Whim Manor And the Boy Who Wasn't.

Dana Freaking Scully

On the way back to Galeton, in the back of Suzi's SUV, Whim clutched my hand in hers.

She didn't say much, just "Harper" whenever she wanted me to scooch in closer, her body now the temperature of cold cuts. And I held her, trying very hard to ignore the fact that her British accent still hadn't come back.

If she really was Mary, did she lock herself in that freezer? Was she willing to kill herself over some diluted fantasy? Then who had that man been, the one she'd screamed at on camera. I found myself debating in my head whether it would be easier to fake all that... or everything else.

And did I just terrorize an innocent company... Well, innocent except for Lawson. Or maybe, I was the victim?

There were two answers to the same question: 'Mary Adler' and 'Whim Manor,' yet both seemed wrong. Did the truth lie somewhere in between?

But the way we were huddled together... As cold as it was, I felt warm, floaty, tingly, like I had when we danced. In that moment it didn't matter what her name was, if she was lying to me, or anything else. She needed me, and somehow I knew, she always would.

Halfway back to Galeton, Whim finally started warming up. Her body relaxed against mine, and she let go of my hand, now using hers to rub her legs, but she kept her hip touching mine, and nudged in closer whenever it felt like we might separate.

"Harper, thank you," she said, British accent back in full effect. "I know I owe you explanations, but I'm so tired..."

"It's okay... Whim."

"For the record, I still don't like that nickname." She let out a weak laugh and nestled into me, resting her head on my shoulder.

Suzi stopped the Audi just outside the clothing-enforced zone. "The car looks a little too... punk rock, don't you think? I'll need to find a place, out of the way, to park. Can you two make it on foot?"

Whim lifted her head, her eyes gazing into mine if just for a moment. "We need to change clothes anyway. Give me an hour at the safehouse. And I'd really really like to take a hot bath before turning myself in."

I nodded, and we walked a block in awkward silence, Whim leading the way, before she paused a step to take my hand.

We both looked at it.

"It's just... I thought I was dead," she said.

"It's okay. I thought you were too."

She started walking again, not letting go, but she wasn't touching me otherwise, it felt like she needed to keep her distance... but also like she very much needed contact.

"Sometimes, I wish—I almost wish—I was normal," she said, "I mean, I know I'm not, and... thank happenstance for that. Just I don't know... and now I'm rambling."

"I wish I was normal all the time," I said.

"What do you mean? You're perfectly normal." She looked over my body, "Oh, you mean that? That's a fairly normal thing to do. I mean most girls... women, dress like that. And most people are women, so if anything, it makes you more normal."

"Look," I shook my head, "I didn't mean to bring that up. Let's not talk about me, okay? Other things seem important right now."

"Okay." Whim gave me a tired smile as we reached the corner of Mrs. Devereux's chocolate shop.

We climbed the stairs, and she punched in the code, opening the door. But before I could enter, she stopped me with a hand on my chest. "I want to check something first, take off your heels, please."