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Alana - Present
“I don’t.” Will says. “She’s an agent over at the BAU. Beverly Katz,” Alana types the name into her phone. It sounds vaguely familiar but, then, she's met her fair share of conduits. "Luminescence conduit. Manifest.”
“A friend?” Alana smiles lightly.
Will pauses. “Yes. She’ll get along with Abigail.” He says. “I think she needs someone like her. Not that you’re lacking, or anything,” He blushes and Alana takes pity on him, laughing.
“It’s fine, Will, I know what you mean. If there’s anything this week alone with Abigail has taught me it’s that we’re not exactly,” she grimaces, “compatible. Personality-wise. She’s lovely to talk to but she’s like the unruly teenager I never wanted. I could probably teach her some control exercises if I wanted to go bald a few years early.”
“You, bald?” Will smiles. “At the most I’m seeing a classic streak of gray.”
“Is that your read?” She chuckles and he shrugs helplessly. He's turning to leave when he suddenly looks back at her, eyebrows drawn together.
“You’re worried about something?”
“You are reading me!” She slaps his arm lightly with a little noise of shock. She knew Will's policy on reading his co-workers, though she wasn't sure he counted her, in that respect. It’s not as though he could switch it off, but she still felt a little violated. This, she reasons, is why she continues to insist upon training for him. It may help his headaches, at least.
“I can’t help it, Alana.” Will is rubbing his arm and she rolls her eyes. “You put out bad moods like a lamppost. Most people do, to be fair, though it’s rare for a natural. Your moods are just more expressive. Maybe it’s an oil thing?”
“Good thing I avoided being alone with you for so long, then.” She teases.
“You were doing that? Don’t do that.” Will shakes his head. “Beverly’s the same way when she’s excited or happy.”
“Oil and light,” Alana grins a little at that. “That must be a sight.”
Beverly - Past
Beverly jumps from her chair. She's no champion at beer pong, but the guys probably just like to see her ass when she bends over so they keep calling her over to play. The third time she misses and pulls herself up by the side of the table, she catches the eye of the red-head across the room who's wearing a tank top with a tiger face on it and too-tight, just right jeans. Beverly winks playfully and the girl raises her beer in response.
She spends the rest of the evening alternating between refilling her beer at the keg and standing within hearing range of Tiger Shirt.
By the time one o'clock rolls around, Tiger Shirt hasn't done more than nod along to the music blaring through the house speakers and Beverly's ready to leave. Downing the rest of her drink she tosses the cup into the trash and leaves the house, whistling quietly.
"Hey!" Someone shouts behind her and she turns to see Tiger Shirt trailing behind her, throwing on a bright pink jacket and straightening out her unruly locks. She's smiling widely and her red hair clashes hideously with the jacket but Beverly thinks she's even prettier away from the crowd, hands in her pockets and rocking back on her heels. "Were you just going to look at me all night?"
"The party was lame." Beverly shrugs. "Pretty things distract me."
"Well, as you can see," she sidles up to her and tilts her head, "I can talk too."
"You're quite the talent." Beverly teases back and the girls laughs.
"I'm Heather." She holds out her hand and Beverly takes it, surprised and a little delighted at the sudden formality.
"Beverly. Beverly Katz."
"So," Heather leans back on her heels again and blushes quite fetchingly, "mine or yours?"
Alana - Past
"Maybe I shouldn't have gone into conduit counseling." Alana sighs, tying the apron around her back. "This could get incredibly personal for someone like me."
"Nonsense." Hannibal scolds. "As I recall, you were a model student and you knew exactly what you wanted. It's a bit late to second guess that now."
"Says the former surgeon." She rolls her eyes and he chuckles. "My mom's side, if you were wondering."
"I wasn't." Hannibal nods at her. "But thank you for sharing."
"You couldn't say a bad word about me and mom to dad and he didn't have a spit of power in him. Oh, thank you," she takes a bowl and whisk that's offered and begins to stir, "So sometimes I see these cases and I just wonder how people get so mixed up, you know?"
"It is a wonder." Hannibal sighs. "And also why we need women like you to stay in your chosen profession."
Alana sets down her bowl and raises her beer, instead, grinning cheekily. "To women like me."
Beverly - Past
"Oh," Heather pulls away with a laugh and goes under the sink for a replacement light, "I thought we just replaced that. Funny little thing,"
Beverly ignores her, examining the tiny ball of light in her hand. Her stomach drops.
"Beverly?" Heather's voice is concerned and Beverly quickly covers one palm with the other. "Are you okay? You look,"
Whatever she was going to say is smothered by twin gasps as the light above them blinks out of existence. A trail of brightness and dust races into Beverly's hand and she feels a flash of warmth in her palms.
"What was that?" Heather is the first to speak.
"I dont," Beverly looks at her hands, palms spread out and up and glowing with a yellow light, "I don't,"
"Beverly, what was that?"
"I think I'm," Beverly swallows and fights down the words. Like if she doesn't say it, it won't be true. If she doesn't look at Heather, maybe she won't know.
"Should we call someone?" Heather whispers, frightened. Beverly can't look away from her hands.
"Who the hell do I call?"
Beverly - Present
“I’m inviting Alana.” She nods once, grabbing her own phone and sliding out of the booth. She covers the receiver with her hand. “You should call Hannibal! Might loosen you up a bit. Keep us from talking about politics."
"Hello?" Alana's voice cuts over her own and she removes her hand from the receiver.
"Oh, hey! Alana Bloom?"
"This is she."
"Katz, Beverly Katz!” She corrects, quickly. "We met yesterday, remember? About training Abigail?"
"Yes, of course I remember." Alana's laugh sounds through the phone. It doesn't tinkle or chime or whatever else laughs on pretty girls are supposed to do. It's deep and happy and Beverly likes it.
"Right." Beverly says. She wants to ask if Alana remembers her from before yesterday, but it's been years and she's grown her hair out and she never really told the woman her first name, did she and, oh man, isn't that embarrassing to think of now because dammit is she pretty. So, instead she demands, "Tell me you're not busy. I am surrounded by lecherous men and need the warm, dulcet tones of a woman to calm my inner child."
Alana laughs again and Beverly thinks that might be enough.
Beverly - Past
"You can't," Beverly scoffs, "you can't deal with this? I'm sorry are we in an alternate universe where you suddenly woke up with," Heather's eyes widen and she lowers her voice to hiss, "fucking superpowers?"
"No," Heather gathers herself, standing ramrod straight, "I woke up and my girlfriend was depressed and kind of an asshole and just," she struggles, "you're not you, Bev!"
"What the hell do you want from me?" Beverly shouts. "I literally changed, overnight!"
"That's right!" Heather points at her. "You changed! I didn't," she takes in a breath and then another and she can't breath and Beverly rushes to the kitchen counter to grab Heather’s inhaler. When she can breath again she continues. "I just can't, Beverly."
Beverly looks at her, long and hard. She looks as wrecked as Beverly feels. Beverly throws her inhaler at her suitcases and it bounces off, somewhat pathetically. "Fine. Whatever."
Maybe Heather wants her to fight more, but all of Beverly's energy has been expended and she refuses to watch her walk out of the door. She hears the suitcases lift and the door open and then the room is empty.
She finally lets herself cry, sucking the light from the room, encasing herself within it like a blanket. When she's cried so hard she can barely open her eyes and the light has faded, outside and in, she lays on the floor and falls asleep for a while.
The next week she signs up for training.
Alana - Past
"Are you all right?" Alana asks when she turns back. The woman is still there, but she looks petulant, rather than sad.
"I don't know." She laughs, a little broken sound.
"I'm a counselor, here." Alana explains. "For conduits, mostly, but if there's anything I can do to help,"
The woman's eyes seem to light up and, before that moment, Alana thought it was just an expression. "My, my girlfriend. I manifested and she's, well, she left, obviously." When she bites her lip, she seems more girl-like and Alana wonders if she's even out of college, yet. "If you fix me, will that get us back to the way we were?"
"I'm not a couple's counselor." Alana replies quietly, sitting down on the stairs beside the woman or girl, maybe. "I'm not an expert on relationships, myself, but a word of advice from a natural?"
"Shoot." She sniffs, running her hands through her hair.
"There's nothing to fix." She says, something she's had to repeat too often, she thinks. "And this isn't going to stop. What she did to you was one hundred percent wrong, but it was also one hundred percent her fault."
"She wants," the woman beside her takes a great shuddering breath, "a better life."
"What she wants is an easier life." Alana corrects gently. "And when she realized the person she loved wasn't given that option, she walked away. Even if you wake up tomorrow with no powers, which will not happen and I'm sorry about that, I truly am, because it can sometimes be so hard to live in this world being what we are," she grabs her hand, "but even if you weren't and she walked back in your door tomorrow, she was still the one who left you."
The woman looks at their joined hands and raises a brow. "You're not a couple's counselor?" Alana pulls back with no small amount of red on her cheeks.
"I help conduits deal with their powers." Alana explains. "I could help you, if you'd like."
"I'm just here for a job placement application." She shakes her head. "Such a joke."
"Not so much." Alana smiles, crossing her arms. Therapy is good, but working is better. Training and work provide stability that some of her patients won't even consider. She's glad this girl has. "I know a few people if you ever want a recommendation, Ms?"
"Katz." They stand together and shake hands, briefly. She doesn't offer her first name and Alana doesn't pry. "Thanks, but I think you've helped enough today."
"Well, you know where my office is." Alana points over her shoulder. "Oh, um, I'm Doctor Bloom, by the way. It's, um, on the tag."
"I saw." Katz smiles teasingly and Alana coughs, looking away.
"Well, I'm sure you'll do a great job, wherever they place you." Alana smiles and turns to leave. "Good luck, Katz."
"I don't think you're right." Katz says and Alana turns back. "I get it. Be yourself, you can't help what you are, blah, blah, blah. We learned all that in training. But when we started dating, I wasn't," she looks down, "this."
"Nobody stays the same as they are when they start dating." Alana laughs, disbelievingly. "Relationships are called life-changes for a reason."
"Jesus, Bloom, did you read that off the brochure of Christian Mingle?"
Alana shrugs, walking away. "Not a couple's counselor!"
"You said anything you could do to help." Beverly crosses her arms, calling after her. "You're supposed to be a doctor! Don't offer help if you can't pay up! I don't accept excuses, Bloom!"
"Maybe I'm not a doctor, at all! Maybe I'm just weak to pretty girls crying in my staircase." Alana laughs loudly.
She's happy to hear the other laugh behind her.
Alana - Present
"Sorry, I'm not a couple's counselor!" Alana calls back. Beverly snaps up to look at her and she can't help but wink.
Alana hums to herself and thinks Beverly blushes quite fetchingly.