Black Hole Heartbeat

Ana - 25

"So I've got three aces. That's a good hand, right?" Ana said. Rusalka placed her hand softly on her arm, "This is one of those games where it's best to keep

your cards secret, sweetie." "But it's good, right?"

Donovan's voice came through Ana's bracelet. "Ana? Elizabeth's demanding to see you when she lands."

"Demanding?" "I believe her exact words were 'ASAP, urgent, whatever the fuck you need to say to make sure she's waiting'. Sure sounds like a demand to me."

Rusalka shuffled the deck.

"Well well," she said. "You think it's good news?"

"She said urgent. People only rush good news, they put bad news off until they absolutely have

to."

"What do you think she wants?" Ana said. "If you haven't figured that out yet, maybe you're not what she needs." "It won't mean –" "I've lost count of the times I've returned from a heist, pulse racing, and all I want is to be

devoured. You understand, Ana? De-vou-red," Rusalka syllabized. "I'm not ready. I mean, Sam..."

Rusalka waved her protests away. "You don't want to get stuck."

"What do you mean?" "Wear something pretty. And if I were you I wouldn't bother with any underwear, unless you have a pair you don't mind getting ripped."

Ana scrambled back under the pipes. Her elbow caught hot metal, scalding her skin. She

jumped down the hole and landed heavily. Clambering to her feet, she continued running until

she was back into her quarters. She was a mess. Sweat was leaking down her forehead. Her

makeup was streaked and her hair was glued in her skin in wet clumps. Her light blue shirt was

bunched up into her armpits, moist circles stained to navy.

She forced her way out of her clothes and hurried towards the shower. As soon as she felt

clean enough, she turned the taps off and activated the UV dryers. They were bad for the skin, but she didn't use them all that often and besides, now was an emergency. She stepped out of

the shower hastily, wet foot sliding on the floor. She gripped the towel rail to keep her balance.

Her hair was dribbling down. Ana yanked her styling tongs from their holder, the plastic

buckling under the strain. She cursed as she threaded her wet locks into the prongs. Water

steamed away and she unfurled immaculate golden curls. She moved around her head in this

fashion, growing more impatient with the few seconds it took her hair to transform itself each

time. Once her hair was finally ready she flung opened her wardrobe doors.

Wear something pretty.

Rusalka was ridiculous. She would not debase herself like that. She picked out a simple green

dress and put it on. She looked at herself in the mirror. She had worn this dress for Sam. But

Sam was gone now. And Ana was so alone. Was it really wrong that she wanted to be held?

"Shuttle's approaching," Donovan told her through the bracelet.