---

Lillian Lillihammer was not the type of woman to 'talk about her feelings' — even after the massive influx of hormones, she would never openly show her true emotions.

Of course, all of that is only true if you ignore Heather Garrison.

The moment that Lillian Lillihammer saw her girlfriend, all common sense went out the window. Her carefully crafted persona, forged through years of dealing with idiots, learning how to get what she wanted, all of the ways she controlled her reactions, emotions, were nothing in the face of Heather.

She makes me feel like I don't know what I'm going to do next, Lillian thought, daydreaming instead of working. And I know that others must be used to it, but the idea that I am out of my own control is…

It was terrifying, even if Lillian wouldn't admit that to herself. For decades, she had truly embraced a single existence, fucking whomever she wanted, and not worrying about dating or relationships. A year ago, Lillian would have never considered marriage as a serious option.

So what changed? Lillian asked herself, knowing the answer. When the fuck did I start to…

It was when she almost lost her.

"Mom, can I ask you a question?"

Omnia had wandered into the room, at some point, and stood in front of her, staring. This, unfortunately, was not an uncommon occurrence.

"Omnia, what is it now?"

"I… well…" Omnia bit her lip, face scrunching as she tried to concentrate. Lillian had watched the human version of the Noosphere try to navigate the human world, interpersonal interactions and more for months now, and found it an easy source of entertainment. It wasn't that Omnia didn't know, because the fact was she did know everything — it was that Omnia made mental connections that would only make sense to, well, the Noosphere.

Despite her mortality, Lillian understood what it meant to have to filter through petabytes of useless ideas, thoughts and memories, just to focus on a single concept; out of everybody at SITE, Omnia connected with Lillian the most.

"What is love?" Omnia asked, having worked her own mental gymnastics to reach that conclusion.

"Are you serious?" Lillian asked, eyes flicking back to her computer for a second, before returning attention to Omnia. "You know, I would have yelled at anybody else who asked me that."

"I know," Omnia replied, sitting down and playing with her hair. "But I just… of course I know what love is, but…"

"But, you also don't? At least, not really?" Lillian smirked, concealing the gentle understanding within.

"You get it!" Omnia reacted in joy, eyes sparkling with flecks of vibrant violet as she smiled.

"Unfortunately," Lillian said, quietly chuckling, "I do get it. So, uhh…"

Lillian walked around her desk, patting a nearby couch, sitting down on one end. Omnia moved, sitting opposite her, eagerly looking back in silence.

"Love is…" Lillian covered her face, eyes closing as she struggled to express it in a way that Omnia would understand. "Love is like… it's a promise?"

"Love is a promise? About what?"

"Great question," Lillian answered, shaking her head. "It's a promise that you will… well, it means that you are going to be there for them. No matter what."

"What do you mean?"

Great question, Lillian thought, as she continued replying without a filter. "I mean that, no matter what happens, regardless of the obstacles in the way, I would do everything in my power to be there for Heather. Whether that means just being there to support her, rescuing her from uncertain abstraction, or just bringing her a cup of tea: it's a promise that I want to try, for her."

"So," Omnia began, tilting her head. "Do you love other mom?"

"Other mom?" Lillian paused, trying to make the same linear connects Omnia had. "Do you mean Heather?"

"Yeah! Do you love Heather?"

"Of course I love her."

A split-second later, Lillian identified the respondent as being herself. What the fuck has happened to me? Who the fuck just… says that?

"That makes sense." Omnia was quiet, looking at her feet. She twiddled her thumbs, as Lillian watched.

"Hey," Lillian said, reaching out and grabbing Omnia's hand. "What's going on in that massive, incredibly important mind of yours?"

Omnia smiled gently, but tried to brush Lillian off. "No, it's fine. Thank you for giving me an answer."

"Look, you might be able to fool others," Lillian said, holding tight to Omnia, "but I saw that look. And like you, I can't forget it, no matter what I do. It's like a loose thread, you know? A frayed string, just begging to be pulled at, and if I don't act in the moment, Arachne, I am going to be stuck thinking about that for years. Trust me, I've done it before."

When did I get so fucking soft? Lillian thought in a panic, hearing her own words echoing in her mind. Who the fuck is this vulnerable woman, and what happened to the genius bombshell who used to stalk the halls of Site-43?

"Are you sure I can ask? I don't want to bother you, and I know it's going to be a stupid question." Omnia wasn't meeting her eyes, and Lillian knew that wasn't normal.

"I'm sure," Lillian replied sweetly, concealing her intense internal panic behind a half-hearted smile.

"I know that people who are in love get married, and I know that people who have two moms are that way because their moms are married…" Omnia trailed off, the unspoken question floating in the air.

"Are you asking why Heather and I are just dating?" Lillian asked, her internal conflict having been pushed to the side for the moment. Omnia nodded in silent affirmation, as Lillian closed her eyes and shook her head.

"You know, Omnia," Lillian replied, "I've been asking myself that question a lot lately."

"How are you going to figure that out?" Omnia asked, inquisitive as ever.

"Great question," Lillian replied, her mind racing as she considered the plan that was being built in her dormant subconscious; a plan that she had began to set in motion months ago, before they had even finished resolving 'absence', an errant thought that had latched within her mind, slowly influencing everything that she did. Even as Heather and Lillian worked overtime, getting SITE ready, it had smoldered just under the surface, itching in her brain, waiting for the right moment to burn once more.

She had been desperate for a chance to scratch that itch.

"I think I'll start," Lillian replied, "by making sure that I'm not losing my mind."

---

Harry Blank had come to enjoy the past few months in a way he had never expected: he was finally getting some work done. He could start a video call, and actually finish that video call. Harry was able to close his office door, and know it would remain closed until he opened it. He could make a plan, and execute on it without interruptions.

He should have been incredibly happy about that fact.

He reminded himself every day that this was a good thing.

But, when his door slammed open again, crashing into his since-moved furniture, a thunderous noise pulling him out of his work meeting — Harry Blank caught himself smiling.

"Lillian, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, taking off his headphones, not waiting for his platinum-haired friend to enter the room.

"Harry, I'm not going to wait for you to finish your ca—" Lillian yelled as she walked into his office, pausing as she noticed he was waiting for her. "Oh, were you expecting me?"

"No," Harry said, "which is exactly why I was ready for this. Is this a work visit?"

"I wish," Lillian said, crashing down into a Lillian-claimed seat.

"So it's a social call?" he asked, leaning forward. What's going on here? Harry wasn't used to a Lillian who just came by, there had to be something else going on. Right?

"Harry, I think I'm going fucking crazy."

"Oh?" Harry smiled, leaning back in his chair. "And how is this different than the many times you've been through this in deadlines, breaches or—"

"You know me, right Harry?" Lillian said, interrupting him, and ignoring the snark.

"I would hope so," he replied, feeling nostalgic. "There was a time I knew you better than you did. Well, at least, before you were willing to admit it."

"Ha, ha." Lillian sat up, and looked at Harry with a serious face, not a trace of mischief or impishness.

That's unusual.

"Okay," Harry answered placatingly, "so what's up, Lil?"

"I…" Lillian trailed off.

She's… hesitating? What in Dewey's name is happening?

"Are you okay? Is something going on?"

Lillian blushed.

"Look," she said, hair falling in front of her face as she looked away. "Just… shut up, okay? I need to say something, and if you keep cracking fucking jokes then I'm never going to admit it. So, for once, I need to get your opinion on something, and I need you not to tell anybody else, okay?"

Harry blinked once, then twice, then nodded. "Okay."

Lillian looked up, biting her lip.

"Harry, I'm thinking about getting married."

Harry was delighted to be caught off guard, once more.

---

Fuck, why the fuck did you tell him that? Lillian panicked, mind racing. God, this was a stupid fucking idea, I should have never—

"You're thinking of getting married? To Heather, I'd assume?"

"Who the fuck else would it be?" Lillian snapped in a comfortable, nostalgic dynamic. "It's not like I've ever considered marriage with anybody else."

"Well," Harry intoned, "I don't think you ever seriously considered marriage, period, did you?"

"Yeah," Lillian admitted. "It just… it didn't seem like something I had to worry about, you know? Yeah, I dated Eileen for a long time, and everybody would ask if we were going to get married; and you know how that ended."

"Did you even consider marrying Eileen?" Harry asked point blank.

Point Blank, indeed, Lillian thought, shaking her head. "No. I knew it would never happen."

Lillian stood, and began to pace through Harry's office, the number of steps between the walls memorized long ago. "But, this is insane, right? How can I still be Lillian, and be seriously considering marriage? Harry, I have no fucking clue how to control this feeling, and it makes me feel broken. Is this crazy? Me? Getting married?"

She turned, studying Harry's face for an iota of reaction — but he embodied his name, being inscrutable.

"I think," Harry started slowly, tenting his fingers. "I think that, if you ever would have married anybody, it would be Heather. I would have never guessed you would actually end up married, nor that you would be the one to initiate it — but I'm happy for you."

"Fuck," Lillian said, collapsing back into the chair. "I was really hoping you would tell me that I was making a mistake."

"Why?" he asked, laughing warmly. "Aren't you the one who's seriously considering this?"

"Well, yeah, sure," Lillian answered, waving that off. "I still think having to get married is a stupid concept."

"What's wrong with marriage?" Harry asked, his actual task having been pushed to the side. "It's just a natural evolution of a relationship, no? A promise, to be together forever?"

"Sure, but relationships are also a stupid fucking concept. Why get tied down, you don't know what's going to happen in the future?"

"Lillian, you don't like relationships," Harry said, shaking his head, "but you came to tell me that you were going to get married. You hear yourself, right?"

Lillian groaned in frustration, throwing her head back. "I know! Trust me, this is about how well my own thoughts have played out — fuck, Harry, that's why I came to talk to you. I just…"

"You're worried that it might be a mistake?"

"Yeah." She shook her head, her lips tightening. "I'm— don't fucking repeat this, ever — but I'm out of my depth."

"So," Harry asked, "how can I help?"

"I don't know."

God, this was fucking stupid, Lillian worried. I should just lea—

"Well, you want to get married," Harry started, stroking his beard. "The first step in that, generally, is telling your significant other. Or, well, proposing."

"I'm not doing a fucking flash mob," Lillian snapped back, "I hate when it's just a public spectacle. Like, what? You need people to witness your love, just so that it's real? Like you need a witness for it to mean something?"

"So you are going to propose, then?" Harry smiled. He had caught her in a trap.

"Fuck," Lillian sat up, fighting the smile. "You know I hate it when you do that."

"I would stop, if you stopped falling for it." Harry smiled in return. "So, if not a public proposal, then what?"

"That's a great question," Lillian answered, kicking her feet up onto his desk. "How do people propose?"

"Well," Harry said, lecturing like the professional he was. "You kind of have two types of proposals. There's the small, intimate romantic ones, and then the over-the-top spectacles. It sounds like you don't care for the over-the-top ones, so—"

"I didn't say that," Lillian said, sitting forward and cutting him off. "I said that I didn't like public proposals. There's no way that I'm going to fucking do something forgettable."

"Obviously," Harry said, gesturing at her dazzlecoat. "So, what? You want to do something that is incredibly over-the-top, but also incredibly intimate? Something that is special, but only for the two of you?"

"Exactly!" Lillian's mind began to wander. Something special… well, it has to be big enough that it stands out, and we've gone through a lot of big things together. So, something bigger than that?

She considered that, for a moment.

No, not just big though, it needs to be permanent. Something that will withstand the shit we deal with on a daily basis, something that means something, a proposal that…

"You just had an idea, didn't you?" Harry asked, smarmily.

"Shut up." As if she would admit that too.

"You know how you're going to propose?"

"I… I have a very rough outline."

Harry smiled, standing up from his desk, and standing in front of Lillian.

"What?" Lillian asked, staring up at Harry in confusion. "What did I say?"

"I'm trying to give my best friend a hug, to celebrate her planning a proposal. Is that okay?"

"I guess," she muttered, but still stood and embraced her childhood friend. Harry had been with her, through thick and thin, deadlines and timelines alike; for once, they had something to celebrate, and neither would let it slip away.

After a bit longer than either of them would ever admit to, they broke apart.

"So," Harry said, leaning on his desk. "How can I help?"

"I need help breaking some rules."

"Of course," he said, chuckling. "You know what's crazy? I actually have a meeting scheduled with—"

"I know," Lillian said, cutting him off. "I mean, 'oh, you do?'"

Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "I missed you, you asshole."

"Of course you did," Lillian said as she paused, turning back at the threshold. In the quietest tone she could muster, she continued, "I missed you too, Harry. Now come on, I've got a deal to make."

---

"Come in," Allan McInnis said calmly, sitting behind his desk. A practiced, effusive smile was plastered on his face, as he waited for Harry's entrance; Harry responded best when placated, and McInnis wanted to make this as smooth as possible. If they could get the Archival conflict resolved, then he would have the time for the other countless tasks he had, waiting for him to get to.

Of course, why would anything at Site-43 be smooth? he thought, as a familiar platinum-maned woman stopped in ahead of Blank.

"Lillian," McInnis said, his smile unwavering. "I wasn't expecting you today."

Not a question, not a complaint, simply a statement — enough to prompt Lillian into giving a direct answer, if McInnis still had her number.

"I need your help breaking a rule," Lillian said, sitting as Harry walked in behind her, shrugging at McInnis' pointed, questioning glance.

"Of course you do." After a brief moment to collect himself, McInnis shook his head. "What rule, tell me, would you need my help breaking? I assumed you would be skilled enough yourself in rebellion, no?"

"Ha, funny." Lillian said, rolling her eyes. "I need authorization to change the fabric of reality."

"You do?" Harry asked in bewilderment. "When did you figure that out?"

"Shut up," Lillian said, brushing him off. "It's not a big change, most people won't even notice — I just need the authorization."

McInnis looked between the two, searching for any clues that would help him solve the puzzle laid before him; nothing yet, but for now, he could clarify.

"If you needed a Director, why not go to Heather?" McInnis tented his fingers, and pursed his lips. I would think a romantic partner would accommodate that? he wondered, confusion evident to none but himself.

Lillian looked away. After a second, Harry interjected. "Lil, you have to tell him what you're planning."

But still, Lillian didn't answer. A second later, Harry kicked Lillian in the shin. She yelped, glaring at him.

"Fine," she growled through gritted teeth. "I need help to propose to Heather. That's why I can't ask her."

Oh, McInnis thought, blinking. Of course, it had to be romance.

---

Why is Lillian pulling away? Harry thought, puzzled by his friend.

"You know what?" Lillian said, standing abruptly. "It's fine, whatever, I don't need your—"

"Lillian, please sit," McInnis said calmly, but firmly, as he leaned forward. "I am, as you might know, out of my element when it comes to matters of—"

"Sex?" Lillian threw out, at the same time Harry supplied: "Romance?"

"The finer details of intimacy," McInnis finished himself, smiling politely. "Lillian, you are getting married?"

"I don't know. Maybe, I guess." She looked uncomfortable, for a second, before her face calmed. "That's what you do when you're in love, right?"

"I believe so," McInnis agreed, as they both turned to look at Harry.

"What?" he sputtered, looking between the two. "What is it?"

"Harry," McInnis said gently, laying a subtly devious trap that Harry had long learned to recognize. "What do you think about all of this?"

"Lillian," Harry said, turning to face her, and doing his best to avoid the pitfalls. "You love Heather, right? Just accept that you can be normal, and live your life — if you love her, marry her!"

Lillian sneered, her lip curling up — it seemed Harry had pushed her a bit too far.

"Didn't you love Eileen? Why didn't you marry her? Or, for that matter, what about Melissa? Clearly, that must make you an expert in marriages, right?" Lillian said, snapping out. "What the fuck do you know?"

Harry paused, brushed an invisible piece of lint from his pants, and stood.

"Great point." Harry nodded to McInnis, before looking back at Lillian. "Give me a call, when you pull your head out of your ass."

Without giving her a chance to reply, Harry stormed out of the room.

---

Much to McInnis' surprise, it was Lillian who broke the silence first.

"Sorry," she said, in a rare display of guilt. "I… I've been thinking about this a lot, but I feel like I still don't understand what love means. Before Heather, everything was just sex, you know?"

McInnis stared back, blankly.

"Shit, right." Lillian looked chagrinned. "It's not that hard, you know? Like, it shouldn't be this hard to know what love is, right?"

"You know, Lillian," McInnis began, while he tried to find his footing. "It's okay to be anxious about this, it's a big decision."

"I'm not anxious," she immediately clarified, before forcing herself to continue. "I just… Lust I understand. Physical intimacy is a language I am fluent in. Desire, seduction, sexual tension; those are all things that I get."

"But love isn't?" McInnis offered, a sympathetic tone to his voice. "I'm afraid, I'm not much help in that regard myself. Are you worried about how Heather might react?"

"I just…" Lillian groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Allan, when the fuck did we get so old?"

"What do you mean?" Allan said, despite knowing exactly what she meant.

"I mean, one second, I'm young, flirty, about to start my career in the real world. And then suddenly—"

"The Foundation entered your life, whisked you away, and in all the chaos, urgency and stakes, time kept going? And now, you finally had a moment, a chance to take a breath and look up, and you don't recognize a single thing?"

The pair looked at each other, doppelgangers of exhaustion, and sighed.

"I know exactly what I should look like in the mirror," she laughed morosely. "And yet, when I look in the mirror, it takes me a second to recognize all the ways I am not me anymore."

"When you see yourself in your mind," McInnis asked, as he finally found the missing piece to the puzzle, "what do you see?"

"Myself, obviously."

After a beat, she closed her eyes.

"I see myself, fiery, confident, a hunger in my eyes. I see the slight hints of red that were just beginning to fade to silver, and I see myself embracing the person who I always was inside."

"What else?" McInnis asked, leaning in as he studied Lillian's face. "Where are you?"

"I'm…" Lillian paused, frowning. "I'm in my bedroom."

"Which one? Your childhood bedroom?"

"My—" Lillian stuttered, eyelids flickering with movement. "I'm in my current bedroom."

"The one with—"

"Yes, the one with Heather."

"Is—"

"Yes, she's there too. She's standing over my shoulder, grinning."

Lillian opened her eyes, immediately looking at him with annoyance.

"Well?" McInnis said, the slightest hint of smugness bleeding into his tone. "I can help you with your clearances, but do you know what you need to do now?"

Lillian looked, as if she desperately dreamed this were a world where her looks could kill. Unfortunately for her, they were both in baseline, and nothing would change that soon.

"I do," she admitted begrudgingly. "And I don't at the same time."

"You have to understand, Lillian," McInnis said, as he stood to talk Lillian out. "That is how I feel about all aspects of romance. Despite that, I can see what the two of you mean to each other, in both directions. If you think it is the right time to propose, why stop yourself?"

"Why indeed?" Lillian said, nodding as she stood. "I… thanks, Allan. I appreciate it."

"Of course," he said, opening the door for her. "I'll have the chicken."

"Excuse me?" Lillian said in confusion, as she paused at the door.

"For the wedding," McInnis said, smiling. "Consider this my RSVP."

---

Lillian wasn't sure if it was the clangorous chimes, the overwhelming scent of nag champa, or just plain common sense, but it was undeniable that she was out of place here. On a whim, she had traveled through the Spoke, ending up in a metaphysical store nestled in the town closest to SITE. If anybody had asked her why, she would have no answer.

Lillian, she thought, head down, you are out of control.

"Come in, come in!" a voice rang out from deeper within, lilting in enigmatic tones. "I have long been—"

The voice paused as Lillian continued in, as she finally saw the speaker. An older woman, her hair a messy nest of chaos, stared at Lillian like she was a puzzle.

"Oh, sorry about that," the woman continued, in a completely different, nasal, sardonic tone of voice, lips curling into a smile. "I like to play it up, you know, for the 'dreamers'. You are not that. Are you lost?"

"I don't think so," Lillian said, trying to gauge the proprietor's intentions. "I'm… I don't know, I'm here to see the psychic?"

"You're looking at her, honey." The woman sat down on a nearby stool behind the counter, and assessed Lillian with overt scrutiny, staring without blinking. "You're here to see me?"

"You sound surprised," Lillian said, slowly walking deeper, while avoiding the cauldrons and bric-a-brac that lined the floor and walls. The store was filled with gemstones, prayer candles, sigils, altar cloths, and anything else you could possibly need to contact a spirit from beyond — and it was everywhere. "Shouldn't a psychic—"

"Know that you were coming?" the woman supplied in a sarcastic tone, laughing. "You didn't answer my question — are you here to have your fortune told?"

"I'm not sure what to do," Lillian admitted as she looked around the store, as if looking for an excuse. "And I couldn't find a Magic 8 Ball on such short notice."

"Huh."

"Huh what?"

"I just… listen, honey, you don't look like the customers I usually get." The woman stood from her stool, bones cracking as she did. She walked across the store, and stood in front of Lillian, a full head and a half shorter.

"What?" Lillian asked, staring right back. "You only serve twenty-something vegans who obsess over their horoscopes?"

"No," the woman said, laughing. "They're usually much stupider than you. I'm not going to play it up, I don't need to add the dramatics; if it's alright with you, I'd just like to speak to you directly."

"And you needed my permission first?" Lillian asked, smirking.

"No," the woman said, gesturing for Lillian to follow her, as they walked up a narrow set of stairs. "But when have women our age ever felt comfortable talking openly?"

"Ha," Lillian said, walking with a slight uncertainty up the winding stairwell. "You definitely don't know me then, psychic."

"Magic is as real as we make it, honey."

"Don't I know it."

The woman stopped in front of a door, decorated with astrological symbols, Sanskrit and star charts — she turned, eyes narrowing at Lillian.

"What are you here for?" she asked pointedly, crossing her arms. "Not what you told others, not the jokes you are going to try and crack; what do you actually want to know?"

"I…" Lillian paused, uncertainty written on her face. What am I fucking doing here?

"You're looking for answers?" the psychic asked, unprompted, smirking at Lillian.

"Nice trick," Lillian said, rolling her eyes. "I'm trying to figure out what to do in my relationship, and… I need some guidance."

"Guidance?" the woman asked, smiling. "That, I can do."

---

Lillian sat at a low table, covered in a deep purple table cloth, in a small room lit only by candles. The old woman sat across from her, a worn deck of tarot cards in her hand.

"You know this can't predict the future, right?" the fortune-teller said, as she riffled through the cards with practiced ease. "I can't make the impossible happen."

"I know that," Lillian said, as if it was obvious to any who saw her. "I just don't know who to talk to about my problem. I've tried to tell my friends, but—"

"They don't know what it means to be a woman of our vintage, unmarried and still trying to figure out what 'love' means?"

"You keep talking like that," Lillian joked, "and I may have to revise my opinion on the authenticity of fortune tellers."

"Everybody else is a hack," she barked, laughing. "Even 'Madame Sostra'."

"Is that your name?" Lillian asked, fidgeting as the tarot deck was placed on the table, face down, in front of her.

"Call me Diane," the psychic said, stretching and groaning. "So, are you ready to give this a shot?"

"I guess so," Lillian said, helplessly. "What… what are we doing?"

"I'm going to help you figure that out." Diane flipped the deck over, fanning it out across the table. "This is my tarot deck, one I have used for over a decade. I have relied on it for help, for guidance, and for insights into the unknown. It's a judgmental bitch, but, hey! So am I."

"And it can tell the future?"

"Sure, about as well as a man can find the clit." Diane cackled. "But, I've always found that it has the answers we don't want to find, if you know what I mean."

Lillian nodded, silently introspective.

"So," she asked, hesitantly. "How… how do we start?"

"First," Diane said, crossing her legs, "you tell me why you're here."

Here we go, Lillian thought, swallowing.

"I'm in a relationship, and we've been dating for about six months now." Lillian had opened the floodgates, and couldn't stop herself from talking. "We met at work, and one thing led to another — and, well, we're living together now."

"What's her name?" Diane asked, gently shuffling the deck back into a pile.

"You didn't 'see a mysterious man' in my future?" Lillian retorted, smirking.

"Honey," Diane replied, leaning forward on the low table. "If it was about a man, you wouldn't be here."

Lillian laughed, nodding in acquiescence. "Her name is Heather."

"So you and Heather are dating, things going well?"

"Scarily so," Lillian admitted, a slight blush on her face. "I feel out of control sometimes — I just see her, know that I love her, and want to do anything to be with her. I've… I've never felt that before."

"So you're thinking of settling down?"

"Okay," Lillian said, frowning. "I can see why you call yourself a 'psychic'."

"Pah, I'm a fraud — at our age, what else is there to wonder about?" Diane placed the deck face-down in front of Lillian. "You're thinking of getting married?"

"I…"

"Ah," Diane interjected, smiling. "That's what you're here about. Did she pop the question?"

"No," Lillian replied, nails scratching at the chair's arm. "But I'm trying to figure out if I should propose."

"Are you ready to see what the cards say?" Diane asked, inclining her neck to the worn pile sat before Lillian. Lillian took a deep breath in, forcing the air out in aggravation, before nodding.

Diane fanned the deck out, and proffered it to Lillian. "First, pick a card. This card represents Heather, and who she is to you."

Lillian ran her fingers over the uneven and raw edges of the tarot cards, the paper warm to the touch. She glided over the rough ridges, settling on a card she deftly extracted from the deck, placed face down before her.

Diane nodded, placing the deck to the side, and flipping the card.

"The Fool," Diane said, gesturing to the card, sitting upside-down before Lillian. "Inverted, too. Heather is an anomaly, a free thinker, somebody who is confident, maybe to a fault. She is brash, challenges you, pushes you to places you didn't think possible. She has taken your expectations, and shattered them, time and time again."

Lillian nodded, enraptured by the image. A jester stood, head cocked, without a care in the world — on the precipice of a cliff. Confidence, in the face of disaster.

That's Heather.

Lillian looked up, to see Diane holding the cards for her to choose from, once again. "Next, you pick your own signifier, the card that represents you."

She flipped the card; a woman sat, in a cart, drawn by lions, the reins held loosely in her hands.

"The Chariot," Diane said, looking at Lillian with piercing grey eyes. "The locus of control, and the implicit leader, yet, unburdened by her position. She has full domination over the world around her, but does so with casual ease. To some, she seems aloof; but she is focused on the big picture. She doesn't ask before doing, because she knows best — sound familiar?"

"Am I that obvious?" Lillian asked, frowning at the accuracy.

"No," Diane said, "I'm just good at what I do. Now, here's the hard part: I want you to think of a single question, simple, concise, direct about what you want to know."

Lillian paused, thinking for a second. What do I ask? Do I ask if I'm doing the right thing? Am I rushing? Should I—

"How can I prove to Heather that I will always love her, no matter what? How do I propose, and show her how much she means to me?"

Lillian didn't recognize her own voice, nor the sincerity in it, but she knew that was the question lying at the bottom of her heart — how could she make their love mean something, in the face of existential nightmares?

Diane gave her a gentle smile, shuffling the cards once more, and passing Lillian the deck. "Cut the cards," she said, before taking them back, and flipping the top card over.

Two women stood, face to face, each holding a golden goblet in their hand. A glowing, radiant star hung low in the air, intertwined streams of starlight braided into a waterfall of light, leading into each cup. The figures were frozen in mid-stretch, each reaching for the other's vessel.

"The Two of Cups," Diane said, deck placed to the side. "You two aren't a normal couple, you have a special connection, a bond. There is a unifying force, but not one that forced you two together — no, you both pushed through that overwhelming compulsion to hide, instead reaching out for the other. There was something that threatened you, threatened you both; and in the face of that, you stood strong, together, rejecting the fates assigned by the stars. You each pushed back against destiny, stubbornly driving yourselves together. You stand at the precipice, my dear, but there is a light in the darkness. A burning candle, a flame, a lighthouse, guiding the two of you together. You are at the start of a spectacle, one which will stretch to eternity; but only if you are willing to etch your love into stone."

Lillian looked on in silence, finger gently tracing the braided light decorating the card. I need to make something, something eternal, something that will exist, no matter what happens to us. I need to make something, a way to never forget what we mean to each other. I need to make a promise, etched into the fabric of reality.

"You look like you got an answer," Diane said, gently sweeping up the cards and shuffling them back into the deck. "Satisfied?"

"Surprisingly so," Lillian admitted, mind racing with possibilities. "You're good at this," she admitted, a beat later.

"In everything but my own life," Diane said, as she leaned against the wall and slowly stood. "Don't lose this opportunity, okay? Don't end up where I am, just because you won't admit how you feel. She deserves to know how much she means to you."

"If I have my way," Lillian said, inspiration striking at the pieces fell into place. "Everybody will know exactly what we mean to each other. Forever."

---

This is happening, Lillian repeated to herself in her mind. You're doing this, this is really happening.

She stood, arms crossed, tapping her feet and checking her watch, once again putting off apologizing to Harry. I know I'm early, but you would expect that a trained agent would— Before Lillian could finish her snark, she spotted Hana Thompson rounding the corner, awkwardly waving hello.

"Hi, Lillian," Hana said, standing an awkward distance apart. The night before, Lillian had knocked on her door until Hana finally caved and answered, Billie peering out from within; being invited out the next day to do some 'shopping' was never something Hana could have predicted being asked, especially by Lillian — but she agreed to it nonetheless.

"Hana," Lillian said, nodding. She paused, and a moment later, said, "Thanks for coming, by the way. I know we aren't really…"

"Friends?"

"Yeah, well," Lillian gestured at the store behind her. "I have no fucking clue what I'm doing here, so I came to you for help."

"And, exactly, what are we doing here?" Hana asked, looking at the storefront. "Why did you have me meet you at a jewelry store? You're not…"

"I'm—" Lillian paused, and advanced on Hana, poking her for emphasis right on the breast of her letterman. "You tell nobody about this, understand?"

Hana took on a grave face, nodding. "I won't tell a soul."

"Not even Heather," Lillian clarified.

"Not even Heather."

Lillian turned, looking at the window at the sparkling gemstones within, biting her lip.

"I'm… I'm going to propose to Heather. And I need help picking out a ring."

She hadn't said it aloud before, and it felt good to get a weight off of her chest. It would have felt even better, had Hana's reaction been anything but the shit-eating grin, and what she said next.

"What, did she turn the Ring Pop down?"

Lillian's eye twitched.

"But, wait, oh my god!" Hana squealed in excitement. "You're going to propose to Heather? Of course I'll help you! I just… I never really took you for the type to, well, you know."

"To get married?" Lillian said, as she inclined her head towards the store and entered, Hana following.

"I was going to say, I never took you for somebody to do things the traditional way." Hana shook her head, waving away the help as they approached the ring counter. "And I certainly never thought that you would invite me out, to go ring shopping. It just sounds so…"

"Old school?" Lillian asked, wincing.

"Basic," Hana replied, deadpan.

Lillian snorted.

The rings sparkled below in the glass display case, each one catching the light that was carefully aimed to elicit the brightest radiance. There were countless styles, cuts, gemstones, fittings, bands and— to put it simply, Lillian was overwhelmed.

"Do you think those would—"

"No," Hana said, shaking her head. "Those are wedding bands, you want an engagement ring."

"And…" Lillian trailed off, as she stared at Hana blankly. "Those are different?"

"Wow, you really did need my help." Hana smiled, with the hints of a smirk peeking through.

"Is it obvious that I don't know what I'm doing?" Lillian asked, crouching to look at the rings on the lower shelf.

"A bit," Hana said, leaning on the counter and peering in. "But, I mean, I get it. I wouldn't know what to do either, I'd probably just do like… you know, the classic wedding? Big, white dress, full band, the works!"

"The works?" Lillian asked, skeptically. "I don't really get the point of 'a classic wedding', what's so great about it?"

"Umm," Hana responded, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'll be honest, I only said that because those are the big things that everybody expects? Like, I don't really think I know what a wedding is, outside of the idea of it."

"Right? Who would spend that much time thinking about it?" Lillian scoffed, nodding. "Like, sure, I've watched TV before. I know the whole 'x-months of salary', inviting a friend to look at rings, I just… it feels like I'm going through the motions?"

"What do you think about that one?" Hana said, pointing to a delicate ring on the left of the counter, a large, solitaire-cut diamond affixed in the center. "It seems like the kind of ring somebody would want to get."

"Does it? Would Heather like it?" Lillian asked, peering into the cabinet in doubt. "It just doesn't feel right — for that matter, none of this feels right. I'm just supposed to, what, figure out what people expect for something that I'm only ever going to do once?"

"It feels like you're playing pretend, because that's what people want from you? But also, maybe that's all you've ever known, and all you're good at — playing the part, I mean. But like… underneath everything, it just doesn't fit, you know?"

"You know," Lillian said, moving to the next display. "You're not as dumb as you first seem."

"And you're not as much of an asshole as people say," Hana retorted, grinning viciously. "I guess we both have depth. Strange, huh?"

Lillian rolled her eyes, as she scanned the rows of rings. She found nothing, and rubbed her temples in frustration.

"What the fuck am I even looking for?"

"A ring, I think," Hana offered, giggling. "That's what other people do when they want to get married."

"Other people, ugh." Lillian groaned in annoyance, covering her mouth when glared at by the store employees. "It's just that, well, I have no idea what romance, marriage, or even a healthy relationship looks like. How the fuck am I supposed to know what to do here?"

"Yeah," Hana said, head tilted as she considered a blue stone. "I get it. When you enter containment at the end of high school, you don't really learn how to be normal, especially with relationships. Even with a year of college, I still worry that I'm just faking it, pretending I have any idea what romance means. I feel like half the time I'm just making shit up as I go."

"How does that work out for you?" Lillian gave her a pointed stare, sarcasm dripping from her tone. "Clearly, clear skies and smooth sailing, without any complications?"

"Shut up," Hana said, blushing. "It's complicated."

"And Heather and I aren't?"

Hana shook her head, smiling softly.

"No, you two aren't complicated. It's different." Hana's grin widened as she continued. "When I see you and Heather together, I see two people who cannot be without the other; you're like a pair of waves, each rushing across the ocean — forming a massive wave when combined, overwhelming everybody and everything, a massive force both pushing you out, and pulling you under, simultaneously. I can see how you feel about her, every time you think she's not looking; and for what it's worth, she does the same."

"Right," Lillian said, worry showing through the cracks. "But is that what love is? How the fuck am I supposed to know that, if I don't know what a relationship should be?"

"I mean," Hana said, giving Lillian a skeptical look. "You want to be with Heather, right?"

"For the rest of my life," Lillian answered immediately, voice unwavering. After a beat, she grinned sheepishly. "That has to count for something, right?"

"Yeah," Hana agreed, the slightest hint of envy tinging her sympathetic tone. "Just, you know… make sure you tell Heather that."

Lillian was on the edge of walking out — when a sparkle caught her eye, pulling her across the store. There, on a low, forgotten rack, was a ring — an opal, princess-cut, surrounded by diamonds and moonstones. The colors shifted in the light, seeming to glow with a warmth; it was loud, confident, but effortlessly beautiful all the same.

"What do you think?" Lillian asked, pointing to the ring. "Do you think that will tell Heather how I feel?"

"I mean, with something like that?" Hana shook her head, grinning. "I think it would be pretty hard for Heather to forget."

"That's the idea," Lillian muttered, as she flagged down an employee.

---

"So, where are we going?" Heather asked, squeezing Lillian's hand as they walked through the empty abyss that was the Noosphere. She wore a white, backless dress, bohemian-chic, fabric rippling with each step. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and her make-up was contrastingly, careful and intentional — after all, it wasn't every day that Lillian asked her out on a date.

Scratch that, Heather thought. Lillian never plans a date. What's going on here?

"I thought we could go on a walk," Lillian answered, in an obvious lie. "What? Is it so surprising that I wanted to go on a date with my girlfriend?"

Lillian wore a black blouse, buttoned up and stretching over her chest, drawing Heather's stare to the generous view. It was tucked into a pair of dark jeans, a chunky belt pulling it all together. As she looked closer, the blouse wasn't a flat color, but a myriad of overlapping symbols, patterns and fractals; pixels in a sea of texture. Lillian's hair was perfectly straight, and brushed to one side; she even had a subtle make-up look, pink lips and rosy cheeks.

The pair walked hand in hand, bright beacons in an otherwise empty landscape, the silence of the Noosphere only punctuated by their footsteps and the flickering images overhead.

"Do you think it's weird?" Heather asked as they walked, arms swinging. "I feel like I've known you forever, and I can be myself around you — but when you think about it, it really hasn't been that long."

"I definitely think it's weird," Lillian agreed, squeezing Heather's hand. "I mean, before you? I wasn't known for, well, monogamy. Or stable relationships. I didn't want to find love, I wanted to kick ass and keep solving impossible problems."

"Well then," Heather said, smiling. "Sorry for ruining your plans, babe."

"It's fine, I'm happier this way." Lillian pulled a face, teasing Heather. "I don't know how it happened, but I fell for you, and I fell hard."

"Maybe we're soulmates?" Heather offered, half-joking.

"Doubtful," Lillian said, as she pulled Heather to the side, down a separate path (in as much as there were distinct paths within the Noosphere). "I've been thinking about that a lot, actually."

"Oh? You've been thinking about soulmates?" Heather teased, pulling Lillian closer to bump shoulders.

"The multiverse, actually," Lillian said, looking thoughtful. "I was going through my memories, from other timelines, and, well, it's weird."

"What is?" Heather bit her lip. Why is my heart pounding?

"I think…" Lillian paused, hesitating. "I think we're the exception, not the rule."

"We're not together in other lines?" Heather asked, a twinge of jealousy rising in her voice.

"And the ones where we are, either you die, I die, or we both die. Hell, half of the time, I don't even know who you are as a concept."

Oh, Heather thought, the realization echoing through her mind. "Timelines where… where I was lost to absence?"

"Amongst others." Lillian was at a loss for words, a rarity. "I can remember everything, but — here, right now? I can't stop thinking about how much I love you, and in every other life, that would never happen."

"So, what you're saying is," Heather replied, holding Lillian's hand in a vice grip. "We are an exception in the multiverse? A random chance that led to our paths crossing, unexpectedly falling head over heels for each other, our sheer willpower keeping us together, pushing through the challenges that bested our other selves?"

"One in a million," Lillian said, eyes sparkling in the dark. They were at the base of a hill, and Lillian turned back, facing Heather. "Here, right now? We are something that cannot be replicated, not a product of 'fate'. We are our own people, choosing who we want to love. And I chose you, Heather Garrison."

They kissed, gently, as Lillian pulled her close.

"Now, come on," Lillian said, pulling her head back and Heather went to deepen the kiss. "There's plenty of time for that later, but we're almost there."

"Almost where?"

As they crested the hill, Heather found her answer.

In the middle of the Noosphere, the pitch black of conceptual space surrounding them, a polyhedral star floated, suspended in mid-air. It was a ten-pointed star, made of a radiant crystal-like material, shimmering in the air, like a mirage in a desert. The star seemed to ebb and flow, pulsating to a secret rhythm, colors shifting throughout the monument as it did.

A dull hum filled the space, as the air felt electrified. Heather found herself drawn towards the star, unable to take her eyes off of the display. The pulsing increased in speed, colors flickering, as if building up to something; Heather felt her heart synchronize with the throbbing, and it finally exploded in a dazzling array of light, color and sound.

Rainbow patterns filled the empty sky, dizzying fractals cascading out from the core — flashes of Lillian and Heather seemed to float in the sky, trapped within facets of the erupting star. Meeting in the cafeteria at Site-43, staring the other down. Tumbling into Lillian's bed, exhausted and finally giving in — kissing, in between late night whispers, moments kept to the two of them. Heather saw Lillian standing, worried, as she fought deep within her mindscape; she saw herself, anxiously waiting for Lillian to come home. Light exploded, as Heather watched the dancing visions of countless embraces, the silent looks passed back and forth, the rhythm they had when solving a problem, that felt more like dancing than debating.

She couldn't pull her eyes away, as a tear began to gather in the corner of her eye. What… what is this?

Heather saw the two of them, in bed, sleeping soundly, with a smile on their faces. Herself, asleep on Lillian's shoulder, as she brushed her hair with care and precision. She saw each and every moment she could remember, and then some — she saw their lives, together, and struggled to stay upright as the lights began to fade. Her legs were shaking, hand covering her mouth in awe. Heather was terrified to speak, frozen in place — and that was the moment she realized that Lillian was no longer holding her hand.

Heather spun around, facing away from the sight, in confusion.

Lillian was in front of her, down on one knee.

"Don't you— is this what I think it is?" Heather blurted out, anxiety welling from deep within.

"Heather Garrison, you are unlike anybody else I have ever met. I love you, with all of my heart, in a way that I have never cared about anybody else. I have a perfect memory — but the scariest thing for me is the idea that I could have forgotten about you, entirely. Heather, I almost lost you, a few months ago. That feeling terrified me, and has sat heavily in my stomach, worrying about a world where we didn't know one another."

"Lil…"

"I exist across the multiverse, as Lillian Lillihammer. You, thanks to your deadname, are a fixed point in reality; an objective idea, existing independently. We are each a static element in the world, one that can survive changes to the fabric of existence — but I stay up, at night, panicking that this might be the last time that I remember being in love with you. I can't imagine facing a world where we could be together, but aren't, just because we forgot."

Lillian gestured to the floating star, fighting back tears.

"That's why I made that. That is our love for each other — embodied. It is every memory, every emotion, every minute that we have spent together. Each kiss, each touch, each look; all immortalized, an unchanging testament to our passion. As long as the world goes on, no matter where we are, no matter what happens, no matter how much reality changes and bends: our love will always remain. We… with this, we can never forget what we mean to each other. Forever."

"Forever?"

"Heather Garrison," Lillian said, swallowing, and removing a small box from her pocket. She opened it, and the ring dazzled with the same light as the star that hung overhead.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

Without another word, Heather closed the gap and swept her into a kiss. As they embraced, pressed against each other, the flashes of their life dancing overhead, the girls knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

Forever, and always.