walkswithheroes | (no subject)

She hasn't been able to get him out of her head, not since that day at the diner.

There are a lot of things that Fred is good at; put a formula in front of her or a puzzle and she'll figure it out. Even the supposedly unsolveable ones— she's seen a lot of those— and given time, she'll take it all apart, put it back together, figure out how it works and solve it.

In Darrow, she's been given two unsolveable problems. One of those, the city itself, is one she's still convinced she'll work out given time. Five years, she spent in Pylea, working the problem, shouting incantations until her voice gave out, scribbling on cave walls just to get the numbers out of her head, and here with resources and actual books, she knows she can do it.

The other problem?

Well, that one isn't as easy.

What are you supposed to do when your head tells you one thing, but everything else in you says something different?

Because she knows that there's something about the police officer she met on her first day in Darrow that she can't exactly explain. Something weird and familiar and unfamiliar all at once. And now she's started remembering things that don't make sense. Snow and sand and sleds. Herself on a stage in front of faces she can't quite make out.

Fred's not exactly sure what to do about it all, which is why she looks up Jason's address and finds herself outside his apartment.

She's going crazy. She can't be going crazy.

She knocks.

Threaded | Flat

Jason sprawls on his couch in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, staring up at the ceiling as he wrestles with the same damn problem. He thinks maybe it'd be easier to piece it all together if there weren't so many supernatural possibilities.

There's a knock at the door, and he stumbles off the couch, sliding into a pair of jeans, just barely doing the button before he opens the door.

And there she is.

"Hey," he says, breathless.