Work Text:
Day 1.
Blood.
That was what Ema saw when she pulled her underwear down this morning, blood staining the inside of her Hello Kitty panties.
She knew what this meant, of course, she loved science!
But this was a part of science she wasn’t particularly keen on experiencing herself.
She rips open a pad for the first time and tucks the wings over; she couldn’t be bothered to change, her clothes would just be stained again. She exits the bathroom and enters their room. Lana couldn’t afford much on a detective’s salary, so they lived in a one-bedroom apartment close to the precinct, and they owned little more than what they needed to survive.
“Everything okay?” Lana asks, rolling over to face Ema.
“I got my first period,” Ema responds. She watches something flash over Lana’s face, a myriad of emotions coming into play, and then she smiles.
“You’re a woman now.” She says, wrapping an arm around Ema’s middle. “It’s not all they make it out to be.” She says, placing a kiss on Ema’s forehead.
Ema had no clue what womanhood could possibly entail. She had only ever had perfect women in her life, between Lana and Franziska; could she really call them realistic examples? Girlhood was simple, easy. And what about a period that made things so different, anyway? Scientifically speaking, she knew the answer, but society never seemed to care about science any other time, so why was menstruation such a big deal? She went to sleep the night before with a slight stomachache, and she woke up with blood in her panties.
What a cruel joke.
“Does it hurt?” Ema asks. From what she’d heard from Franziska, who had gotten her period the month prior (which, apparently, was extremely embarrassing and an entire ordeal for the von Karma household. It turns out the girl hadn’t known about periods until she had the unfortunate experience of blood staining her white pants), that her periods were a pain so unbearable she couldn’t move the entire week.
“Sometimes. You get used to it. Plus, if you find yourself a nice man, you can get him to pamper you.” She says, winking. “Don’t worry about it, the first week is hardly a good example of how your monthly cycle will be.”
Ema sighs. She lets the weight of Lana’s arm bring her comfort. She didn’t mind that they didn’t have much; they didn’t need anything else. They had each other; what more could she ask for?
Day 2.
Franziska’s god is a complete and total joke. What kind of divine excuse could there be for this much pain ?
Ema should be at school, attending her first block math class, but instead, she was at home, curled up in bed with a heating pad.
“I don’t think I will ever get used to this.” She says. Lana tucks her hair behind her ears, running a hand through it.
“Are you going to be alright while I’m at work?” She asks, biting the pad of her thumb. “I can ask Detective Gant for the day off. I’m sure he’s got things covered…”
“I’m fine, Lana. I’m not going to die. Besides, I’m sure you want to see Detective Starr.” Ema says, her voice laced with innuendo.
Lana slaps the back of her head. “We have a working relationship, I’ll have you know.” She sighs. “Okay. I’m only a phone call away if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions.”
“I won’t. Good luck, have fun with Ms. Starr.” Ema calls as Lana leaves.
Ema lies in bed for the rest of the day. Her stomach hurt, her back hurt, she was hot, and she felt so exhausted . She asked Franziska if she also felt this way, but apparently, she was alone with that symptom.
She didn’t understand how something every woman went through could be so different from person to person. How could something meant to bring girls together feel so isolating?
She was thinking too much. She needed to go back to sleep; maybe her stomach would feel better by then.
Day 3.
Ema was skipping school again today; she didn’t feel like going through the embarrassment of bleeding through her pad in front of little boys, and she didn’t think she could focus with this pain. Lana had told her she never got cramps this bad.
Ema was just unlucky.
Lana didn’t like Ema being home alone; she liked to know she was safe, so the trade-off for skipping school two days in a row was going to work with Lana.
“You have to be quiet,” Lana says. “Detective Gant and Prosecutor Marshall are interrogating Darke today. Things are tense in the group, not even Detective Starr could get much out of him.”
“Detective Skye,” The guard greets as they walk in.
Lana was swept up in conversation as soon as they arrived, and Ema made herself at home in her office. It was quite grand, although it was clear most of the decoration was put in place by Gant rather than Lana.
With nothing to do and no one to talk to, Ema did little more than sleep and catch up on homework using Lana’s work computer. By the time night fell, it had begun to rain.
Ema hears the door open and looks up, expecting to see Lana.
She was instead greeted by a scary-looking man approaching her rapidly.
“He’s in here!” She hears a voice call out, and suddenly, Prosecutor Marshall is on top of him.
Thunder booms outside, shaking the building, and the power goes out. Lightning strikes, and upon seeing a knife raise, she pushes the perpetrator.
Ema doesn’t know what really happens after that.
Day 4.
“Lana?” Ema calls. Last she remembered, she was in Lana’s office, but now she was at home in their bed.
“You’re awake.” She says, handing Ema a glass of water. Something about her seemed different; it felt like something in the way she held herself had changed.
“Is everything okay?” Ema asks.
Lana looks away. She sits on the edge of the bed opposite Ema so she couldn’t see her face. She suddenly felt worlds away from her. “...Prosecutor Neil Marshall has been killed.”
Ema recalls the events from the night prior, and she freezes. She was the last person to see him alive, wasn’t she? “Did I…?”
“No.” Lana answers, too quickly. “No. It was Joe Darke, we’re sure of it. We already have a prosecutor taking everything over, now it’s only a matter of time.” She says. She was slipping out of her work clothes now, getting ready for bed.
Ema nods. She felt bad for Lana, maybe that was the cause of this distance, she was just grieving. The prosecutor and her had been good friends, after all.
It felt like her period was mocking her, now. Was it supposed to hurt this bad? Was it normal to bleed this much?
Her textbooks couldn’t answer these questions. Menstruation was seen as such a taboo topic, could this much really be true? Was it something to feel guilty about?
Asking these questions now felt impossible. Lana was already too far gone, too far away. She was on the opposite side of the bed, worlds apart from Ema.
This week had started with loving arms wrapped around her, and now those same arms were pushing her far, far away.
And there was nothing she could do.