with the DGSE, she would have initially been surprised, because she had not considered that as a potential option. France's foreign intelligence agency could, indeed, be conducting paramilitary and counterintelligence operations in the United States and that would be an interesting angle. It was not, however, her truth.

Ella had heard his comment and decided to pretend that it had escaped her notice. Things were going to difficult enough without responding to his sarcasm. If she recalled correctly, Max was a master at sarcasm.

“Lemonade it is,” she said with a brief nod and crossed to her small kitchen and the 'fridge. Pulling out a glass pitcher, brimming with the tart beverage, she set it on the counter, closed the 'fridge door and opened a high cupboard to pull down two tall glasses. As she did, she added, “You must be hot in your gear. Though it is cooler indoors, I recommend you make yourself with comfort.” That didn't quite sound correct, but she did not bother to analyze it.

[Max Kuryakin]

His gear wasn't that bad and the only alternative as far as cooling down properly was stripping down to his skivvies, and that seemed inadvisable right now. So he settled for a quiet, “I'm good,” even as he uncrossed his arms and stepped properly into the apartment. He went for the table, on the other side of it from the closed computer, and pulled out a chair to settle down, bracing an elbow on the table as he watched her in the kitchen.

“So, who sent you?” Max pried, leaning back in the chair and spreading his knees, taking up more space to appear more relaxed even if he still felt alert and a little on-edge about finding someone he thought was dead. He kept telling himself to not jump to any conclusions, wait for what she’d say, but the theories flew around in his head, anyway.

[Ella Stern]

Of course he was 'good'. Comfort was likely far from his mind, though she did realize just then that he probably did not have any clothes to change into with him. Well, she couldn't do anything about that.

Ella heard him move and pull out a chair. Glancing over her shoulder, she noted he was sitting at her table, sprawled. It was the best word to describe his current position. It made her smile a little, though she turned back to the task of putting ice in the glasses, so he probably missed her expression.

Then the 'interrogation' began in earnest.

“My employer,” she replied, but did not plan on leaving it at that. “I work for Sabin Industries as a procurer of ancient artifacts. One of their missions is to return items acquired by museums and private collectors around the world to Egypt, where they belong.”

Ella pull the ice cube tray back in the freezer, poured the lemonade, put the pitcher away. She picked up a glass in each hand and crossed to the table, putting the beverages down before sitting across from him.

She did not avoid his eyes. “It is complicated, Max. Ella Rousseau is the name I use now. Isabella Stern is... no longer with us.” She sighed, aware she probably was not doing a very good job explaining her status. She cleared her throat. “I know this will sound crazy, but... I died, Max. Fatal bullet wounds during that last recon in a small village... so far away now.”

[Max Kuryakin]

Strike (Preternatural senses) Exceptional success
Strike (Detect magic) Complete success

Sabin Industries wasn't a familiar name, but that wasn't Max's area, anyway. He could use google, so he'd just look it up later. She filled in some details, ruling out the DGSE and any western counter intelligence agencies, considering they didn’t care about repatriating stolen Egyptian relics.

So it was desertion, then, he concluded with a sinking feeling in his gut. Max's regard for her took a nosedive with his worst assumption confirmed, shifting in his seat and smoothing over his expression so he wouldn't give it away, face set in a crookedly curious twist of his mouth. Leaving the military wasn't difficult, even when they didn't force you to, so whatever excuse she might've had wouldn't shift Max's thoughts much.

He said nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself. They weren't relevant to the question he'd asked, so he instead watched her finish filling up the glasses and carry over the lemonade. When she placed his down in front of him, he curled a hand around the cool glass, condensation already gathering. With a soft thanks, he lifted it for a sip, the cool and tart lemonade quenching his thirst from climbing the tree.

Ella spoke again, adding a little more insight that had his eyebrows arching upwards, but not really enough to shift Max's set opinion. He mulled over the information though, flared his nostrils subtly as he drew in the scents around the room. She didn't smell of anything other than human, to him, and while there was a slight smell of magic in the air, Max had long learnt that the simple presence of magic wasn't always evidence of anything at all.

“You don't look all that dead,” Max countered, falsely cavalier. The bitter twist of his mouth probably betrayed the attitude he was feigning.

Part of his inability to summon much sympathy was because of the way she'd gone about it, if she was being truthful about being wounded–she could insist she died until the cows came home, but absent of her being actually dead, Max would count it as wounded. Regardless, there were better ways of handling it than going AWOL. She'd left everyone mourning her and hadn't looked back. By the way she’d near enough guiltily squirmed when he’d first seen her, she fucking knew it too.

[Ella Stern]

Oh, she recognized that tone. He didn't believe her, but of course, why would he? She didn't look dead. Not that they would be visible, but there were no apparent healed wounds anywhere on her body. Anubis had been very thorough, so as to provide a body that looked completely normal and would not cause anyone to question whether or not she was human.

Mostly.

Ella's smile faded. “I do not feel very dead, most days, but I assure you, I did die, and since you might be thinking I deserted, I tell you I did not.” She sighed again. “I do not wish to sandblast the soup cracker, but... do not be alarmed... if you want to truly understand how complicated this is...?”

She didn't wait for him to respond to that open-ended statement. Instead, she continued to meet his gaze. Phar? Please make yourself known. Slowly.

Her eyes shifted in a blink, from her natural colour to all black, no whites. Pharaoh was looking out now. He curled her lips into a smile that was neither cruel nor friendly. The tenor of magic in the room had increased a little.

“I have heard a lot about you,” Pharaoh said, the accent, tone and quality of Ella's voice no longer present. This was a bit deeper and could potentially illicit feelings of ancient times and hot sand, if one was prone to noticing the subtleties of such things.

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder (Attunement) Exceptional success
Aspect (Magic sense)
Strike (Detect magic) Complete success

Whether or not she was convinced she'd died, it did not convince Max about any sort of temporary death freeing her of any obligation to people and institutions she'd known before. So maybe she had died, a clinical brain death maybe, but here she was, pretending to be someone else. There was no convenient amnesia to justify why she thought she hadn't dropped the ball like a coward.

Max's razor sharp focus was on her, as relaxed as he outwardly seemed, and he was evaluating her from across the table. He quirked an eyebrow at the turn of phrase that he had to assume was some directly translated idiom from French–he knew the language, but not enough of it to have any mastery of idioms–but he caught the gist of it. What came next was unexpected, but he caught the warning in the air as that familiar surge of active magic sent shivers down his spine and brought his hackles up.

It was a habit to clench down on the instinctive response to the sudden rush of magic, muscles clenching against the urge to lash out with all the power hidden by a strong but deceptively human frame. To let fingers turn to claws and make ribbons of the magical threat looming. The only thing that betrayed the internal fight with himself was how he shifted in the seat, losing the relaxed pose and turning to look at the pitch-black eyes of the woman across the table. The glass of lemonade creaked as his grip tightened, but the split second of internal war was over before it cracked and Max deliberately slackened his hand, letting his fingertip slide over the condensation and the chill remind him of where he was.

Whatever was behind Ella's eyes spoke, and Max took a moment to scent and feel the magic that was rolling off of her now, where before it had just floated around–there, but dormant. He made it a habit to catalogue the different magics he ran across, and this was new. Unique to Ella's situation or this type of magic, but Max didn't have enough information to know. It shimmered in the air like a mirage over desert sands, the smell of it arid and earthy. The voice itself wasn't close to Ella's, deeper but not quite male, like a modulated version of her own.

“I've heard nothing about you,” Max returned, tone unfriendly if not outright hostile. He was glaring at the black-eyed thing apparently piggybacking in a human, dredging his mind for anything he could remember about situations like this. Possession was the only thing he could think of, but that was all ghost stories and religious stuff, nothing that anyone else had said to make it a real thing.

[Ella Stern]

Pharaoh Cinder True Sight, Intent - Failure.

Pharaoh raised one of Ella's eyebrows. The human across from them was very focused and did not flinch when the woman's eyes shifted, but he did react. It was a subtle tension - the glass was briefly in danger. Was he aware of the magic as it ebbed and flowed around them? Pharaoh could not tell. How interesting.

Phar -

Do not worry, Ella. I am, as you would say, 'on it'.

“Of course you have not heard of me,” he said, the smile growing as Ella's posture became apparently more relaxed, though that was not the case. It would do well to be prepared; this human was an unknown, after all. “There is no need for anger, Max Kuryakin. I am here by agreement and that agreement included Ella leaving her previous life and telling no one she was not completely dead.”

[Max Kuryakin]

Max didn't have much reason to like the piggybacking parasite, but when it kept speaking, giving some insight into why Ella was in this situation, any willingness to figure out if the thing was friendly evaporated. By agreement under duress, Max had to imagine, which refocused Max's disdain onto the parasite rather than Ella herself.

“Plenty need for anger,” Max retorted, still glaring down the black-eyed creature, whatever it looked like beyond Ella's own body. He sat up, bracing both elbows on the tabletop as he more fully faced the thing. “Especially when you just admitted to coercing a friend of mine. She died, yeah? So you're the little parasite that took advantage.”

It was as near a snarl that human vocal cords could manage, and Max was careful not to bring the wolf into this. He didn't want a parasite knowing, and he had a feeling anything Ella knew, that thing would know too.

[Ella Stern]

Pharaoh sighed.

“Your concern seems genuine, but know that she was not coerced. She was killed in the line of duty, a warrior who was recognized for her value. She was offered a position within the ranks and she accepted. Thus, she was revived, but one of the conditions was to sever all ties to her prior existence.”

Ella's head tilted a bit to the left and continued in a conversational tone with no apparent aggression toward the man. “Your friend would be rotting in the sand if she had not received this offer. Would you so blithely condemn her to a true death?”

Her body leaned closer, but remained on her side of the table, not invading Max's personal space.

“If you had been consulted, which is an unlikely scenario, would you have told her to decline?”

[Max Kuryakin]

The werewolf cocked his head to the side, glaring still, but expression shifting into more of a derisive smirk than a frown. A lot of pretty words, fluffing her up while avoiding the nastier side of what the parasite had done. Some Faustian bargain for staying alive. Max could see the appeal if someone was desperate and afraid enough of death. Ella's price had been her life, in the way it mattered to the people who knew her, but this would-be devil wouldn’t convince Max it was all that honourable on their side.

“You're barking up the wrong tree, trying to change my mind. If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it's a fuckin' duck.” Max declared, leaning back in his seat with that smirk in place, sliding his elbows off the table and tapping his index and middle finger against the wood. “You've made her a corpse to her family and friends, never mind the rest. Now fuck off, wouldja? You're not the one I want to talk to.”

[Ella Stern]

Pharaoh slowly shook her head. His parting words were: “I am not a duck.”

Ella blinked and her eyes returned to their brown, human form. Her upper body slumped a little and her head hung down, shoulders slightly hunched. She took a deep breath and let it out again. There were degrees of cost to her when it came to having Pharaoh speak directly, not unlike the price she paid when she implemented one of her gifts. This was a minor drain, by comparison.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “Like I said... complicated.” She lifted her head, wrapped her left hand around her glass of lemonade and took a long drink.

[Max Kuryakin]

Aspect

Max didn't much care that the parasite hadn't understood the English idiom, so he kept his mouth shut as the black pools of Ella's eyes receded and–he had to guess–she returned to the front seat. He knew it was happening because that shiver of magic intensified as her eyes went from black to her normal brown, including the white of her eyes rather than the eerie pitch black.

Even as she returned to herself, Max couldn't bring himself to say anything just yet, lips pursed as he studied her in the immediate aftermath. She looked like it'd worn her out, but not too much, but her voice was quiet in the room when she broke the silence herself. Complicated was a word for it, and while it wasn't the same as Max's own complications, he could see enough parallels to sort of get it, even if he'd never had the choice. If he hadn't caught the infection, Max knew he'd either be dead or wishing he was, at least until the shrinks screwed his head back together again.

“Do you regret it? Your Faustian bargain,” Max asked, instead of prying more into the complicated issue of playing host to some provenance unknown parasite. His question was a stark contrast to his tone when he'd been speaking to her little passenger, softer, lacking in anger, but it had little emotion at all behind it. His expression had smoothed from the sharp smirk into something a little more melancholy, but still guarded.

She had to regret, to some degree, or else she'd have let Max turn away and go back to the fire engine without catching his attention at all. She'd have let him keep living in ignorance. That might've been preferable to knowing.

[Ella Stern]

Ella laughed softly and carefully placed her glass on the table before looking at Max through her lashes, head still down.

“'Faustian bargain'. A good way to put it, Max.” Ella paused, swallowed. “Yes, I do. Regret it. At least once a day, mostly in the evenings, when I have nothing to occupy my mind and Phar is... not in the mood to converse.”

Her hand released the hold on the glass as she leaned back in her chair and faced him properly, her smile fading. It was difficult to talk about, but then, there had been no one with whom she could share her situation, until now. Until she opened her mouth when she should probably have remained silent. Had that been a mistake, a slip of her guard that had made her say Max's name? Or had she decided, on some level, that her chances of connecting with anyone from her previous life were so slim as to not exist, and ignoring this gift would be foolish?

“I miss them. Very much. My... family, my brother...” She had been very close to her brother. Now she would never - “My friends... even handsome rogues like yourself, Max.” There was the ghost of a smile then, briefly, before it disappeared. She swallowed again and looked to her right, hoping to compose herself before she continued. It mostly worked. “I thought I was losing my mind. It was so... strange and confusing and surreal... I fought the idea, all I would lose, though, being dead, I had already lost... everything... everything...”

Ella met his gaze again. Her eyes were bright, but no tears had fallen.“And then, I wake up in the morning and watch the sun rise, hear the birds and tiny creatures going about their business. I see... children go by on their way to school or couples pushing a pram or... life, just, life, in general, and I wonder that I ever hesitated to say 'yes'. I would miss...” She waved one hand toward the big, bay window. “All this... wonder and... the rain. I always loved the rain and...”

A tear fell then. “Please, please do not hate me, Max, for wanting to live... even a life like this is...” Ella quickly wiped at her cheek with the palm of her hand. “I was dead. I was done! I just...”

Another tear fell, then another. Ella lifted both hands to press the palms against her eyes and kept them there. There was a flip-flip sound as two sandals dropped to the floor. Her knees pulled up and her heels rested on the seat on the chair as she curled in on herself and started to tremble.

What must he think of her? Why had she said anything? Now he would remember this mess she had become and not the woman she had been, once upon a time.

[Max Kuryakin]

Was regret part and parcel of Faustian bargains, or did it depend on the bargainer? Max didn't know too much about it, beyond the broad strokes. A part of him ached that Ella regretted the choice, because if you were to give up something, surely the consolation was that you wouldn't regret it? But that wasn't how these sorts of things worked. When she admitted she missed everyone, Max managing a crooked smile when she called him a rogue, but he couldn't muster up more than that when the topic was depressing.

The flood of words coming from her made Max wonder if he was the first person she'd ever admitted all this to, at least all in one go. The stiff little parasite hadn't seemed like a sympathetic ear, but then Max hadn’t been interested in giving it a chance. It had been too sure whatever was going on was the right, honourable thing, so Max automatically thought it was full of shit. But parasite aside, Max was a bit of a bleeding heart, under the right circumstances, and Ella's plea for him not to hate her made said heart ache. And she was crying. He could smell the salt in the air.

As she covered her face and Max heard the flop of her shoes on the floor, he rose from his seat, circling the table and kneeling next to her chair. “Hey, hey,” he soothed, tucking an arm behind her back on the chair and settling a hand over the top of her bare foot, squeezing. “I don't hate you, okay? I hate the guy who made you choose between a lonely life and death. I’m just…not happy about the situation you're in.”

[Ella Stern]

Her days consisted of the wide swing of a pendulum, from one extreme emotion to another. The intensity varied depending on how well the day itself had progressed. Her first waking moments frequently included tears of joy, where her last thoughts at night tended to dwell on that hollow place where there was a tomb and sand and not much else. Tears of loss and terror came then. Not always, but often enough that she considered herself fortunate to maintain her sanity.

Maybe losing her mind would happen further along this dusty road as a soldier of Justice for Anubis.

Ella thought Max would be too angry to stay and she would have understood, if been very depressed, if he had walked out of her apartment and let the slam of the door be their final communication. The closure of their friendship, as it were.

And then, he didn't leave.

She felt him beside her, felt his hand on her foot, could very faintly smell him, a combination of sweat, fire, smoke and, well, Max. Possibly deodorant, she was not sure, but he was there and he did not hate her. Unfortunately, his words and gentle voice made her cry harder, with sorrow at what was lost, fear that this was not really happening, and desperate, desperate relief.

“Oh, G-God,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, not trusting that it would not break if she used it. “I am s-sorry, I have seen n-no one, t-told n-no one... I-I am stammering, I ha-hate that...”

Ella removed her hands and turned her head to look at Max with red eyes, face damp face with tears still erratically forming and sliding over her cheeks, and an expression of amazement. Hope.

“You are... still here,” she whispered. “Thank you...”

[Max Kuryakin]

She only seemed to cry more when Max tried to soothe her, his mouth down-turned in an unhappy frown. He couldn't say he agreed with the choice, but he didn't hate her, but maybe the relief of him saying that made her cry. When she forced herself to keep talking, barely a whisper, and choked through with tears, his guess was probably more or less accurate. If he was the first one she'd even seen after all this, it made sense that he'd be there to get the whole dam breaking on her.

At her amazement that he was still there, Max gave her a nonplussed look, eyebrow arching in mild bewilderment. What'd she think? That he'd go running the moment the waterworks started? He'd never been the one in the squad afraid to handle emotional outbursts.

“Of course,” he settled on, squeezing her foot and smoothing over his bewilderment with a smile, small but honest and aiming for reassuring. “It's a lot, huh?”

[Ella Stern]

Sorrow. Relief. Fear. Hope. These emotions and so much, much more thrashed around in her head like a storm. Her head was pounding and her body ached.

Max still had a hand on her foot and she looked down at the physical contact with another person, but not just anyone. Someone she knew, someone with whom she had actually shared the Chaos of her new life. Someone who was listening.

There were people out there who would not be able to deal with such extraordinary news or even believe her, despite meeting her Passenger. It was an act. Somehow, she had put contact lenses in her eyes without them noticing. It was theatre. There was a hidden camera with a reality show behind it: Supernatural Punk'd or some such. Or she was just lying, playing a game, probably insane.

But Max, he had stayed, moved closer to her, actually reached out to touch her, even after meeting Pharaoh. He had conversed with the boy, without freaking out at the obvious shift in personalities. He accepted her strange circumstances and seemed to be surprised that she thought he might leave.

“It is... a lot,” she said to the hand on her foot. She wiped her eyes with her index fingers and met his gaze, bewildered herself. “How is it that you are only concerned about my plight and not concerned there is something very unusual about it?”