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psychic city, heartbeat city

No one else knows about this part of the Underground—the solitary memory Jane buried to live in this past when she needs to.

Cloverton, 2019. The day they went into town for the first time in a very long time. The day everything changed, back when Niles Caulder was not the cause of their destruction, when there was no Mr. Nobody or Brotherhood of Evil to haunt them and Dr. Harrison was not the host and Kay felt safe.

The day of the catalyst. It’s funny; she never thought she’d find herself wading in this memory, but time seems to only rot as it progresses.

She picks away at a nearby tree. Hammerhead takes a seat next to her, and she continues picking at the leaves, feeling their texture, feeling everything besides Hammerhead’s presence.

“Jesus, Jane,” Hammerhead sighs. “Why are you hiding here, of all fucking places?”

Jane turns to face her, eyes pouring over the scar across Hammerhead’s lips. It shouldn’t be there, the pain etched-in.

“How do you know about this memory?”

“I was there. Cliff had to stop me from fucking up that cop.”

“Oh.” Jane pauses. “Thought you were looking for Kay.”

“I was,” she replies. “You should come with.”

Jane inhales, exhales, in her own body. And she reaches out, runs her fingers over Hammerhead’s scar. It’s, somehow, soft. Hammerhead tries to swallow it down, but she sinks into the touch.