The Universe's Mixer

With the exception of Peter, it had been months since Evey interacted with another person. Peter needed... not her, not specifically, but an anchor. She knew her course. She built mental barriers to surround her own internal conflicts and then wrapped herself completely around her best friend. Anchor? She was more a bandage. She held him together until his own shock and loss was manageable. After that, she wasn't far from Peter for long - certainly not mentally, but physically as well. It made it easy to stay away from other people. It made it easier to ignore what she'd barred off from her best friend - and herself. Her focus was Peter. And, she told herself, that was where it needed to be.

Somewhere within month three, Peter gave her a look. It was the same look she'd shared with him often enough - the one that said, "I know exactly what you're doing, and I'm not going to call you on it - yet - but you have a finite amount of time to sort it out for yourself. After that, we're going to talk." When one was deeply connected to the consciousness of another, it only took a single look to convey deep amounts of meaning. The next morning, Evey packed the scraps of possessions she'd kept with her - toothbrush, a few changes of clothing - and left Peter's apartment.

Her own apartment was just next door. 1406. She unlocked the door and dropped the keys into the white porcelain bowl sitting atop the Doric column just inside. The door closed behind her and she set her slight shoulders against the back of it. This place felt unreal. Her eyes skimmed the clean, simple surfaces, the streaks of rosy evening sunlight tossed over the tightly-looped beige carpet, the orderliness of all of it. It was a place she might have chosen for herself. The City seemed to know her; that was clear.

She passed her thin hand over her thin face and pushed away from the door. The next hour was slow and deliberate - a shower, the careful selection of clothing, a few minutes tending the hair she'd once been proud of. When she stood in a full length mirror after the time, a stern, grim woman stared back at her. She touched the mirrored glass and the reflection her fingertips met her own. She looked like the Evey who'd survived a dinosaur island and too much loss for exact sanity. It wasn't all of what she was now, but it... it fit. Her hands skimmed down the front of her midnight cotton pants, then she shucked herself out of them quickly. There was a skirt, pencil-thin and knee length, in the back of her closet. When she returned to the mirror again, she adjusted the gray pullover blouse so that the lines were straight, then slid her bare feet into a pair of heels she'd never worn before. They felt like they belonged to the other Evey, the one who'd never lost Aidan, but she had no memory of having seen them before. And yet, they were hers.

The City was a strange place.

This is not what she should be thinking about. She squared her shoulders and finally unlocked the gates of those high stone walls in her mind. And then, she palmed her keys and made her way to the apartment that had been her home for some time. She still had his key. She didn't use it. Instead, she knocked crisply, three times. Her hands went behind her back, then, and she clasped them tightly together around her keys. The palms were moist. Her stomach was twisting. The back of her neck felt hot, as did her face. She cataloged her body's reactions clinically and acknowledged that she was anxious. She focused instead on her breathing.

Behind the door, she wondered if Preston was reaching for a gun.