Archive of Our Own

“I’m gonna be… late,” the girl said, pumping her legs as fast as they would allow her to go. It wasn’t long before she had to sit, panting.

Frustration was evident, but so was exhaustion. Just as her head lolled back against the bench, the books she had been holding fell onto the leafy grass. The noise sort of woke her up, but mostly it was another girl, who shook her awake.

“...--me’s Estela. And yours?”

“...Quinn.” It didn’t seem like she was having an easy go of it; panting became shallow, left hand started to develop tremors in her efforts to accept her books from Estela.

“Thank you. I’m… terribly sorry about all of this,” Quinn said, gesturing to where her books once were, then to herself.

“You were running somewhere pretty fast. Which class?”

Estela didn’t have the lay of the land just yet. She studied the blueprints Taylor gave her, but was a whole different beast when she stood between so many buildings. They were so… tall . Estela wasn’t used to it; her hometown was mountainous, with the exception of a few tourist-y attractions. Only the coconut trees took to the skies.

Quinn’s guilt seemed palpable at Estela’s concern. Why would a stranger care for someone like her? In the end, it’d be a waste of energy.

“Uhh,” Quinn uhh’d, craning her head to see the top book. “Econ 101. Woo and hoo!”

“Excited for this class?”

“Oh, not at all. I’ll shoot the prof an email right now explaining the situation,” she said, pulling out her phone, then muttering, “all of them know the situation, anyway.”

Estela smiled. Bait to latch onto.

“Situation?” Estela asked, trying oh-so-hard to be candid. Taylor did tell her that acting wasn’t her strong suit. “What do you mean?” Oh boy. Oh boy did Quinn look like she was caught in a lie. How bad Estela wanted to say “it’s okay Quinn, we were on this death-volcano created by an energy beam and this greedy CEO of Sucking Dicks and you were a jewel monster and saved our lives!”

Alas, she didn’t. Not this early at least.

Quinn looked around, as if to garnish a prop from the quad somewhere. “No, I gotta be honest with people,” she said to herself, doing her best to psych herself up. “I have a… condition. Well, a cluster of them, but they all point back to Rotterdam’s Syndrome.”

Estela nodded, jaw set. If only she wasn’t re-imbued with this disease, she wouldn’t have to suffer needlessly.

“It’s an… autoimmune disorder, so my body attacks itself at random times about random things.” Quinn put her books in her messenger bag as she explained. If she can’t explain Rotterdam’s to strangers, how could she come to peace with it, herself? Quinn had to understand that it had to become a normalcy of her life, because it was simply a part of it she couldn’t outrun.

As much as she tried.

“Quinn, is this disease dangerous?” Estela asked, knowing the answer. It was all she could do to watch Quinn -- who should be cured, by the way -- struggle to explain something she struggled to live with and struggled to accept.

Pinpricks of tears formed at her eyes and her nose started to redden. “I don’t really know you; I’d really rather not talk about it, sorry. Um. Thank you for helping me with my books.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed on ‘helping me’ and she stood up and made off to… somewhere.

“Shoot,” Estela ‘swore.’ She was trying not swear so much, but she did not much like her chosen loan words. Taylor laughed at her expense - often.

Speak of the devil.

“‘Stel, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear. Guess who I ran into,” Estela said, all grins, very unable to want to hold the news back.

“Mmm…” Taylor mimed guessing, then pointed at Estela. “Ooh! Ooh! A Catalyst!”

“I’m going to push you into a lake.”

“Hey… lakes are cold.”

Estela shivered just thinking about it. “Yeah, nevermind, I wouldn’t wish that on you.” Estela tapped her watch that Grace and Zahra did some scientifical magic to. “Guessing time…?”

“Over lunch?”

Estela’s stomach rumbled and she frowned.

“Fine.”
--

The two sat at their usual spot, which was surprisingly barren.

“Where is everybody?” Taylor asked, scrunching up her nose. Estela stole a fry.

“That… fricking horse-faced son of a mother’s goat better not have anything to do with this!” Estela yelled, then looked at Taylor as if to say ‘ how’d I do?! ’

“Damn. I’d say you deserve two more fries.”

Estela hoo-rah’d into the air and claimed her prize, not-so-stealthily dipping them in her wife’s shake.

Taylor leaned forward, which was cue for Catalyst Talk. Estela leaned forward, as well, having the watchspot in case others came by.

“So, Quinn.”

Estela’s lips formed a tight line and she nodded, once. She dropped the fries on Taylor’s tray, no longer hungry.

“Uh oh.”

“Uh oh is right . You know I’m not too good with medical things…”

“I have some scars that’d say differently!” Taylor argued, frowning.

Estela ignored her. “...But she looked bad, Taylor. I don’t know how much longer we have; I don’t know anything about autoimmune stuff.”

Taylor scrunched her face in concentration. “It could really be a ‘roll the dice’ for symptoms, but usually weakness and fatigue, probably pain, shaking, migraines, nausea? That kind of thing but just constantly ?”

Estela shook her head. “We need Michelle.”

“Hold up,” Taylor stood up, holding onto her wife’s forearm. “Do you think Michelle can single-handedly cure Rotterdam’s?!” She gaped at her wife, who only gave a smug smirk back.

“She brought you back from the knife’s edge, didn’t she?”

Taylor waved her off. “We were on an impossible island with impossible medicine and impossible circumstances.”

“It comes in threes…”

“What, now?”

“Just something abuela used to say. She was really religious and superstitious, so when anything bad’d happen, she’d say it happened in threes, and to be careful.”

“Were you careful?”

“No. I was a kid!”

“Either way, we need to brainstorm with the crew. Maybe… we can find a way to - I don’t know - slow it? If she’s as bad as you say…” Taylor stood up and took care of her tray.

“I agree that’s priority one, but…. how?”