impala_chick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
impala_chick) wrote2023-09-06 07:24 pm
impala_chick) wrote2023-09-06 07:24 pm
Entry tags:
Too Busy Being Yours (Roswell New Mexico Fic)
Title: Too Busy Being Yours
Fandom: Roswell New Mexico
Characters/Pairings: Isobel Evans/Anatsa Mufaro
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 5,598
Warnings: Brief mention of Mrs. Long and a vaguely racist post that Anatsa sees.
A/N: Written for my last bingo over at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandom_empire
Summary: Five months after Isobel and Anatsa broke up, Anatsa is still not over her. Then she gets a new assignment that sends her right back to Roswell.
Tags: Investigations, Fundraisers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Break Up, Getting Back Together, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Powers Reveal
Fic on AO3
Chapter 1: Prologue.
Anatsa sank into her desk chair after a long day of interviews. When her story about the Roswell Regiment went viral, she was able to get a full time gig at the Albuquerque journal. She’d gotten her pick of assignments, so her beat was mostly focused on policing and social justice issues in New Mexico.
She’d been working nonstop for five months, focusing on her research and trying to put Isobel, and Roswell, behind her.
And yet Anatsa found her thoughts drifting to Isobel yet again. Isobel looked devastated that day, when Anatsa got back into her car instead of listening to what she wanted to tell her. Anatsa replayed her own words over and over in her head until she hated herself for what she’d done.
Isobel had become so guarded and aloof, unlike the vivacious and outspoken woman she’d fallen for. Anatsa couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things had shifted, but sometime after she said “I love you,” things changed. Isobel didn’t confide in her, and she seemed like she was actively trying to exclude Anatsa from conversations. Isobel was a million miles away whenever Anatsa tried talking to her, obviously thinking about something else.
Impulsiveness was a skill Anatsa had carefully cultivated as a reporter, so that she could immediately follow leads or ask the right questions during interviews. But her impulsiveness did not serve her well in her relationships. When Isobel said she wanted to talk, Anatsa found it easiest to go with her gut and walk away. She ended it in order to protect herself. She didn’t want to be the one who got dumped in the end.
There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t miss Isobel, though. For the first couple of weeks, she would even reach for her phone to text Isobel about something only to realize what she was doing. She desperately wanted to see her smile, and hear her laugh. She wanted to ask her how Woman as Warrior was going. She wanted to eat take-out with her and watch cheesy movies. And she wanted to feel the soft touch of Isobel's hand on her skin.
But she couldn’t go back now, not after she’d broken Isobel’s heart. She’d blown it, and no woman in their right mind would want Anatsa back after that.
Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.
Chapter 2: Deadline
Anatsa was pulled from her thoughts when Mr. Roy, the editor of the ABQ journal, shouted her name from his office down the hallway.
“Mufaro! You’ve been to Roswell before. That’s where you got your big scoop, right?”
“Yes,” Anatsa yelled back as she got up and headed down the hall.
“I’ve got a story for you to cover,” he said once Anatsa stood in his doorway.
Anatsa’s heart sank.
“The old alien emporium? It’s being turned into a local museum. There’s going to be a gala this weekend to fundraise for it. I’m asking for a puff piece, for our society page. This thing is generating a lot of buzz on Roswell social media, so let’s get in on this story.”
Anatsa scrambled for some kind of excuse, but came up empty.
“Isn’t there someone else available?”
Mr. Roy shook his head.
“I know normally this isn’t your thing, but you know these folks. It will be easier for you to get an invite and mingle with the locals. And I want some intimate details. We need to find the heart here. Maybe some hometown girl is making a difference? A boy scout is finishing his senior project? There’s always some cutesy angle with these things.”
She didn’t even bother hiding her annoyed facial expression, and Mr. Roy noticed.
“One social event won’t kill you, Mufaro,” he said heavily, clearly indicating the time for discussion was over. “Your deadline is Monday.”
Anatsa sighed. It was already Thursday, and she’d planned on spending the weekend catching up on reading.
“One weekend,” Anatsa relented. “Then I’m back to working on my policing in New Mexico story, right?”
“Of course.” Mr. Roy nodded in agreement.
Anatsa walked back down the hallway with her shoulders slumped. Once back in her office, she consciously did not slam the door. Not only did it feel like this assignment was beneath her, but she was going to have to show her face in Roswell again. Even if she didn’t run into Isobel, she’d definitely run into someone who knew Isobel.
There was nothing to be done about it. She’d never once seen Mr. Roy change his mind once he made a decision. She would just have to put her best face forward, and try to get through the weekend without embarrassing herself.
She started poking around online, looking for information. It wasn’t hard to find the event webpage. Dark green block text announced the “Roswell Emporium Restoration Fund” was going to be hosting an “exclusive fundraising gala.” The dress code was black tie formal, and there were options to reserve a single seat or a whole table. One additional page listed the contact information for the event. The website overall looked very professional, so she doubted the theory that there was some high schooler running it.
Anatsa emailed, half-hoping she was on some kind of Roswell blacklist and would have to pass on the assignment to someone else.
From: Anatsa.Mufaro@ABQJournal.com
Subject: Fundraising Gala Press Ticket
To: RoswellEmporium@gmail.com
To Whom it May Concern:
I am a reporter at the Albuquerque Journal. I’m currently working on a story regarding the UFO Emporium’s re-opening. I am requesting one press ticket for this weekend’s fundraiser in order to cover the event. I am also requesting the name of the event organizer so that I can schedule an interview. Please let me know if there are any questions.
Thank you,
Anatsa Mufaro
She switched gears after that and started looking for the people directly involved in the emporium restoration. There were no names specifically listed on the event webpage, so she had to cast a wide net in order to find what she was looking for. A couple of local gazettes had very brief articles mentioning the makeover of the UFO emporium, but there was no substantive information. She turned her attention to all Roswellians who were posting about the emporium and the gala on Facebook and Twitter.
Some people were waxing nostalgic about the time they spent at the UFO emporium growing up, and those people wanted the place to stay mostly the same. Others were excited to see something new and more sophisticated. It was clear that none of them had any idea what the plan ultimately was. Maybe the mystery of it all was a strategy to drive gala ticket sales.
She did scroll through Isobel’s social media for several minutes, but it was purely for research purposes. She absolutely did not stare at pictures of Isobel looking fit in her workout gear promoting Woman as Warrior classes.
Instead, she hit the back button and went down some slightly less enjoyable rabbit holes.
She stumbled upon a rant post from Mrs. Long. She unfortunately had to re-read the wall of facebook text a couple of times to actually understand any of the overall alarmist language, but the name Roy Bronson was mentioned twice.
According to Mrs. Long, the Roswell City Council was going to include a man named Roy Bronson and his descendants in the emporium history display. There were also plans to include some of the terrible history of the Caulfield prison. Mrs. Long called out Maria DeLuca and Liz Ortecho for supporting the city council’s proposal.
Anatsa was confident that Mrs. Long loved conspiracy theories and was generally just a terrible person with racist motivations. But Anatsa couldn’t ignore the first real leads she’d gotten all day.
She started searching genealogy websites for a Roy Bronson in Roswell, New Mexico. She found a Mr. Bronson who worked on the Long farm as the foreman, but there wasn’t much information available about him. There was mention of a spouse with no name listed, and a daughter that died during childbirth. Anatsa was able to find the grave location, and decided to check it out on her way to Roswell.
Anatsa could also try to ask Liz and Maria about Roy Bronson once she got into town, and see if there was an actual connection to The Wild Pony. She dreaded that part, because for all she knew Liz and Maria would be angry with her. But she really had no other choice.
She saved her notes and was getting ready to pack up, when an email notification popped up.
From: RoswellEmporium@gmail.com
Subject: RE: Fundraising Gala Press Ticket
To: Anatsa.Mufaro@ABQJournal.com
Your ticket for the fundraising gala is attached. Press will not be allowed early entry. Your request to interview the event organizer is denied.
That response caused Anatsa to raise an eyebrow. It sure seemed like someone was trying to keep information from her, which only peaked her interest more. Maybe there really was an interesting story to be discovered.
When she glanced at the clock, she realized that over two hours had passed and she still had to go pack before she could hit the road. She snapped her laptop closed and gathered up her notebook with newfound enthusiasm for her investigation.
Chapter 3: Great grandparents
Anatsa was greeted warmly at the Reservation on Friday morning, but no one she approached seemed to know Roy Bronson. Someone working at the Burnt Wells Trading Post suggested she talk to Gregory Manes, probably just to get her out of their hair.
She saw the family resemblance to Alex immediately, in Gregory’s dark hair and bright smile. He was friendly and approachable, so Anatsa introduced herself and mentioned that she’d met Alex before. Gregory probably wouldn’t know about Roy Bronson, so she decided to switch tack and ask about grave sites.
“Is there a graveyard here?”
Gregory paused, considering her.
“Why are you asking?”
“There might be a connection to a story I’m working on.”
Gregory narrowed his eyes, looked down at the camera hanging from her neck, and put a hand on his hip. Anatsa clocked those gestures as signs he didn’t trust her.
“There are many people who are buried on the reservation, and all of them still have a family connection to this place. You can visit, but I can’t let you take any pictures.”
“Of course. I will be nothing but respectful,” Anatsa promised.
As Gregory led her up a gentle hill with all kinds of wild plants growing on it and a clear view of the expansive blue horizon, she was struck by the beauty of the location. It was an excellent choice for a burial site.
As they walked, she kept her eyes peeled for grave markers with the name Bronson, or for children below the age of one. She could tell that Gregory was keeping an eye on her, but she didn’t let that bother her.
They came upon two grave markers right next to each other. They seemed unusual because a beautiful bounty of brightly colored purple, yellow, and pink flowers had grown up around them.
“This is beautiful,” Anatsa said. She leaned down to read the marker.
Louise Truman – June 14, 1997
And then she noticed another, smaller grave nearby. All it said was Baby Truman.
Anatsa couldn’t be sure, but these could very well be the markers she’d been looking for.
“Is it unusual for babies to be unnamed on their graves?” She asked.
Gregory looked off into the distance, considering his answer.
“You know, I’m not sure,” he finally said as he turned back to Anatsa.
That answer didn’t sit well with her. She’d hardly ever seen a grave with no name on it.
After they walked back to the trading post, she thanked Gregory and got into her car, itching to research Louise Truman and her child.
---
The Roswell Library’s microfiche collection turned out to be very useful, even though it took her all day to find what she was looking for.
In 1948, The Gazette published a picture of the winners of a contest at the fair. Louise Truman was standing right next to Roy Bronson. Louise and Roy were friendly enough with each other to stand close together, so it seemed entirely possible that Louise was his partner. There was also a boy in the picture, and he looked to be maybe 8 or 9 years old. She had to wonder if maybe Louise and Roy had another child. There was no way for to confirm when Roy and Louise actually met, but she could find no other record of Louise Truman existing before 1948.
Anatsa looked at her watch. It was already 9 p.m. on a Friday, far too late to go knocking on doors. But she knew that The Wild Pony was definitely open. Maria was well-connected in town, and could probably tell her who the fundraising gala host was, but whether Maria would actually talk to her was a big unknown.
And then there was the issue of whether Isobel would be there.
When she drove into Roswell earlier that day, she parked behind the library off of the main street, and had felt pretty confident that she wouldn’t run into Isobel. But now her job required her to go to a place that Isobel frequented. The Wild Pony was probably going to be busy on a Friday night, but it wasn’t a huge place. If Isobel was there, Anatsa would see her.
The idea of seeing Isobel both thrilled and terrified her. Anatsa could never act like she didn’t know her, so she’d have to say something. But would Isobel say anything back? It would hurt like hell if Isobel just brushed her off.
Anatsa decided she didn’t want to waste her entire Friday night when there was research to be done. If Isobel was there, so be it.
She put on a nice shirt and tight jeans, just in case. It wouldn’t do for Isobel to see her for the first time in 5 months wearing something drab.
---
She didn’t see Isobel’s car out front, and she pushed down the pang of disappointment in her gut. When she headed inside, country music was blaring and the place was bustling with locals. She carefully pushed past a group gathered around the pool table, and was able to squeeze in at the bar between an older guy with his baseball cap on backwards and a blond woman in heels.
Anatsa spotted Maria before she noticed Anatsa was there. She came around the bar to take some more orders, and grabbed a dish rag. When she turned towards the bar again, her eyes landed on Anatsa.
Maria froze for a moment and glared at her, before walking over. Anatsa smiled, but she doubted the smile reached her eyes.
“I’d kick you out, but you look like you could use a drink,” Maria said, her voice tinged with annoyance. “And lucky for you, Isobel isn’t here tonight.”
“I’m not - this isn’t about Isobel. I’m here for work.”
Maria rolled her eyes.
“Right. Well, what’ll it be?”
Anatsa looked over at the beer taps.
“That strawberry cider sounds good.”
Maria looked Anatsa right in the eye as she said, “You know what, we are fresh out. I’ll get you a Coors.”
Anatsa did not laugh as Maria handed her the lukewarm can from underneath the counter, but it was a pretty funny joke. Considering Maria could have been way meaner to her, Anatsa was content with drinking the shitty beer.
“Can I ask you about the Emporium re-opening?” Anatsa had to take her shot.
Maria put her forearm on the bar and leaned in conspiratorially.
“No, you can’t. And you didn’t hear it from me, but the City Council needed to be educated about Roswell’s dark history. The Emporium reopening is going to be about both the good and the bad of Roswell, come hell or high water.”
As Maria walked away, Anatsa settled in with her beer and internally debated staying until closing to see if Maria would tell her more.
The woman next to her was gossiping with her friend, and Anatsa kept her ears open while she sipped. She got halfway through the less-than-appetizing Coors before the conversation turned to something actually interesting. The women started talking about their outfits for the fundraising gala, and then they both name-dropped Maria.
“You know, Maria’s family member is going to be part of the history display. I hope they give us a preview of it tomorrow,” the woman said excitedly.
“Couldn’t we just ask her about it?”
The woman shook her head. “Oh no, she won’t say. I think she’s been sworn to secrecy.”
“Well I’m not surprised by that. Ann Evans loves to be dramatic and Isobel takes after her,” her friend said dismissively.
Anatsa felt her blood pressure rise, and she was very close to turning towards the women and telling them off for talking shit about Isobel.
“But at least Isobel knows how to plan an event,” the other woman said.
The woman nodded in agreement, and then the pair of them moved on to talk about other things. Anatsa took a deep breath and relaxed back onto her stool.
That at least confirmed that Maria and Isobel were involved.
Maria did not come back over to Anatsa’s part of the bar for the rest of the night, so she decided to leave. She chugged the rest of her beer just out of spite, because she didn’t want Maria to come collect her can and find it still full. Then she threw a 20 down on the bar and hurried out.
Once back at the hotel, she opened up her laptop and tried doing some more digging. She couldn’t find a family connection between Isobel and Maria, but she did find out that Maria’s mom Mimi, and grandma Patricia, had been local legends in Roswell. There were rumors that they were psychic. Anatsa had her doubts, but Maria did seem to have something special about her. And she’d seen enough of Roswell to know that weird things did occur there.
She rubbed her eyes, and leaned back in her chair. It was hitting her that she was definitely going to see Isobel tomorrow. She was going to look the woman she loved in the eye, and it was probably going to feel like Anatsa had become a stranger to her. If Maria’s icy attitude was anything to go by, Isobel was still angry. That definitely increased the odds that Isobel wouldn't want to hear anything Anatsa wanted to say.
Anatsa shivered and pulled a heavy blanket around her shoulders. Ever since the break up, she’d focused on staying as busy and distracted as possible. That seemed to mostly be working for her. Once she saw Isobel again, she worried that her whole facade would crumble.
Chapter 4: Evening Gown
When Anatsa arrived at the gala, the parking lot was already full. As she shut her car door, she scooped up the skirt of her long flowing orange gown to make sure it didn’t get caught. She was wearing the prettiest dress she owned, and that choice had been very much on purpose. She didn't want to risk getting her dress dirty before she even made it inside.
She crossed the street and walked up to the big adobe building where the gala was. Someone she didn’t know scanned her press ticket and welcomed her inside.
The hallway quickly opened up into a dining room that was resplendent in various soft shades of orange. It reminded her of the New Mexican dessert at sunset, which is probably why Isobel had chosen those colors. Anatsa was pleased that her dress didn't clash. Maybe with an orange dress, she'd blend right in.
The room was full of people dressed in their best, milling around and chatting. Most had champagne flutes in hand. She noticed Max up in the front of the room wearing a blazer and bolo tie. She wasn’t really in the mood for small talk, so she avoided him. She was going to grab a drink until she saw Liz and Maria over by the bar, so she headed for the back of the room instead.
She recognized a few other reporters she’d met while working in Roswell, gathered around a table. The table’s centerpiece was a lovely green succulent with a sign sticking out that said ‘Press.’ When she walked over, she noticed there were place cards for the various papers, but not for the ABQ journal. She figured she must have registered too late for a place card to be printed and decided not to take it personally. She had no problem standing in the back, anyway. That might make it easier to overhear conversations.
Just as she was getting comfortable leaning up against a wall, Isobel came out onstage and grabbed a microphone.
Anatsa couldn’t help the audible gasp that escaped her lips. Isobel was a vision. Anatsa was certain she’d never looked more beautiful.
Isobel was wearing a white pinstripe suit and jacket that seemed perfectly tailored for her. There was a thick white ascot tied around her neck, and she looked like she wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath the jacket because the bare skin of her chest glowed softly under the stage lights.
For a moment Anatsa forgot she was there on business. But as Isobel started talking, she quickly got her notebook out of her pocket.
“Good afternoon everyone, thank you for coming to our first ever Roswell Community Gala and Fundraiser,” Isobel said as she looked out at the crowd. “We are here to help create a museum that matters, a place that will represent us and showcase more than just our UFOS.”
There was a smattering of laughter, and Isobel grinned.
“Seriously though, the work that has already been done to make this place a reality has been astounding. And I’m so proud of Roswell for acknowledging and including not just our glorious history, but also some of our worst moments. This is a chance for us to commemorate those who suffered needlessly at Caulfield Prison, and promise that in the future, we can do better. I’m happy to be joined by many friends and family tonight to celebrate that future.”
Isobel smiled, and the crowd erupted in applause. Isobel's speech was definitely fit for print. Anatsa was furiously writing quotes verbatim.
Once the applause subsided, Isobel took up the mic again.
“The silent auction items are over on your right, my left. There is a plethora of gorgeous items donated by local artists, so please check that out. There’s also a photobooth, so don’t miss out on that. Please enjoy your dinner and thank you for your generosity.”
Isobel paused and waved at the crowd. Her hand faltered for a moment, and she seemed to meet Anatsa’s gaze. Anatsa froze with her pen pressed against her notepad, and her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t read Isobel from so far away, but she didn’t smile or move her face much at all, which only made the awkward scrutiny worse.
Then Isobel started walking off stage, and the moment was broken. People were chattering all around her as they eagerly took their seats, and waiters started bringing out dinner plates. But Anatsa wasn’t hungry. She had to see Isobel again, even if only for a moment. This might be her only chance to apologize.
She took off down the hall off of stage left, hoping Isobel was still lingering. When she rounded a corner, she was in luck.
“Isobel!” She called out.
Once Isobel turned around, Anatsa was thunderstruck for a moment. Words escaped her. Just saying “hi” seemed so stupid.
Isobel put a hand on her hip and sighed.
“Anatsa,” she said softly.
“So sorry to bother you. I just wanted to see you,” Anatsa said in a rush, her words jumbled on top of each other.
“Well now you have,” Isobel said. The corner of her mouth turned up into a cautious smile. “But I’ve really got to get back to the party.”
“Maybe we could talk later?”
Isobel cocked her head, considering her for a moment.
“When this is over. Off the record, though,” Isobel chided, her voice firm..
Anatsa eagerly agreed. “Of course. Brilliant speech, by the way.”
Isobel’s face broke into a genuine smile. “Thanks.”
She turned around, and Anatsa watched her go. Her stomach was churning from nervous butterflies, and she felt a little queasy. It reminded her of how she felt the first time they met.
Anatsa was still a goner for Isobel. Maybe she always would be.
---
Once Anatsa went back to the dining room, she tried to think about anything besides Isobel. She flipped open her notebook and looked through her notes. She had plenty for a puff piece about Roswell coming together to raise money for their community. But some more great quotes wouldn’t hurt. She started working the room with her press badge prominently displayed, and a few of Roswell’s finest socialites agreed to chat with her about why they were donating. She was also curious about Caulfield, but since she didn't have her laptop, she was going to have to hold off on looking it up.
By the time the winners from the silent auction were being called up to the stage and thanked, Anatsa was thanking her lucky stars the event was almost over. She was trying to plan what she wanted to say to Isobel in her head, and the loud voice over the mic was not helping her concentrate. She decided to step outside for some fresh air.
The sky was illuminated with warm pink and orange tones, and she was reminded of just how pretty Roswell could be. The sky seemed to go on forever, the view unobstructed by mountains or skyscrapers.
In the fading sunlight, Antasa could see a few people milling around just outside the doors. She walked out to the sidewalk, and then spotted Isobel hugging and waving goodbye to an older couple. Anatsa bit her lip and decided to head back inside before Isobel spotted her, because she didn’t want it to look like she was being pushy. She hadn’t meant to intrude on what seemed to be an intimate moment.
As she turned to leave, a red blur caught her eye. She watched in abject horror as a few things happened in rapid succession. The old woman stepped off the sidewalk and into the street just as a huge red truck hauled ass around the corner. It seemed inevitable that the woman was going to get hit.
Anatsa opened her mouth to scream, but miraculously, nothing happened.
It seemed as if something pulled the woman backwards, and deposited her right back onto the sidewalk. One moment the woman was in the street, and the next she wasn’t. Even the woman seemed surprised, judging by her wide-eyed expression.
The truck sped on by, oblivious to what almost happened.
Chapter 5: Not the Time to Panic
The older gentleman was hugging the woman who had just cheated death, and Isobel was patting her back. She projected calm with her slight smile and comforting hand, but her gaze darted around, as if checking to see if anyone had been watching.
Anatsa looked around too, scrambling for an explanation. Then Isobel met her gaze, and her eyes went wide. She looked as if she’d been caught, her expression crestfallen and fearful.
That was ridiculous. Anatsa must have been misreading the situation. Isobel hadn’t caused that truck to come barreling around the corner, and she hadn’t pushed that woman into the street.
And yet, something or someone must have saved that woman. She hadn’t propelled herself backwards on her own. Anatsa would never have blamed magic in ordinary circumstances, but logic wasn’t providing an explanation for what she’d just seen.
Anatsa hurried back inside and went into the woman’s bathroom. She splashed water on her face, and tried to gather her wits.
Anatsa was spiraling, but she couldn’t help it. Superpowers? Magic? Telekinesis? Aliens? All of those ideas were completely nonsense. She gripped the sink and looked at herself in the mirror with an exasperated expression. Normally, she trusted herself and her own instincts. But maybe this was one of those phenomena she wasn’t going to be able to explain. She took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom, ready to chalk the whole thing up as a coincidence.
That was until Isobel found her in the hallway.
“How much did you see?” Isobel asked, her voice strained.
Anatsa’s eyes widened. “So there was something to see?”
“Let’s not do this here,” Isobel said as she grabbed Anatsa’s arm and pulled her into a coat closet.
After she shut the door, Isobel flicked on the light switch and turned to Anatsa. There was fear in her eyes, a fear of Anatsa, and that made Anatsa feel like the worst person on the planet. When she tried to reach for Isobel’s hand, Isobel flinched and pulled away.
Isobel’s mouth was pressed together in a thin line, and her shoulders were so tense they almost touched her ears. She looked the way she had when Anatsa had broken up with her, her whole body sunken in as if she was trying to protect herself. Anatsa's first instinct was to reassure her, or offer an explanation, but she stopped herself. She waited to hear what Isobel wanted to say.
“I have abilities.” Isobel said quietly. “I actually wanted to tell you this before, but.”
She left unsaid the part where Anatsa just walked away without listening last time.
“If it helps, I have regretted that decision every day since,” Anatsa said sincerely.
Isobel gave her a small, watery smile. “It does, actually.”
Then Isobel turned her palm face up, and a green coat from the rack behind Anatsa floated over and landed gently in Isobel’s hand.
Anatsa gasped, quite literally shocked into silence. It was absolutely incredible to see Isobel display her power so easily. It all seemed so organic. Isobel had barely moved and yet the coat had jumped up to do her bidding.
“I’m not… from here. There’s so much more to tell you. I want to trust you with this.” Isobel dropped the coat and leveled her gaze at Anatsa. “Please tell me I can trust you with this.”
Anatsa’s heart ached when she realized Isobel must have been carrying around this huge secret, deliberately hiding it from Anatsa because she thought she couldn’t trust her. This had to have been the reason Isobel was so guarded before. Even though she had a million questions, she held her tongue. At that moment, she just wanted to prove to Isobel that things could be different for them the second time around.
“You shouldn’t have to hide, especially not with me. You can trust me.” Anatsa reached out for Isobel’s hand and this time, Isobel let her.
Isobel sighed, and a smile slowly spread across her face. Anatsa squeezed her hand, her heart pounding in her chest as her gaze flicked down to Isobel’s mouth. Isobel had just saved a woman and confessed her deepest secret to her in a coat closet, and Anatsa was sure she’d never been more attracted to anyone in her life.
“And you’re a hero, babe,” Anatsa said with awe. “Let’s not forget that part.”
Isobel huffed out a laugh. “Wait until you hear the whole story.”
Anatsa wasn’t sure if she was allowed to, but she leaned in just a little closer, her body pulled towards Isobel of its own volition.
“I suppose you have to get back to the party,” Antasa said as she cocked her head.
Isobel bit her lip and made no move to leave. “Yeah, I should probably say goodbye to my esteemed guests.”
“Wouldn’t want anyone to come find you in a coat closet,” Anatsa drawled, dropping her voice low.
“Right,” Isobel agreed, tipping forward.
Anatsa couldn’t tell who actually started the kiss, but when her lips met Isobel’s, her heart soared. It was as if they’d never been apart, falling perfectly into sync as Anatsa put her hand on Isobel’s hip and breathed Isobel’s air.
“Come with me? After I kick everyone out of here?” Isobel whispered against Anatsa’s mouth.
“Of course,” Anatsa answered easily. “Anywhere.”
Then Anatsa leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed Isobel again. Anatsa’s toes curled in her shoes as Isobel licked into her mouth, and Anatsa tilted her head and gasped from the simple pleasure of Isobel’s tongue.
And then Isobel flashed a dazzling, dizzying smile before she turned to grab the door.
“Wait,” Anatsa called out, annoyed with herself for almost missing her chance to apologize. “I promise I’ll be a better listener. I’m sorry about walking away.”
Isobel paused, squinted her eyes, and put her hand on her hip. “You owe me. Maybe some wine? A nice dinner? A new outfit?”
“You drive a hard bargain.” Anatsa grinned, relief flooding through her. “But consider it done.”
Isobel leaned over and grabbed Anatsa’s chin so that she could pull her into a brief but commanding kiss.
“I’ll hold you to it,” Isobel said in Anatsa’s ear.
Her sultry voice was enough to make Anatsa’s whole body shiver.
Once Isobel left, Anatsa had to take a second just to catch her breath. After she gathered herself, she eagerly followed Isobel into a future she’d hardly thought possible the day before.
((the end))
Fandom: Roswell New Mexico
Characters/Pairings: Isobel Evans/Anatsa Mufaro
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 5,598
Warnings: Brief mention of Mrs. Long and a vaguely racist post that Anatsa sees.
A/N: Written for my last bingo over at
fandom_empireSummary: Five months after Isobel and Anatsa broke up, Anatsa is still not over her. Then she gets a new assignment that sends her right back to Roswell.
Tags: Investigations, Fundraisers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Break Up, Getting Back Together, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Powers Reveal
Fic on AO3
Anatsa sank into her desk chair after a long day of interviews. When her story about the Roswell Regiment went viral, she was able to get a full time gig at the Albuquerque journal. She’d gotten her pick of assignments, so her beat was mostly focused on policing and social justice issues in New Mexico.
She’d been working nonstop for five months, focusing on her research and trying to put Isobel, and Roswell, behind her.
And yet Anatsa found her thoughts drifting to Isobel yet again. Isobel looked devastated that day, when Anatsa got back into her car instead of listening to what she wanted to tell her. Anatsa replayed her own words over and over in her head until she hated herself for what she’d done.
Isobel had become so guarded and aloof, unlike the vivacious and outspoken woman she’d fallen for. Anatsa couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things had shifted, but sometime after she said “I love you,” things changed. Isobel didn’t confide in her, and she seemed like she was actively trying to exclude Anatsa from conversations. Isobel was a million miles away whenever Anatsa tried talking to her, obviously thinking about something else.
Impulsiveness was a skill Anatsa had carefully cultivated as a reporter, so that she could immediately follow leads or ask the right questions during interviews. But her impulsiveness did not serve her well in her relationships. When Isobel said she wanted to talk, Anatsa found it easiest to go with her gut and walk away. She ended it in order to protect herself. She didn’t want to be the one who got dumped in the end.
There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t miss Isobel, though. For the first couple of weeks, she would even reach for her phone to text Isobel about something only to realize what she was doing. She desperately wanted to see her smile, and hear her laugh. She wanted to ask her how Woman as Warrior was going. She wanted to eat take-out with her and watch cheesy movies. And she wanted to feel the soft touch of Isobel's hand on her skin.
But she couldn’t go back now, not after she’d broken Isobel’s heart. She’d blown it, and no woman in their right mind would want Anatsa back after that.
Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.
Anatsa was pulled from her thoughts when Mr. Roy, the editor of the ABQ journal, shouted her name from his office down the hallway.
“Mufaro! You’ve been to Roswell before. That’s where you got your big scoop, right?”
“Yes,” Anatsa yelled back as she got up and headed down the hall.
“I’ve got a story for you to cover,” he said once Anatsa stood in his doorway.
Anatsa’s heart sank.
“The old alien emporium? It’s being turned into a local museum. There’s going to be a gala this weekend to fundraise for it. I’m asking for a puff piece, for our society page. This thing is generating a lot of buzz on Roswell social media, so let’s get in on this story.”
Anatsa scrambled for some kind of excuse, but came up empty.
“Isn’t there someone else available?”
Mr. Roy shook his head.
“I know normally this isn’t your thing, but you know these folks. It will be easier for you to get an invite and mingle with the locals. And I want some intimate details. We need to find the heart here. Maybe some hometown girl is making a difference? A boy scout is finishing his senior project? There’s always some cutesy angle with these things.”
She didn’t even bother hiding her annoyed facial expression, and Mr. Roy noticed.
“One social event won’t kill you, Mufaro,” he said heavily, clearly indicating the time for discussion was over. “Your deadline is Monday.”
Anatsa sighed. It was already Thursday, and she’d planned on spending the weekend catching up on reading.
“One weekend,” Anatsa relented. “Then I’m back to working on my policing in New Mexico story, right?”
“Of course.” Mr. Roy nodded in agreement.
Anatsa walked back down the hallway with her shoulders slumped. Once back in her office, she consciously did not slam the door. Not only did it feel like this assignment was beneath her, but she was going to have to show her face in Roswell again. Even if she didn’t run into Isobel, she’d definitely run into someone who knew Isobel.
There was nothing to be done about it. She’d never once seen Mr. Roy change his mind once he made a decision. She would just have to put her best face forward, and try to get through the weekend without embarrassing herself.
She started poking around online, looking for information. It wasn’t hard to find the event webpage. Dark green block text announced the “Roswell Emporium Restoration Fund” was going to be hosting an “exclusive fundraising gala.” The dress code was black tie formal, and there were options to reserve a single seat or a whole table. One additional page listed the contact information for the event. The website overall looked very professional, so she doubted the theory that there was some high schooler running it.
Anatsa emailed, half-hoping she was on some kind of Roswell blacklist and would have to pass on the assignment to someone else.
From: Anatsa.Mufaro@ABQJournal.com
Subject: Fundraising Gala Press Ticket
To: RoswellEmporium@gmail.com
To Whom it May Concern:
I am a reporter at the Albuquerque Journal. I’m currently working on a story regarding the UFO Emporium’s re-opening. I am requesting one press ticket for this weekend’s fundraiser in order to cover the event. I am also requesting the name of the event organizer so that I can schedule an interview. Please let me know if there are any questions.
Thank you,
Anatsa Mufaro
She switched gears after that and started looking for the people directly involved in the emporium restoration. There were no names specifically listed on the event webpage, so she had to cast a wide net in order to find what she was looking for. A couple of local gazettes had very brief articles mentioning the makeover of the UFO emporium, but there was no substantive information. She turned her attention to all Roswellians who were posting about the emporium and the gala on Facebook and Twitter.
Some people were waxing nostalgic about the time they spent at the UFO emporium growing up, and those people wanted the place to stay mostly the same. Others were excited to see something new and more sophisticated. It was clear that none of them had any idea what the plan ultimately was. Maybe the mystery of it all was a strategy to drive gala ticket sales.
She did scroll through Isobel’s social media for several minutes, but it was purely for research purposes. She absolutely did not stare at pictures of Isobel looking fit in her workout gear promoting Woman as Warrior classes.
Instead, she hit the back button and went down some slightly less enjoyable rabbit holes.
She stumbled upon a rant post from Mrs. Long. She unfortunately had to re-read the wall of facebook text a couple of times to actually understand any of the overall alarmist language, but the name Roy Bronson was mentioned twice.
According to Mrs. Long, the Roswell City Council was going to include a man named Roy Bronson and his descendants in the emporium history display. There were also plans to include some of the terrible history of the Caulfield prison. Mrs. Long called out Maria DeLuca and Liz Ortecho for supporting the city council’s proposal.
Anatsa was confident that Mrs. Long loved conspiracy theories and was generally just a terrible person with racist motivations. But Anatsa couldn’t ignore the first real leads she’d gotten all day.
She started searching genealogy websites for a Roy Bronson in Roswell, New Mexico. She found a Mr. Bronson who worked on the Long farm as the foreman, but there wasn’t much information available about him. There was mention of a spouse with no name listed, and a daughter that died during childbirth. Anatsa was able to find the grave location, and decided to check it out on her way to Roswell.
Anatsa could also try to ask Liz and Maria about Roy Bronson once she got into town, and see if there was an actual connection to The Wild Pony. She dreaded that part, because for all she knew Liz and Maria would be angry with her. But she really had no other choice.
She saved her notes and was getting ready to pack up, when an email notification popped up.
From: RoswellEmporium@gmail.com
Subject: RE: Fundraising Gala Press Ticket
To: Anatsa.Mufaro@ABQJournal.com
Your ticket for the fundraising gala is attached. Press will not be allowed early entry. Your request to interview the event organizer is denied.
That response caused Anatsa to raise an eyebrow. It sure seemed like someone was trying to keep information from her, which only peaked her interest more. Maybe there really was an interesting story to be discovered.
When she glanced at the clock, she realized that over two hours had passed and she still had to go pack before she could hit the road. She snapped her laptop closed and gathered up her notebook with newfound enthusiasm for her investigation.
Anatsa was greeted warmly at the Reservation on Friday morning, but no one she approached seemed to know Roy Bronson. Someone working at the Burnt Wells Trading Post suggested she talk to Gregory Manes, probably just to get her out of their hair.
She saw the family resemblance to Alex immediately, in Gregory’s dark hair and bright smile. He was friendly and approachable, so Anatsa introduced herself and mentioned that she’d met Alex before. Gregory probably wouldn’t know about Roy Bronson, so she decided to switch tack and ask about grave sites.
“Is there a graveyard here?”
Gregory paused, considering her.
“Why are you asking?”
“There might be a connection to a story I’m working on.”
Gregory narrowed his eyes, looked down at the camera hanging from her neck, and put a hand on his hip. Anatsa clocked those gestures as signs he didn’t trust her.
“There are many people who are buried on the reservation, and all of them still have a family connection to this place. You can visit, but I can’t let you take any pictures.”
“Of course. I will be nothing but respectful,” Anatsa promised.
As Gregory led her up a gentle hill with all kinds of wild plants growing on it and a clear view of the expansive blue horizon, she was struck by the beauty of the location. It was an excellent choice for a burial site.
As they walked, she kept her eyes peeled for grave markers with the name Bronson, or for children below the age of one. She could tell that Gregory was keeping an eye on her, but she didn’t let that bother her.
They came upon two grave markers right next to each other. They seemed unusual because a beautiful bounty of brightly colored purple, yellow, and pink flowers had grown up around them.
“This is beautiful,” Anatsa said. She leaned down to read the marker.
Louise Truman – June 14, 1997
And then she noticed another, smaller grave nearby. All it said was Baby Truman.
Anatsa couldn’t be sure, but these could very well be the markers she’d been looking for.
“Is it unusual for babies to be unnamed on their graves?” She asked.
Gregory looked off into the distance, considering his answer.
“You know, I’m not sure,” he finally said as he turned back to Anatsa.
That answer didn’t sit well with her. She’d hardly ever seen a grave with no name on it.
After they walked back to the trading post, she thanked Gregory and got into her car, itching to research Louise Truman and her child.
---
The Roswell Library’s microfiche collection turned out to be very useful, even though it took her all day to find what she was looking for.
In 1948, The Gazette published a picture of the winners of a contest at the fair. Louise Truman was standing right next to Roy Bronson. Louise and Roy were friendly enough with each other to stand close together, so it seemed entirely possible that Louise was his partner. There was also a boy in the picture, and he looked to be maybe 8 or 9 years old. She had to wonder if maybe Louise and Roy had another child. There was no way for to confirm when Roy and Louise actually met, but she could find no other record of Louise Truman existing before 1948.
Anatsa looked at her watch. It was already 9 p.m. on a Friday, far too late to go knocking on doors. But she knew that The Wild Pony was definitely open. Maria was well-connected in town, and could probably tell her who the fundraising gala host was, but whether Maria would actually talk to her was a big unknown.
And then there was the issue of whether Isobel would be there.
When she drove into Roswell earlier that day, she parked behind the library off of the main street, and had felt pretty confident that she wouldn’t run into Isobel. But now her job required her to go to a place that Isobel frequented. The Wild Pony was probably going to be busy on a Friday night, but it wasn’t a huge place. If Isobel was there, Anatsa would see her.
The idea of seeing Isobel both thrilled and terrified her. Anatsa could never act like she didn’t know her, so she’d have to say something. But would Isobel say anything back? It would hurt like hell if Isobel just brushed her off.
Anatsa decided she didn’t want to waste her entire Friday night when there was research to be done. If Isobel was there, so be it.
She put on a nice shirt and tight jeans, just in case. It wouldn’t do for Isobel to see her for the first time in 5 months wearing something drab.
---
She didn’t see Isobel’s car out front, and she pushed down the pang of disappointment in her gut. When she headed inside, country music was blaring and the place was bustling with locals. She carefully pushed past a group gathered around the pool table, and was able to squeeze in at the bar between an older guy with his baseball cap on backwards and a blond woman in heels.
Anatsa spotted Maria before she noticed Anatsa was there. She came around the bar to take some more orders, and grabbed a dish rag. When she turned towards the bar again, her eyes landed on Anatsa.
Maria froze for a moment and glared at her, before walking over. Anatsa smiled, but she doubted the smile reached her eyes.
“I’d kick you out, but you look like you could use a drink,” Maria said, her voice tinged with annoyance. “And lucky for you, Isobel isn’t here tonight.”
“I’m not - this isn’t about Isobel. I’m here for work.”
Maria rolled her eyes.
“Right. Well, what’ll it be?”
Anatsa looked over at the beer taps.
“That strawberry cider sounds good.”
Maria looked Anatsa right in the eye as she said, “You know what, we are fresh out. I’ll get you a Coors.”
Anatsa did not laugh as Maria handed her the lukewarm can from underneath the counter, but it was a pretty funny joke. Considering Maria could have been way meaner to her, Anatsa was content with drinking the shitty beer.
“Can I ask you about the Emporium re-opening?” Anatsa had to take her shot.
Maria put her forearm on the bar and leaned in conspiratorially.
“No, you can’t. And you didn’t hear it from me, but the City Council needed to be educated about Roswell’s dark history. The Emporium reopening is going to be about both the good and the bad of Roswell, come hell or high water.”
As Maria walked away, Anatsa settled in with her beer and internally debated staying until closing to see if Maria would tell her more.
The woman next to her was gossiping with her friend, and Anatsa kept her ears open while she sipped. She got halfway through the less-than-appetizing Coors before the conversation turned to something actually interesting. The women started talking about their outfits for the fundraising gala, and then they both name-dropped Maria.
“You know, Maria’s family member is going to be part of the history display. I hope they give us a preview of it tomorrow,” the woman said excitedly.
“Couldn’t we just ask her about it?”
The woman shook her head. “Oh no, she won’t say. I think she’s been sworn to secrecy.”
“Well I’m not surprised by that. Ann Evans loves to be dramatic and Isobel takes after her,” her friend said dismissively.
Anatsa felt her blood pressure rise, and she was very close to turning towards the women and telling them off for talking shit about Isobel.
“But at least Isobel knows how to plan an event,” the other woman said.
The woman nodded in agreement, and then the pair of them moved on to talk about other things. Anatsa took a deep breath and relaxed back onto her stool.
That at least confirmed that Maria and Isobel were involved.
Maria did not come back over to Anatsa’s part of the bar for the rest of the night, so she decided to leave. She chugged the rest of her beer just out of spite, because she didn’t want Maria to come collect her can and find it still full. Then she threw a 20 down on the bar and hurried out.
Once back at the hotel, she opened up her laptop and tried doing some more digging. She couldn’t find a family connection between Isobel and Maria, but she did find out that Maria’s mom Mimi, and grandma Patricia, had been local legends in Roswell. There were rumors that they were psychic. Anatsa had her doubts, but Maria did seem to have something special about her. And she’d seen enough of Roswell to know that weird things did occur there.
She rubbed her eyes, and leaned back in her chair. It was hitting her that she was definitely going to see Isobel tomorrow. She was going to look the woman she loved in the eye, and it was probably going to feel like Anatsa had become a stranger to her. If Maria’s icy attitude was anything to go by, Isobel was still angry. That definitely increased the odds that Isobel wouldn't want to hear anything Anatsa wanted to say.
Anatsa shivered and pulled a heavy blanket around her shoulders. Ever since the break up, she’d focused on staying as busy and distracted as possible. That seemed to mostly be working for her. Once she saw Isobel again, she worried that her whole facade would crumble.
When Anatsa arrived at the gala, the parking lot was already full. As she shut her car door, she scooped up the skirt of her long flowing orange gown to make sure it didn’t get caught. She was wearing the prettiest dress she owned, and that choice had been very much on purpose. She didn't want to risk getting her dress dirty before she even made it inside.
She crossed the street and walked up to the big adobe building where the gala was. Someone she didn’t know scanned her press ticket and welcomed her inside.
The hallway quickly opened up into a dining room that was resplendent in various soft shades of orange. It reminded her of the New Mexican dessert at sunset, which is probably why Isobel had chosen those colors. Anatsa was pleased that her dress didn't clash. Maybe with an orange dress, she'd blend right in.
The room was full of people dressed in their best, milling around and chatting. Most had champagne flutes in hand. She noticed Max up in the front of the room wearing a blazer and bolo tie. She wasn’t really in the mood for small talk, so she avoided him. She was going to grab a drink until she saw Liz and Maria over by the bar, so she headed for the back of the room instead.
She recognized a few other reporters she’d met while working in Roswell, gathered around a table. The table’s centerpiece was a lovely green succulent with a sign sticking out that said ‘Press.’ When she walked over, she noticed there were place cards for the various papers, but not for the ABQ journal. She figured she must have registered too late for a place card to be printed and decided not to take it personally. She had no problem standing in the back, anyway. That might make it easier to overhear conversations.
Just as she was getting comfortable leaning up against a wall, Isobel came out onstage and grabbed a microphone.
Anatsa couldn’t help the audible gasp that escaped her lips. Isobel was a vision. Anatsa was certain she’d never looked more beautiful.
Isobel was wearing a white pinstripe suit and jacket that seemed perfectly tailored for her. There was a thick white ascot tied around her neck, and she looked like she wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath the jacket because the bare skin of her chest glowed softly under the stage lights.
For a moment Anatsa forgot she was there on business. But as Isobel started talking, she quickly got her notebook out of her pocket.
“Good afternoon everyone, thank you for coming to our first ever Roswell Community Gala and Fundraiser,” Isobel said as she looked out at the crowd. “We are here to help create a museum that matters, a place that will represent us and showcase more than just our UFOS.”
There was a smattering of laughter, and Isobel grinned.
“Seriously though, the work that has already been done to make this place a reality has been astounding. And I’m so proud of Roswell for acknowledging and including not just our glorious history, but also some of our worst moments. This is a chance for us to commemorate those who suffered needlessly at Caulfield Prison, and promise that in the future, we can do better. I’m happy to be joined by many friends and family tonight to celebrate that future.”
Isobel smiled, and the crowd erupted in applause. Isobel's speech was definitely fit for print. Anatsa was furiously writing quotes verbatim.
Once the applause subsided, Isobel took up the mic again.
“The silent auction items are over on your right, my left. There is a plethora of gorgeous items donated by local artists, so please check that out. There’s also a photobooth, so don’t miss out on that. Please enjoy your dinner and thank you for your generosity.”
Isobel paused and waved at the crowd. Her hand faltered for a moment, and she seemed to meet Anatsa’s gaze. Anatsa froze with her pen pressed against her notepad, and her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t read Isobel from so far away, but she didn’t smile or move her face much at all, which only made the awkward scrutiny worse.
Then Isobel started walking off stage, and the moment was broken. People were chattering all around her as they eagerly took their seats, and waiters started bringing out dinner plates. But Anatsa wasn’t hungry. She had to see Isobel again, even if only for a moment. This might be her only chance to apologize.
She took off down the hall off of stage left, hoping Isobel was still lingering. When she rounded a corner, she was in luck.
“Isobel!” She called out.
Once Isobel turned around, Anatsa was thunderstruck for a moment. Words escaped her. Just saying “hi” seemed so stupid.
Isobel put a hand on her hip and sighed.
“Anatsa,” she said softly.
“So sorry to bother you. I just wanted to see you,” Anatsa said in a rush, her words jumbled on top of each other.
“Well now you have,” Isobel said. The corner of her mouth turned up into a cautious smile. “But I’ve really got to get back to the party.”
“Maybe we could talk later?”
Isobel cocked her head, considering her for a moment.
“When this is over. Off the record, though,” Isobel chided, her voice firm..
Anatsa eagerly agreed. “Of course. Brilliant speech, by the way.”
Isobel’s face broke into a genuine smile. “Thanks.”
She turned around, and Anatsa watched her go. Her stomach was churning from nervous butterflies, and she felt a little queasy. It reminded her of how she felt the first time they met.
Anatsa was still a goner for Isobel. Maybe she always would be.
---
Once Anatsa went back to the dining room, she tried to think about anything besides Isobel. She flipped open her notebook and looked through her notes. She had plenty for a puff piece about Roswell coming together to raise money for their community. But some more great quotes wouldn’t hurt. She started working the room with her press badge prominently displayed, and a few of Roswell’s finest socialites agreed to chat with her about why they were donating. She was also curious about Caulfield, but since she didn't have her laptop, she was going to have to hold off on looking it up.
By the time the winners from the silent auction were being called up to the stage and thanked, Anatsa was thanking her lucky stars the event was almost over. She was trying to plan what she wanted to say to Isobel in her head, and the loud voice over the mic was not helping her concentrate. She decided to step outside for some fresh air.
The sky was illuminated with warm pink and orange tones, and she was reminded of just how pretty Roswell could be. The sky seemed to go on forever, the view unobstructed by mountains or skyscrapers.
In the fading sunlight, Antasa could see a few people milling around just outside the doors. She walked out to the sidewalk, and then spotted Isobel hugging and waving goodbye to an older couple. Anatsa bit her lip and decided to head back inside before Isobel spotted her, because she didn’t want it to look like she was being pushy. She hadn’t meant to intrude on what seemed to be an intimate moment.
As she turned to leave, a red blur caught her eye. She watched in abject horror as a few things happened in rapid succession. The old woman stepped off the sidewalk and into the street just as a huge red truck hauled ass around the corner. It seemed inevitable that the woman was going to get hit.
Anatsa opened her mouth to scream, but miraculously, nothing happened.
It seemed as if something pulled the woman backwards, and deposited her right back onto the sidewalk. One moment the woman was in the street, and the next she wasn’t. Even the woman seemed surprised, judging by her wide-eyed expression.
The truck sped on by, oblivious to what almost happened.
The older gentleman was hugging the woman who had just cheated death, and Isobel was patting her back. She projected calm with her slight smile and comforting hand, but her gaze darted around, as if checking to see if anyone had been watching.
Anatsa looked around too, scrambling for an explanation. Then Isobel met her gaze, and her eyes went wide. She looked as if she’d been caught, her expression crestfallen and fearful.
That was ridiculous. Anatsa must have been misreading the situation. Isobel hadn’t caused that truck to come barreling around the corner, and she hadn’t pushed that woman into the street.
And yet, something or someone must have saved that woman. She hadn’t propelled herself backwards on her own. Anatsa would never have blamed magic in ordinary circumstances, but logic wasn’t providing an explanation for what she’d just seen.
Anatsa hurried back inside and went into the woman’s bathroom. She splashed water on her face, and tried to gather her wits.
Anatsa was spiraling, but she couldn’t help it. Superpowers? Magic? Telekinesis? Aliens? All of those ideas were completely nonsense. She gripped the sink and looked at herself in the mirror with an exasperated expression. Normally, she trusted herself and her own instincts. But maybe this was one of those phenomena she wasn’t going to be able to explain. She took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom, ready to chalk the whole thing up as a coincidence.
That was until Isobel found her in the hallway.
“How much did you see?” Isobel asked, her voice strained.
Anatsa’s eyes widened. “So there was something to see?”
“Let’s not do this here,” Isobel said as she grabbed Anatsa’s arm and pulled her into a coat closet.
After she shut the door, Isobel flicked on the light switch and turned to Anatsa. There was fear in her eyes, a fear of Anatsa, and that made Anatsa feel like the worst person on the planet. When she tried to reach for Isobel’s hand, Isobel flinched and pulled away.
Isobel’s mouth was pressed together in a thin line, and her shoulders were so tense they almost touched her ears. She looked the way she had when Anatsa had broken up with her, her whole body sunken in as if she was trying to protect herself. Anatsa's first instinct was to reassure her, or offer an explanation, but she stopped herself. She waited to hear what Isobel wanted to say.
“I have abilities.” Isobel said quietly. “I actually wanted to tell you this before, but.”
She left unsaid the part where Anatsa just walked away without listening last time.
“If it helps, I have regretted that decision every day since,” Anatsa said sincerely.
Isobel gave her a small, watery smile. “It does, actually.”
Then Isobel turned her palm face up, and a green coat from the rack behind Anatsa floated over and landed gently in Isobel’s hand.
Anatsa gasped, quite literally shocked into silence. It was absolutely incredible to see Isobel display her power so easily. It all seemed so organic. Isobel had barely moved and yet the coat had jumped up to do her bidding.
“I’m not… from here. There’s so much more to tell you. I want to trust you with this.” Isobel dropped the coat and leveled her gaze at Anatsa. “Please tell me I can trust you with this.”
Anatsa’s heart ached when she realized Isobel must have been carrying around this huge secret, deliberately hiding it from Anatsa because she thought she couldn’t trust her. This had to have been the reason Isobel was so guarded before. Even though she had a million questions, she held her tongue. At that moment, she just wanted to prove to Isobel that things could be different for them the second time around.
“You shouldn’t have to hide, especially not with me. You can trust me.” Anatsa reached out for Isobel’s hand and this time, Isobel let her.
Isobel sighed, and a smile slowly spread across her face. Anatsa squeezed her hand, her heart pounding in her chest as her gaze flicked down to Isobel’s mouth. Isobel had just saved a woman and confessed her deepest secret to her in a coat closet, and Anatsa was sure she’d never been more attracted to anyone in her life.
“And you’re a hero, babe,” Anatsa said with awe. “Let’s not forget that part.”
Isobel huffed out a laugh. “Wait until you hear the whole story.”
Anatsa wasn’t sure if she was allowed to, but she leaned in just a little closer, her body pulled towards Isobel of its own volition.
“I suppose you have to get back to the party,” Antasa said as she cocked her head.
Isobel bit her lip and made no move to leave. “Yeah, I should probably say goodbye to my esteemed guests.”
“Wouldn’t want anyone to come find you in a coat closet,” Anatsa drawled, dropping her voice low.
“Right,” Isobel agreed, tipping forward.
Anatsa couldn’t tell who actually started the kiss, but when her lips met Isobel’s, her heart soared. It was as if they’d never been apart, falling perfectly into sync as Anatsa put her hand on Isobel’s hip and breathed Isobel’s air.
“Come with me? After I kick everyone out of here?” Isobel whispered against Anatsa’s mouth.
“Of course,” Anatsa answered easily. “Anywhere.”
Then Anatsa leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed Isobel again. Anatsa’s toes curled in her shoes as Isobel licked into her mouth, and Anatsa tilted her head and gasped from the simple pleasure of Isobel’s tongue.
And then Isobel flashed a dazzling, dizzying smile before she turned to grab the door.
“Wait,” Anatsa called out, annoyed with herself for almost missing her chance to apologize. “I promise I’ll be a better listener. I’m sorry about walking away.”
Isobel paused, squinted her eyes, and put her hand on her hip. “You owe me. Maybe some wine? A nice dinner? A new outfit?”
“You drive a hard bargain.” Anatsa grinned, relief flooding through her. “But consider it done.”
Isobel leaned over and grabbed Anatsa’s chin so that she could pull her into a brief but commanding kiss.
“I’ll hold you to it,” Isobel said in Anatsa’s ear.
Her sultry voice was enough to make Anatsa’s whole body shiver.
Once Isobel left, Anatsa had to take a second just to catch her breath. After she gathered herself, she eagerly followed Isobel into a future she’d hardly thought possible the day before.
((the end))