Before her death, Lydia never would have described herself as clumsy. Other people might find such behaviour endearing, but not Lydia. She has always behaved with such purpose. Lately though, memories have been slipping through her fingers. Her hand-eye coordination is off. She died of a stroke. It must be the brain injury.

It has been several days and Lydia still feels as though she is walking on starlight. No thought has clung to her for so long.

Barry knows. He watches her, carefully. Este will glare at him if they notice him linger, so Barry has got cleverer. He shows Kaia his poetry occasionally, promises her he is giving Lydia space. He is. Billions of atoms are constantly between them. There is never skin contact. There is only so much space in Chelster. Still, he could be on the opposite side of the galaxy, and he would be sure she was thinking about it.

He sits in the pews on a Tuesday night staring at the ceiling. Catholic churches are prettier, richer. This place is nothing special. Yet, Barry hasn't thought about leaving since their little social in the forest. Toronto is just somewhere. He could be with Lydia anywhere.

She wonders if he's outside. Lydia can't help it. Not many people are around even though it is well past midnight. She hopes he is as close as he feels.

At the top of the steps, she is pleasantly unsurprised.

Barry twists his head to look at her. Those steps could only have been her. He gestures for her to follow him.

Then, he walks deeper into the church. She heads after him.

The inner doors of the church lock. Ambrose taught some of the others how to pick locks and Clare didn't say anything about it. They discovered more rooms. There are the choir stalls which you can see from the pews and the pulpit. There is a chapel for private prayer, although small. The pastor has a study. There is a room where different holy objects and robes are stored, and general storage room. There is also a small banquet hall and a kitchen attached. Ambrose says he attended funerals of the elderly there, where people laughed.

"You've been more quiet lately," Lydia says just as she manages to catch up to him.

Barry smirks at her. He wraps his hand around the door handle of the storage closet.

Before them stand large shelves filled with items from years passed. He digs through a bin and then the next.

"I'm surprised you don't have anything interesting to say," Lydia whispers, leaning in close. No one else is here. At least, only the dead are supposed to be here this late.

"I don't say, I do," Barry says. Lies, really. All he does is say.

He turns just to look at Lydia. Her heart thunders. Pitter-pattering in her chest. Barry gestures for her to tuck in closer. Her head brushes up against his side as she peers in the bin. Inside sits an old typewriter.

"It's not a record player, but it is vintage," his voice is hush. "I bet it still works."

Lydia bends her neck to get a look into the bin. Her cheek brushes against the sleeve of Barry's shirt. He thinks his heart might explode, looking at the softness of her skin. He misses the pearls she used to wear. He has her, but he also doesn't. It is strange to have parts of her.

"You aren't good at manipulating me," she whispers.

Then, he's with Lydia again.

A hair falls in front of her face. He tucks it behind her ear. Her cheeks burn red.

"Old habits," he manages.

She kisses him. His fingers curl around her waist, pulling her in. Her smile becomes a laugh, and he stops for just a second. She cups his face and pulls him in deeper and deeper again.

~~~

When Leo needed help getting groceries, Nico offered to help first. The trek across town is long, but there are never in a position to pay for a taxi, if there were more than three in Chelster anyway. The grocery store closed at eleven and after a two-hour walk, they made it there with thirty minutes to spare. Now they are closing in on home, but Nico's arms ache.

Nico tried to massage their biceps, but their fingers ache from the strain of the grocery bags. Leo kneels in front of them massaging their knuckles, with Nico cross-legged on the grass. There is no curb in this part of Chelster. The prairies are known for their flat landscape.

"This can't go on much longer," Leo says. "We need to find some work."

"Shouldn't you not be encouraging us finding illegal jobs," Nico tries to adjust but winces as they do.

Leo smiles, just a bit. His face aches from the bitter cold. There has got to be a convenience store or a restaurant owner who would offer some of them money below the minimum wage in exchange for secrecy. They wouldn't hire Leo. Not with a face like his. Nobody in the grocery store could bare to look at him, probably thinking it impolite to stare. Leo isn't sure which is worse. He stops smiling.

"It's certainly more legal than whatever Eva is planning to do to acquire more funds," Leo manages. He hesitates. "I... I appreciate that you came along."

"I don't mind a midnight stroll," Nico says. They think of cold nights leaving bars in Montreal. "Actually, I... wait did you think I'd let you carry the groceries by yourself?"

Leo shrugs, "I guess not."

"You don't need to thank me, they are my groceries too."

"It's not..." Leo bites the inside of his cheek. He wonders if the skin is so melted that he won't feel the pain. He does. "I know I make the others uncomfortable."

"No," Nico says before they realize it is a lie.

It's hard to imagine it. Leo, kneeling on the ground before them. Nico's fingers twisted in Leo's palm. People have to like Leo. He plays guitar well, and he leads strongly. Although, Audrey has said Este's disappearance was so suspicious it's difficult to imagine it could be chalked up to police incompetence. Este hasn't ever corrected her. And once Leo yelped when he grabbed a hot pan and Fallon froze next to Leo. Ajay seems to like him, but Nico supposes that Ajay can be hard to read.

"Well, they aren't right," Nico says. "You're really nice, Leo. Even if you don't always seem that way."

Another chance wasted.

Leo sighs and stands up, "come on, let's get going."

~~~

On a Tuesday, there aren't places in Chelster that are open this late. Except truck stops. Time in truck stops is liminal. Over a basket of fries that they shouldn't have paid for, Clare and Kaia go over their research. Audrey often joins them in the library, Este occasionally.

Kaia wouldn't have come out for fries on her own, but the library closed at eight and Kaia couldn't imagine watching Clare go to spend her evening in a church basement with such a look on her face. She had bought another pack of cigarettes for Eva, who told her to keep the change, and so she supposed she might be fine spending six dollars on a few milkshakes.

She had greatly underestimated inflation.

"You like vinegar, huh?" Clare peers at Kaia, who has doused her half of the fries. It's so strong that Clare is sure you can smell it outside of this place.

"The chips were too crunchy," Kaia scrunches her nose.

"Chips," Clare smiles.

Kaia winks at Clare and takes a bite.

"RORY!"

She twists her head back. Someone called her name. Kaia peers around the seats. She feels warmer, somehow.

"Kaia," Clare says.

She realizes where she is. Rory isn't here. Her heart is thundering. Why did she expect to see her?

"The jukebox," Kaia answers, smiling. "I like the song."

Clare peers over her carefully, just in case they are wrong. No, there is no jukebox. Kaia is laughing, and sips on her water but doesn't take another bite. As Kaia sips, Clare tries not to stare at her face. Clearly, Kaia doesn't want to talk about it. Clare feels her head dip into a thousand questions, but then settles on an answer instead.

"Sometimes, I hear gunshots."

Kaia's laugh pauses. Her eyes don't hold her smile even her lips have been forced into the shape. She blinks, "sorry?"

"I was shot," Clare says. Their hand finds the place in their stomach they are sure it was, even if there is no mark. "I mean... you don't have to talk about it. I figured whatever happened has kept you in the library and you seem like a kind of private person. But... I don't know."

Kaia laughs, and Clare can't imagine ever hearing a gunshot again. Clare feels a blush rise to their cheeks.

"I've just..." Kaia shakes her head. "You, I can't imagine you in an interrogation room."

Kaia has been thinking about cops a lot. Generally, she doesn't mind Leo or Clare, but she knows who they worked for. What they represent. Kaia died after Clare, and only for that reason can she stand to be here with them. It was other police officers that named her a Jane Doe. She tries to associate Clare with them.

The taste is more bitter in her mouth than the vinegar.

"I guess," Clare grabs a fry off her plate, oblivious to how Kaia's smile is falling. "I... well. I guess you're right."

Kaia slurps her drink too quickly and the sound is grating.

~~~

Ajay was never good at getting extensions on papers. The few times he was ill in university, he forced himself to power through, churning out mangled words in lab reports and getting the lowest marks of his degree. He managed to stall Audrey but this morning she could hold it no longer. And so, he found people.

Ambrose asks no questions. No one asks Eva anything.

They've wandered a decent way across town, only setting out after dark. Audrey gave them all the darkest clothes they could find. Eva loaned them the duffle bag they use to bring their clothes to the laundromat. The money is running out rapidly, and Ajay is worried the shovels Audrey has procured are going to slice open the fabric and leave them even more impoverished.

Eva has been skipping through the streets. At first, Audrey cursed under her breath since she wanted to keep a low profile, then, she decided against it. Anyone who sees Eva like that, in a town like this, will assume she's some good-for-nothing young person who's either high or drunk. Probably high, given the rat's nest that is Eva's hair, with its terrible jagged cut. People who talk to the police don't look at people they think are homeless. Eyes averted, to avoid provocation, Audrey supposes.

Ajay keeps his jaw tight when they arrive at the graveyard. The fence is only as high as his ribs. He isn't exactly surprised, but he sure wasn't expecting to walk here.

"I'm in there," Audrey says. She came here with Este and Lydia when all of this began. "Well, maybe I am. We have to go see."

Ambrose grips his chest.

"In and out?" Ajay asks, nodding his head at the others.

Audrey nods but doesn't answer. It's planned. As if she is being recorded. Nothing she says now can or will be held against her.

Ajay hops the fence first, after throwing the shovels. They clank together when they hit the ground. He wants to get home. It's so damn cold.

Eva follows after him. Audrey gives her a boost, grumbling as she does. Without warning, Audrey grabs Ambrose and propels herself over the fence.

Ambrose stares at them. He's tall enough to hop the fence easily.

Eva rests her head on the melt bars, blinking up at him, "you're cute when you're excited, Brosie."

Ambrose peers down at her. His eyes are wide and his lips, he realizes, are parted, waiting. A corpse. He hasn't seen one since he was a child. Before he crawled into a coffin and his mother would not let him attend another funeral.

"Were you a necrophiliac before, or just now?" Eva leans up closer to him.

No one ever lets her push at them this much. She loves the reaction. Barry is fun because he can't control himself. Ambrose is like a bubble she cannot wait to burst. She needs his shoulders to just relax.

"Ro," Ambrose corrects her. "People I like can call me Ro."

He hops the fence. Eva sprints toward the others, peering only once over her shoulder. Ambrose trudges behind them. He takes a shortcut to the section he imagines Audrey is buried in. Nicer graves, but the section is larger than he imagined. He gets there before the others, lost in the hundreds of people that have died since him. He died in 2014, and she died in 2013, but half a decade has passed and then even more.

Audrey gets there with Ajay, and opens the bag. She's got three shovels, one for each of them. Someone must take notes. Someone must keep record.

"Dig."

~~~

Very, very rarely is Este in the church basement with so many people gone. If it were any other night they would be sleeping and forcing the others to do the same. Even alone, they aren't plotting. They don't need to plot. Their entire plan is configured and kept perfectly in their mind. It's going well. Audrey may be a chess champion, but Este knows how to move pawns. They can wait out their plan for years. They have, and they will. Years are behind Este. A night can wait.

Instead, Este is cooking. They'd rather not listen to the others complain of hunger pangs when they get back. While she stirs the ingredients of the stirfry, Este sips on the martini they made with their own alcohol. Este's cut of the money is serving them much better than Eva's shit booze.

Este tried to put on music but the Christian vegetable songs are barely acceptable sober let alone drunk. Fallon is playing guitar though, which is fine. She's smiling too.

Fallon is playing a song she had thought would be her first dance with Corrin. It won't be now. As much as Fallon aches, it does not do well to dwell. Usually, it's easier with Nico or Eva or Kaia to distract her. Kaia has been around less and less though.

She stops playing the guitar.

"We're you..." Fallon glances over at Este, who just takes the stirfry off the stovetop and turns off the burner. Este cocks an eyebrow and Fallon looks down. "We're you married?"

Este wonders if it counts. Shooting your wife is a pretty effective way to end your marriage. Certainly, it's quicker than a divorce.

"I was," they answer, even if their marriage was over when Jayce took their life.

"I wasn't," Fallon manages. Este isn't someone she usually talks to, and maybe that's why it is easy. "But I wanted to be. I lived with my partner, Corrin. I mean, she was my girlfriend, but sometimes she liked to be called my partner because it seemed less juvenile."

Este shakes their head. Fallon looks young, even if she probably isn't much younger than Este. Maybe Fallon is how old Este was when they married Jayce. Back then, Este certainly was more skittish too. Este didn't ramble like Fallon is though.

"I mean, we weren't really quite grown up yet, and I suppose I knew it. I mean, I know it. It's weird to talk about myself like I'm dead," it's weird to talk about any of this to Este. She just exudes luxury and wealth even in thrifted clothes, and Fallon imagines she would be judged by Este either way. "I was supposed to be engaged that night."

Este cross into the kitchen doorway. Their feet moved before their mind. Este just needed to grab Fallon. Marriage is a mistake, a disaster, and her death in a way saved her from all of that. Everything was taken from Este. Her whole life, everything leading up to her death. Every moment was for nothing, just to lie slaughtered like an animal somewhere, bleeding out before a man who promised to love her forever.

Something was stolen from Fallon too. It was her entire future.

Fallon's head turns. She stands up, backs into a wall, as if her pale skin will somehow disguise her in the off-white walls. She doesn't even look at the stranger's face.

Este follows Fallon's eyes to the stairwell.

The next wife stares back at her.

~~~~~

Ey yo. This took too long, but in my defence, I've been busy, and this is the FIRST thing I wrote this week since I finally had a second. Anywho, let me know what you think? I'm so excited to get going.