Work Text:
Imogen was having the worst day.
When she had gone to take a shower, she discovered her hot water heater was broken, and in addition to taking a cold shower, her landlord left her on hold long enough that she had to hang up. She'd been almost out the door when the sole of her converse split; it was her favorite pair. She didn’t have time to mourn, just to change and rush to the restaurant where she was supposed to meet Fearne for brunch.
Thirty minutes past the time they were meant to meet, Fearne blew up her phone.
help
i’m trapped
i locked my door and now it won’t open
i’m trapped inside
Imogen sighed. She decided against questioning how Fearne could lock herself inside her apartment and left, leaving a tip on the table for lingering. It was colder than she had anticipated, her jeans and t-shirt just weren’t cutting it. She cranked up the heat in her car, turned it back off when cold air blew out instead, and drove off.
The apartment complex Fearne and Ashton lived in was old. They frequently had things break and she was sure there was a family of rats in their walls that just kept expanding, and it haunted Imogen’s sleep every time she stayed in the spare bedroom. Shuddering, she parked and hung her visitor badge on her rearview mirror. Ashton’s car wasn’t in the lot, which meant Fearne hadn’t actually had a ride to the restaurant in the first place. She shook her head.
Their apartment was on the third floor, and the stairwell’s light flickered, leaving her in darkness half her climb. She didn’t question whatever mystery liquid she stepped in on the way up. The door had the number 66 on it even though there was nowhere near sixty-six apartments in the building, and Fearne or Ashton had flipped the second number upside down. She still remembered how Fearne snickered when Imogen first visited after the craft, as if she expected it to be the funniest thing Imogen had ever seen.
She knocked. “Fearne?”
“Imogen, my savior! Unlock the door!” Her voice was muffled, a bit too excited for someone who was trapped.
“Fearne,” Imogen called, “Did you try turning the lock?”
“Don’t be silly, Imogen, that’s what got me here in the first place. It won’t turn back. Do you have your key?”
“No, Ashton took it because they claimed I was ‘abusing my power.’” Imogen rolled her eyes at the memory.
“Pick it!” Fearne banged on the door, “I know you’ve got a pin in those gorgeous curls.”
Imogen sighed and felt around, indeed producing a pin she didn’t remember putting in that morning. She stretched it out and pushed it into the knob, mumbling, “Here goes nothing.”
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Fearne asked, and no, Imogen absolutely did not, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
“Shush, I need to concentrate.” Imogen would give credit where it was due, Fearne did stay surprisingly quiet after that. Though, she probably wandered off.
Curses flew out of Imogen left and right as her hand jerked, or the pin didn’t move where she needed it. She brushed lavender strands from her eyes and sat up on her knees, as if getting within centimeters of the lock would help in any way.
“Should I call the police, or the property owner?”
“Shit!” Imogen jumped, the pin breaking inside the lock. She whipped around to face the source of the wary voice.
Imogen was nothing if not perceptive. That was the reason she noticed the woman’s sharp, nearly gaunt, features, black eyes framed by dark hair and tentative grin. The only reason. It took her a moment to find a response. “Neither, if you know how to pick locks?”
Imogen realized how that may have come across. “I, uh, I’m not robbing the place. I only do that when Ashton makes chicken noodle soup.” Get to the point, Imogen. “Fearne locked herself in. Yes, in. I’m not really sure how she managed but it won’t open from the inside.”
“You know,” the woman kneeled beside Imogen and she staggered to the side. She held out her hand expectantly, and Imogen pulled another pin from her hair (where were they coming from?) and placed it in her palm. She got to work, dexterous and skilled. “It isn’t the first time this has happened to someone in this building. I swear these locks pre-date the asteroid.”
Imogen watched as she swiftly twisted and shifted the pin until a firm click resonated in the hall, and the door creaked open. Imogen opened her mouth to thank the woman, but Fearne rushed out in a blur, knocking both of them over.
“I’m free!”
Imogen snorted as she sat back up, finding the other woman doing the same. Fearne was probably long gone by now. Imogen patted her pockets to ensure her keys were still there. They weren’t.
“Well shit, I gotta go. She’s gonna wreck my car. Thanks for your help.” Imogen never knew what to do with greetings, so she opted to stick her hand out, which she immediately regretted.
Nevertheless, the woman shook her hand and gave her a smile that seemed practiced. “Of course. Just tell your friend to shout if she needs help again. I’m her new neighbor, Laudna.”
She didn’t have time to respond before her phone lit up, messages from Fearne telling her that she was going to leave without her, and Imogen muttered a few curses before rushing to get to her car.