Chapter Text
9:58am
“So… is there anything bothering you?”
Wraith’s finger twitched against the trigger, and she let out a questioning hum as she looked Elliott’s way. Save for the gunfire, he’d broken the companionable silence that had settled between them since arriving at the firing range that morning.
Without looking away from him, Wraith fired, and the target simulated the splitting crack of a helmet. Outwardly, she was calm. Even as Elliott looked between her and the target, red amongst a crowd of blue, in awe.
Shaking the expression from his face, he turned back to his own target. “Well, y’know, I can tell something’s on your mind.” As he spoke, he squared his shoulders and hit the target once, twice.
“Oh yeah?” she asked, only because she knew it’d buy her some time. Time would run out, though. Wraith would eventually have to come clean. She liked to think she had mastered the art of giving nothing away, but damn him. Damn the way he could always fall into step with her, no matter where her mind wandered. And that was why he’d suggested a morning range session. If there was ever two people who weren’t good at the serious talk, for polar-opposite reasons, sure, but… “How’s that?”
Talking with a calming distraction seemed to work best for both of them. And if you're a veteran Apex Legend, firing at targets that couldn't shoot back was the perfect calming distraction.
“Uh, well, you’ve been quiet.”
She fired once more, and heard the hollow click of the chamber. “I’m always quiet,” Wraith retorted, discarding the empty magazine.
“It’s a different quiet!” He was smiling at her now—a cut the shit, I’m trying here smile. “You know what I mean, c’mon.”
Maybe Wraith missed the days, all those years ago, when Elliott Witt was afraid of her. When did he get the courage? Or maybe, rather, when had she gone soft? She huffed, but said nothing as she emptied her next magazine into the heart of each target. At least that came second nature to her. When she was done, he was still watching her expectantly.
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
He cocked his head to the side.
“I’ve been thinking about what it’d be like to go back. To where I came from.”
Elliott’s eyes went wide. “Uh… y-you mean, like, Typhon? That’s-“
“It’s a pile of rocks now,” she interjected, “I know. I’m not talking about Typhon.”
“Then…?”
She dropped the rifle into the weapons cache and selected a set of throwing knives. Still needed the distraction, just something less noisy. “You know I don’t come from this world.”
“Right,” he said, recognition colouring his tone, “you played swapsies with some other you. Why haven’t you already, though? Gone back, that is… wouldn’t that be the first place you’d check for info?”
“It’s not that simple,” the tail end of her words were laboured as she flung a knife at a target. “Moving between dimensions is dangerous. You can lose your way back. You can mess with the whole… ecosystem… in a catastrophic way.” With the talking ball rolling, she turned to face him. He was sitting on the metal platform with his back against the opposite cache, knees drawn to his chest. He looked for all the world like getting up early to go shoot at stuff was never his true agenda. “That timeline belongs to me, but I don’t know if the version of myself that freed me is still there.”
“Two Wraith’s in the same place not good?”
Wraith shrugged, sinking down across from him. The late-spring sun had risen over the cliffs across the water, and it now fell in slivers over the two of them. “It’s an unknown. Maybe we got lucky when I escaped, that something bad didn’t happen. And… I might come from that dimension, but this is my home now.”
Elliott’s face turned unreadable. “And now you wanna go back?”
“That Wraith was looking for something,” she said, “I don’t think she found it there. And I don’t think she was looking for a dimension to settle down in, either. I just…”
She paused, not knowing how to articulate her thoughts. But sometimes, she’d walk into a place and feel like she’s been there before. Like something deep inside her feels the pull of familiarity, but she always lacked the ability to connect that familiarity to anything. For years she thought it was deja vu, or that it wasn’t something she herself was feeling, but rather a different Wraith channeling it through her.
Rationally, she knew they couldn’t make each other feel things. Her connection with the others was tethered by whispers, by thoughts. And she eventually accepted that the feelings of familiarity were her own, no matter how much the allowance scared her.
When she met Elliott’s gaze, his fingers were laced together around his knees. He looked at her intently, patiently. “Just what?”
“I’m curious, is all.”
It was a hell of a reason for tearing through time and space. It was a hell of a reason to risk it all. There was a difference between allowing the Void to swallow you and spit you out within the same reality, and using it as a vessel to carry you into a different one.
Then, Elliott’s eyes fell to his lap, his voice tinged with an emotion she couldn’t place. “If you go… will you come back?”
Oh. Vulnerability. That trademark Elliott shyness that didn’t exist anywhere but in private. That always made her heart feel like it was growing three times its size in a split second.
She hated it and she needed it.
“Only because I don’t want to have to look for another job over there.”
At that, Elliott barked a surprised laugh. “Very funny…”
“You think?” she replied, mostly rhetorically, as she stood. Closing the space between them, she offered him a hand, and hauled him up. As Elliott stood over her, their hands remained clasped together between their chests. This close, she saw the glint in his eyes immediately.
“What.”
A pout fought a losing battle against a smile. “Just, y’know, wondering if there might be… might be anything else keeping you here…”
At that, Wraith shook her head at him, rolling her eyes as she gripped his hand tighter and pulled him down to kiss him. “Maybe.”
april 25, 2738
11:32am
Originally, she never intended to visit the Paradise Lounge.
From the moment she first stepped inside, all those years ago, she felt that inexplicable, nagging pull. But she was dead against entertaining any thoughts regarding why. She’d been burned bad by assumption before, and she’d rather never know the truth than walk herself into another painful dead end. The only information she’d ever allowed herself to believe were the cold, hard facts.
Documents, files, video, audio.
But the rest of her journey so far had turned up blank. Kings Canyon Peninsula was abandoned long ago, reclaimed by nature. No Games, no Thunderdome. In this world, it’s described merely as a ‘former research outpost’.
If nothing else, reading that made her laugh.
She did live here, though. Once upon a time. The address from her records still belonged to an apartment complex, but someone else lived there now. Searching her name bore few results. Which made sense, considering she worked on a botched secret project that needed to be covered up as well as possible.
The whole thing was uneventful—she had a feeling it would be. And the longer she spent here, the more anxious she felt about getting back. At the very least, she hoped to feel different, just by being here. She hoped that, on some subconscious level, it would feel right, like finding the missing piece of a puzzle and slotting it back into place. No dice.
But in spite of that anxiety, something in the back of her mind kept telling her that she wasn’t finished here just yet. And as she stepped out of the public library, she found herself wandering deeper into the city.
It wasn’t all that exciting, she supposed. The buildings were mostly the same, but some of the storefronts were different. Back home, Solace City was more like Apex Games City — it took up every billboard, signs outside every bar advertised live viewings of matches; street vendors selling knock-off merch and Legend-themed food and drink. The supreme lack of the Games’ presence here was the starkest difference. That, and the fact she could roam freely through the streets without drawing lots of unwanted attention.
It then occured to her that, since this was her home-timeline, someone could still very well recognise her. And while that’d be something, she kept her head down.
She didn’t realise she’d been making her way towards the Lounge until she looked up and saw it at the end of the street. In this world, it somehow managed to look even more dilapidated than she was used to. Some of the lettering on the neon sign flickered, sending sparks flying, and a few of the windows had boards in place of glass.
Wraith didn’t really know what she planned to do when she got there, or even why she was going there in the first place. But… if she thought about it, the Paradise Lounge was one of the only places in the city that she frequented.
And if she really thought about it, she just wanted to see if Elliott was here in this world.
She lived here, at least as a working adult. She worked in a lab on the peninsula. Had they ever passed each other by on the street? Had she ever stopped in for a drink after work?
Soon, she was standing at the threshold. A knot of anticipation wound tight in her stomach. For all she knew, this version of the Lounge wasn’t even run by Elliott. It might not even be in the Witt name.
She pushed the doors open.
Seeing him was more surreal than she thought it would be. She’d been with him—her Elliott—just a few hours ago. His presentation was one thing he seriously prided himself on; always looking clean-cut and ready for the cameras. Well dressed, well groomed, good posture. Smiling, laughing, the works.
But this was a man she hardly recognised. A full head of messy curls, an unkempt beard, and glasses sliding down his nose. He was thinner, the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced, his clothes too big and hanging uncharacteristically off his shoulders.
Even so, Wraith felt that rush of recognition. Free-falling right to the pit of her stomach as she stood frozen in place at the Paradise Lounge’s entrance, stronger than she’d ever felt it before as she watched him, unaware of her presence, working behind the bar.
Just go up and order a drink. Don’t be weird, or say his name or anything like that. Act cool.
She repeated that in her head like a mantra as she strode farther inside. There were other patrons, but they all seemed settled where they were. She caught Elliott’s attention quickly enough, her stomach twisting as they made eye contact.
What she didn’t expect was for Not-Elliott’s jaw to hit the floor, as well as the glass he was holding.
“Renee?”
Her name—her first name—escaped him like a long-unanswered question as the glass shattered on the floor. The chatter around them stopped, and she didn’t have to look at the other patrons to know all eyes were on them. But she didn’t even have the inclination to feel the discomfort of it—not when this Elliott Witt seemed to be experiencing all five stages of grief as he gaped at her.
What, exactly, had she gotten herself into?
“Elliott…” She didn’t know why she said his name back. He used hers, though, and perhaps on some level it felt right, but not when followed with, “Do we know each other?”
Elliott opened his mouth to speak, before his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His head fell back, and with it went his whole body as he crashed into the shelving behind him, knocking a bottle of liquor to the floor as he slumped down with it.
Crap. This wasn’t exactly an outcome she anticipated.
But even so, her instincts kicked into gear. Elliott was hurt; out cold in a pool of broken glass and alcohol. This was Solace City, so most patrons go back to minding their business. But others who sat at the bar, who likely knew Elliott in this world, leaned over to get a look at him, wondering if they should do something. Some looked to Wraith questioningly.
Right. She’d caused this mess. Time to do what she did best back home when things got hairy in the Lounge.
“Alright,” she rasped, before clearing her throat and scaling the bar to stand on the counter. She faced the other patrons and crossed her arms over her chest. “Alright, bar’s closed, so clear out. Now.”
“Like hell!” Shouted someone from the back.
Wraith settled a steely gaze on them. As she did, she raised her open palm next to her face, and curled it slowly into a fist, channeling all her energy into the motion. Cold blue sparks of the Void coiled around her wrist, and she felt the familiar iciness of her eyes clouding over.
“I said,” she repeated, slow and dark, “get. Out.”
In seconds, the room was filled with the sounds of profanity and chairs scraping against the floor. When everyone was gone, she turned her attention back to Elliott, who was coming to. She carefully dropped to the ground on the other side of the bar, kneeling next to him.
“Hey, let’s get you out of this mess,” she said gently, reaching to grab his arm. He glanced blearily at her, and she felt him go tense under her touch.
“W-wasn’t a dream…”
He jerked his arm away, looking once again like he was about to say something, before he winced and touched the back of his head. His fingers came away bloody.
“Look, I know you’re confused. Frankly, I am too…” She grabbed his arm again, despite the way he at first shrank away from her, and began hoisting him up. “But you’re bleeding. We’re gonna get you cleaned up, then we’ll talk. Deal?”
1:47pm
She offered to help with the wound once they got upstairs, but he said he was okay to deal with it himself. Which, honestly, Wraith was glad for, because she regretted it as soon as it left her mouth. And so, sitting on the old, plump couch in the loft’s living room, Wraith attempted to wrap her head around what just happened while Elliott fixed himself up in the next room.
All she could think about was the look on his face when he first saw her. All she could think about was the intensity in his eyes. She’d never, ever, seen her Elliott look that way before—not in any of the hundreds of games they’d competed in; not on his Mom’s worst days. Not even moments before death.
She could identify it. She could understand what it was. It was the why that got her. Why did he look at her like that? What had he seen? What had she done to him?
For a moment, however brief, she considered that it wasn’t her that he knew. Another version of her, passing through this world. She considered that she’d gotten it wrong—that she had traveled back to the wrong timeline.
No, came a Voice, you know you’re in the right place.
Elliott’s eyes were no less haunted when he emerged from his bedroom in fresh clothes. The sight of him made her stomach flip, and given the circumstances, she imagined that his did the same.
“Hi. Are… you feeling any better?”
Elliott sat very carefully down onto the chair adjacent to the couch. He was looking anywhere but at her. “I just need to know. Is…” He paused, pressing his index and middle finger into the corners of his eyes. Just like her Elliott would do when he was stressed. “Is this a joke? Am I being pranked?”
Wraith’s thumb brushed hard against the knuckles of her opposite hand. “I’m not here to prank you, Elliott.”
“So you are Renee Blasey, my best friend, back from the dead?”
“I…” Feeling totally detached from her body at his words, Wraith swallowed. “Yeah, yes. I am Renee Blasey. But…” she shook her head, though she was unsure if it was directed at him or herself. “I don’t know how—how do we know each other?”
At that, Elliott finally looked at her. “How do we—what? L-let me get this straight, ‘cause I’m lost, here.” He stood up, and began to pace and gesture wildly as he spoke. “You disappear without a trace, you show up twelve years later, out of the blue…”
Twelve years. Wraith felt nothing short of nauseous. “Elliott-“
“…You say my name,” he continued, voice getting louder with each word, “but then you ask me how we know each other? I-“
“Elliott!” She repeated, matching his volume. He stopped, mid stride, and stared at her.
Truthfully, Wraith didn’t know what to say. How could she even begin to explain everything? How could she expect him to believe her? Oh, I don’t know you in this world, but I know you in the next one. It’s a whole thing.
“Tell me what you know about my disappearance.”
For an agonising moment, Elliott didn't speak. His whole body seemed to rise and fall with each breath he took, as if he’d been running for miles. Finally, “Just that you were working on something. It… it was a secret IMC project. But I only found that out after you went… went missing.”
This time, it was Wraith’s turn to avoid his gaze. “I’ll tell you everything,” she promised, trying to keep her voice calm, choosing her words carefully, “but it’s not going to be easy. There are parts you will have a hard time believing.”
His voice softened, then. “Like what, Ren?”
Wraith’s heart fell into her stomach. Ren. So intimate, familiar, and… and not at all.
And that was precisely the problem, wasn’t it? He looked at her and he saw someone that, as far as she could tell, meant a lot to him. He could see everything they might have gone through together; he could see everything that made her who she was.
But when Wraith looked at him? That was the person she loved most in her world. Who could anchor her to reality in much the same way a child grasped a balloon on a windy day.
And yet, while she was his Renee, he wasn’t her Elliott. Not really.
“I’ll tell you everything,” she repeated, voice thick. “But what you need to know is that I remember nothing of my life before I disappeared. You should also know…” She finally lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, “that there are other worlds out there. Alternate dimensions. So… so let’s cut a deal.”
As she spoke, Wraith watched Elliott’s eyes become gradually, almost impossibly wider. He blinked incredulously. “What…"
“Tell me the story of my life. My old life. And I’ll tell you the story of my new one.”