Work Text:
Ingrid stands in the elevator alone and walks down the corridor alone and goes into her room alone and when she shuts the door behind her and turns around, she's scared out of her own skin by the sight of someone else's clothes in her room. A pink kimono, carefully folded on Ingrid's bed.
She remembers their last conversation before Jean died - Toshiko unusually afraid, and Ingrid cheering her up.
"I believe in us," she had said, "and I believe in everybody else. Nobody's going to murder you on my watch - or anybody else, you hear?"
And Toshiko had smiled at her when they'd left to go bake the pie. As if she had believed in her, as if she wasn't lying to her face all this while. How long was she planning this? When she stole the cyanide a week ago, was she thinking of framing Ingrid this whole time? Was their friendship really so dispensable to her? Did Toshiko ever trust her?
Ingrid can't stop looking at the kimono on the bed. She wants to throw it out and she wants to hold it close to her and she wants to burn it and she wants to cry, cry and cry forever and never stop.
She does none of those things. Ingrid curls up on her bed, ignoring the kimono completely. Waiting for sleep that never comes.