In the City

[Oxidizer]

Type of Story Short/Medium Fic - Trilogy

Rating T (SC/V)

Main Characters Tracey Thompson, Eve Jacobsen

Genre Angst/Romance

Warnings Contains scenes of a violent and deadly nature

Is Story being proof read No

Summary How Tracey and Eve met in the city

I.T.C: Index

1/3 Missing

2/3 Corruption

3/3 Revenge

MISSING

Senior Detective Tracey Thompson was snapped out of her thoughts as her superior tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around to look up at the raven-haired woman with piercing blue eyes. "Hmm?"

The white clouds that swarmed across the blue skies reflected in glistened windows. The HQ skyscraper looming over city office blocks ominously, shading the streets below.

"I need to talk to you." Sergeant Detective Amanda Donovan revealed. "A case has just come in and I want you and Detective Keller to solve it."

"What's the hurry? You know we're never assigned on cases as soon as they come in. There are processes." Tracey argued as nicely as possible. If truth be told she just couldn't be fcuked.

"Because we've been given two weeks before the case is officially deemed unsolved."

Tracey got up from her desk. "Okay, so what's the damage; who's missing?"

"Come with me, Callan's waiting in my office. We'll discuss this there." Amanda walked off, prompting Tracey to follow after her quickly, as her superior shot out of the office.

The other detectives looked up from their work as they watched. The sound of keyboards clicking momentarily stopped.

Tracey followed her superior into an office outside in the hallway with a plaque on the dark oak door, reading; Donovan, Amanda.

"Take a seat." Amanda made a gesture to the vacant chair opposite her side of the desk, which Detective Callan Keller, a good-looking man in his mid 20s with spiky gelled hair, sat next to.

Tracey did as instructed and slouched comfortably. Callan adjusted his tie accordingly.

"You'll be working together from hereon until there's at least some movement in this case." Amanda repeated herself to be clear as she slid two copies of the missing persons' file across her desk in her colleague's direction.

Callan opened the file and flipped through it. Tracey followed suit. "Laura McPherson?"

"Is there a problem, Thompson?"

"No." Tracey assured her. "No problem. It's just I remember Claire was assigned on a case where a number of animals were dead, supposedly killed. Those that weren't dead were missing."

"How is this relevant to the case?"

"Because they were Laura McPherson's pets. She was assigned on that case a week before Laura was officially deemed missing." Tracey revealed.

Callan looked up from the file and shared a concerned look with Amanda before assuming their attention on Tracey. "So you're familiar with the case?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that, ma'am."

Closing the file, Callan spoke up. "Do you think that whoever slaughtered Laura's pets are responsible for her current status?"

"Almost certainly." Amanda's face was fused with deepest thought.

"I also know that she was last seen on May the 2nd." Tracey further revealed.

"Excellent work." Amanda finished. "Go and pull up Laura's details on the database while I make a few calls; I think we need a profiler brought in. Tell me if you find anything else worthy of mention."

Tracey and Callan both bowed their heads and made their hasty exits with their individual copies of the case file. They had a long and eventful two weeks ahead of them.

It had been a long day. Four hours of working on the McPherson case and coming up with nothing. Even Callan, who usually had high-tolerance when it came to paperwork, had had enough. Luckily for them, Amanda realized how much of a strain it must be and decided to give them the rest of the day off. It was a Friday and they only had another two hours to work anyway.

Tracey rolled her shoulder blades back and sighed as she rested her hand on the glass door before her. She took a moment to brace herself before going in. Her brain had malfunctioned from being on overdrive for the past four hours.

She entered the building and whipped out her membership card from the back of her jeans and flashed it to the woman on the phone behind the front desk. She nodded her confirmation and made a gesture with her free hand for Tracey to access the shooting range.

Placing her tag back in the back of her jeans, Tracey stepped over the threshold and walked further down the darkly lit corridor until she reached the final door. The sharp sound of gunshots blasting behind the door was audible. She pushed the door open and entered.

Lined up in rows were cubicles where people stood behind, wearing protective goggles and noise reducing earplugs. At the farthest end of the shooting range was a familiar face. Tracey sighed with a smile.

Handling and admiring the various types of firearms was Xavier Garcia. The man who owned the range and a close friend of Tracey's from back in the day. He was a rookie at the academy who didn't make it.

"Thommo!" Xavier exclaimed with open arms as he caught a glance of the off-duty detective. "It's been so long! Where you been at, baby?"

"Save!" Tracey mirrored his actions. "I've been busy. Too fcuking busy."

"You looking to work out some of that testosterone, ain't ya?"

A sly grin played across Tracey's lips. "Something like that."

"Here." Xavier walked towards the firearm rack. "What you want? 9mm, Tec-9 or the Uzi?"

Tracey chuckled at the muscular man's enthusiasm. "I think I'll stick with the 9mm. I don't want to completely wreck your range."

"Wise choice!" Xavier grinned, picking up a casual 9mm pistol from the firearm holder and handing it to Tracey. "How does that feel?"

"Very good." She winked.

He threw an arm around her shoulder and walked her further into the range. "You oughta come here more often. This scene suits you more than that lame police gig."

"You just feel resentment from being rejected." Tracey teased. "I understand that."

"Am I really that fcuking obvious?"

Tracey grinned from ear to ear as she stepped into a vacant cubicle. Next door was a brunette woman with an incredibly slim and toned figure, firing countless shots into the head and chest of the man-shaped target. "Truthfully? Yeah."

"Damn." Xavier sighed playfully. "A'ight, I'm gonna go pick up the pieces of my shattered ego. I'll check you later. It was good seeing you again, Thommo."

Tracey shot him a smile before he turned around and disappeared into the distance. She pulled on a pair of protective goggles and popped in two noise reducing earplugs. She was ready to go.

Picking up her 9mm pistol, Tracey looked it up and down seductively as she wrapped her fingers around the trigger, squeezing slightly as she aimed it at the coming targets.

BANG. A shot rang out in the air. She flinched back as the bullet tore through the target’s chest. "Score!"

From the range next door came another bang which alarmed Tracey. It wasn't just one shot. There were numerous shots, one after the other, systematically firing shots into the head and chest of the moving target.

"Hello?" Tracey called out but was responded by six more automatic shots. She removed her earplugs and goggles, placing the 9mm pistol back on the holder, before walking into the cubicle next door.

She stood there and watched behind a brunette woman in navy blue jeans and a black tank top, the straight and flippy hair tied back tightly in a ponytail. Tracey watched impressed as the mysterious woman fired several more rounds into the coming targets, neutering each and other one.

"Impressive." She remarked as the woman removed her plugs and goggles.

"Peter!" Eve exclaimed as she whipped around. Surprised to see a woman standing before her and not the man she imagined she was firing at for the past 20 minutes. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were somebody else."

Tracey chuckled. "That's okay. Funnily enough, I know a Peter too. Maybe he's the same guy." She joked, but was met by a humourless response.

Eve grabbed the towel from the side and wiped herself down. Her neck moist and tacky from the hard sweat which ran down her back, leaving a wet patch on the back of her tank top. "I've gotta go. Sorry."

The off-duty detective stood back and blinked at the woman's incredible rudeness. She waved it off as she walked past, and watched her pull her rucksack over her shoulder and disappear out the door, without so much as looking back. Tracey put it down to being tired and worn-out. Christ knows she was too.

"I need a drink." Tracey sighed quietly to herself.

The calm and melancholy sound of Virgin State of Mind pumped through the speakers of the dreary, cigarette-smoke hazed bar.

Tracey sighed as she looked longingly into the seemingly endless bottom of her pint glass. A perfect oblivion calling her name, welcoming her to her self-made hell, entitled Self Pity.

She turned around on her stool and walked off towards an empty table in a discreet corner hidden in the shadows. It seemed fitting given the mood she was in.

Collapsing on a hard wooden chair, she leant back and sighed, taking a sip from her drink, before closing her eyes and holding her head in her hands. She had so much to think about, but couldn't due to the exact same reason. The McPherson case was going to be torment to solve. A real pain. Long and never-ending. Doesn't. Bear. Thinking. About.

Having her eyes closed, and her head lowered, she didn't notice the brunette woman standing before her, silently asking - waiting - for her to notice her and ask her to take a seat.

Coming up empty, she gave up. "Mind if I sit here?" She roused the dreary detective’s attention, who squinted at her in faint recognition before replying.

"Free country. Sort of."

Eve smiled ruefully and took a seat opposite her. "I'm Laura, by the way. I'm sorry, you know, about earlier. I was in a cranky mood. Tiredness, I guess."

The name Laura made Tracey looked at her hard. Like she hadn't heard that name a dozen times today. She looked harder, searching the woman's face. That's it. That's where she knew her from. "You're the rude girl from the range!" She remarked in recognition. "It's okay. I know the feeling."

Eve chuckled. "So what's up?"

"Nothing. Just... nothing."

"And I thought I was on a downer." Eve sighed. "Any particular reason for your new-found sullen mood? You seemed rather agitated back at the range; where'd all that go, huh?"

"Boy, and here I thought you were too busy killing the heck out of lifeless people." Tracey's eyes widened at the thought of the Rude Girl, she aptly called her in her thought, actually took notice before hand. "Work. I've been too busy, I'm just shattered now."

A smile flickered up on the side of Eve's mouth like a flame being sprayed by incandescent substances. "Same here. We should just, like, revolt against working hard. Would make things a lot easier in the long run."

"How'd you figure that?"

"I don't." She grinned slyly. "That's the point."

The detective chuckled and took another sip from her drink. "So, you know my name; what's yours?"

"Tracey."

"Pretty. I once knew a Tracey. Or rather knew of."

"You did?" Tracey blinked. Maybe she knew this chick and they just got lost along the way of their individual journeys into the real world.

"No." Eve giggled playfully. "That was me trying to strike up a conversation."

Tracey used her finger to slide her pint glass on the table in a circular form, entrancing Eve in the process, who seemed easily distracted. "That's your tactic of starting up a conversation? Wouldn't it have been easier to ask something like, 'What are you doing here?' or 'What do you do for a living' or something just as interrogative as that. You get the gist."

"Uh-huh." Eve replied half-heartedly as her eyes followed the moving glass. Tracey caught on and a mischievous smirk played across her lips.

She moved the glass faster, moving it rapidly all over the table, surprised that the stranger's gaze followed it as much as she did before tearing herself away in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What is some like you doing in a dive like this?" Tracey asked one of her examples due to the sheer fact that she was useless at making a connection. Although, in this particular case, it seemed to be going pretty well. Sort of, anyway.

"Let's just say that this bar and me have a long history." Eve smirked playfully, obviously reminiscing on the time she met Zoe McCallister, which was almost a year ago.

"Likewise." Tracey mused sullenly. "I hate this place."

A mischievous look etched across Eve's face. "Let me apologise properly for my previous rude behaviour. We could go back to your place? Or mine, whichever. But I'm warning you now; I've recently moved in, and it looks like a bomb has gone off in there-"

"-Okay." Tracey thanked the half-empty pint glass which was positioned between them in her thoughts. If it wasn't for that drink she'd never have had the courage to say yes.

"Wow!" Eve exclaimed as Tracey returned from the kitchen with two trays of takeaway. "This is better than being in a restaurant, really."

Tracey chuckled as she handed the brunette her dinner. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but is that the ever so faint whiff of sarcasm I smell?"

"Correcting you because you're wrong" Eve grinned and took the tray from Tracey and carefully resting it on the coffee table before her. "But that wasn't sarcasm. I was being serious. This is... it's nice. Thank you."

The detective smiled brilliantly and sat on the couch next to the disguised sociopath. She clinked her glass of wine with hers and took a sip as she rested her takeaway on the table. "Good. I'm glad. I'm also glad you've finally found your manners, I mean, 'thank you'? Wow. That's good."

Eve giggled into her glass and unintentionally spat her wine back in. "Now who's smelling of sarcasm?"

Tracey chuckled and quickly changed the subject. Not because she wasn't enjoying the teasing playfulness, but more as a way to avoid saying something dorky, and ruining the atmosphere. "So what do you do?"

"I'm a nurse. I used to work in the psychiatry field, but that didn't work out very well." Eve swallowed a mouthful of food. "What about you?"

"Whoa, that's awesome. You must be smart." Tracey mused, looking at her longer than necessary to reply. Please don't notice. She thought to herself before revealing what she did for a living. "I'm a detective."

"That's incredible." Eve's jaw dropped to the ground. Never would she thought that she'd become friends with a detective. "So what, do you like, shoot people and stuff?"

Tracey let out a slight chuckle at 'Laura's' sudden naivete. "Well, I have to keep you nurse gals busy, don't I?"

"And you do it so well!" Eve exclaimed. "You'd be surprised how many gunshot wound victims we have to roll to the morgue. It's kinda scary."

"Gun crime's on the rise. Also a fact." Tracey revealed. "But in all seriousness though, being a detective isn't as exiting as it sounds. If I had known I'd be doing hours of paperwork I'd never have bothered signing up for the gig."

Eve smiled as she took another sip from her drink. "Well, I'm glad you did choose such a boring job, else I wouldn't have bumped into you earlier today."

"You are?" Tracey blinked. "I... me too."

Their conversation suddenly began to die out. Neither even touching their food, only taking small sips from their drinks to wash away the dry nervousness in the back of each of their throats. They paused for a moment, as if time had froze. Both looking into each other's face, each looking for that missing something.

Eve leant forward and closed her eyes. "It's okay." She reassured her as she pressed her lips lightly against the detective's. Tracey sighed blissfully and embraced it. They kissed passionately on the sofa.

Falling back, Eve pulled Tracey on top of her, the kiss getting deeper. Tracey held the back of Eve's head, clutching at her soft, smooth hair.

"No," Eve groaned blissfully, Tracey's hand running through her hair. Her real hair. Her real, very much blonde and in fact not brunette or straight at all, curly hair. "Get up."

Tracey let go and got up, looking at her apologetically, not noticing the wig tilted off of her friend’s head. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong." Eve stood up and straightened her wig, a lock of blonde curls fell loosely from the side. "I just think it's getting late. I've got an early shift at the hospital tomorrow, I-I should go."

"Wait a minute." Tracey stood up and squinted suspiciously. Eve swallowed nervously as the detective examined her head. More noticeably, her hair. "You're wearing a wig!"

"N-No, I'm not." Eve backed away. "I've really gotta go."

Tracey pulled on the so-called brunette's hair gently as she walked off, pulling the wig from her head and holding it in her hands. "I knew it!" She exclaimed victoriously. "Turn around, I wanna see what you look like."

Eve purched the glasses up on the bridge of her nose as a last, futile attempt to hide herself. She turned around and smiled nervously.

"Take those glasses off." Tracey's tone getting less humorous by the second.

"Trace, I-"

"Take them off."

Eve reluctantly agreed and sighed. She removed her glasses and folded them, looking at Tracey apologetically. Tracey gasped. All of her fears confirmed.

"The Stalker."

1/3

[Oxidizer]

CORRUPTION

"So what are you going to do?"

Tracey and Eve rounded the table, setting their paper cups of coffee on the glass, as they sat opposite each other inside at a discreet corner in Starbucks. Tracey sighed and ran her hand threw her hair. "I don't know. I should be turning you in."

"Is that what you're going to do?" Eve took a sip from her coffee. Not because she was thirsty but to hide the nervousness that made her swallow hardly. Her freedom was in this woman - this stranger's - hands.

"I don't know." She looked at the woman sat in front of her - examining every detail in her face. She didn't look like a threat, but appearances are deceptive. Tracey, of all people, knew that. She had to in her line of work. So what made Eve so different? She had read the case files, the stories Peter and Claire shared around the office when they returned from Summer Bay about the stalker - the very woman she was enjoying the luxuries of having coffee with. Eve could've killed her the moment her identity was revealed, but she didn't. Tracey's job was to arrest the dangerous from the civil, Eve seemed more civil than most people on the streets; she was dangerous, not anymore. Not around Tracey anyway. "Yet."

Eve looked around the café to avoid eye contact which would only turn into awkwardness between the two. Her eyes widened when she caught a glimpse of a missing persons poster on the wall; it was Laura McPherson.

"Is there a problem?" Tracey followed Eve's attentive stare.

"Do you know about her?" Eve asked blankly, her eyes fixed to the photograph of the supposedly missing woman. "I mean, at HQ, have you been told about her?"

Tracey looked on in concern. "Yeah, I was assigned on her case the day we met. Why, do you know her?"

"You could say that," Eve mused sullenly. "Whose body do you think they recovered at the tyre factory? It sure as hell wasn't mine."

"For Christ's sake!" Tracey exclaimed as quietly as she could given that they're both in a very public place and the last thing she needed was attention drawn their way. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"No." Eve pondered. "Nothing that comes straight to mind anyway."

Tracey got up from the table and sighed. She picked up her bag and pulled the strap over her shoulder agitatedly.

Eve looked up at her and shot her a concerned look. "Where are you going?"

"To make sure you stay dead."

Tracey made her hasty exit, leaving Eve and a state of confusion. She shrugged it off and took a sip from her coffee, leaning back in her seat comfortably as she looked up at Laura McPherson's mugshot pinned to the wall opposite her. A rueful stare aimed at the poster.

The glow from the flat-top monitor illuminated the darkly lit office block, the computer screen reflected in crystalline green eyes. The mugshots of Eve Jacobsen and Laura McPherson prominent.

She continued to type, switching information from each of the files and transferring it over to the other, altering what happened; Laura's dental records were Eve's, the date of her disappearance was edited three weeks later than known. With her family being away at the time, no-one would know any different.

"What are you doing in here?" A familiar voice roused Tracey's attention. She jumped backwards a fraction and whipped her head around to investigate. Standing before her with a cynical glare was Detective Keller.

"Callan." Tracey swallowed nervously. "I found a new lead on the McPherson case, I was just typing it up before I forgot. I was just about to go."

He leaned forward and looked at the screen over her should. "Eve Jacobsen? Isn't she the Summer Bay stalker?" Callan frowned in distaste. "What has she got to do with Laura's disappearance?"

"Nothing!" Tracey exclaimed defensively. Her tone raised suspiciously prompting the youthful detective before her to pick up his feet on the verge of turning around and making a quick exit. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to talk to Amanda, you know more about this case than you're letting on, Thompson."

Tracey roused from her chair and squinted challengingly. "That's Senior Detective Thompson to you, and if I remember correctly; you're just a detective - so get out of my face. I know what I'm doing."

"And that's what's worrying," Callan sneered. "You're up to something; you should be involving me. Donovan assigned me on the case too, you know. We're supposed to be working together."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off. I'm finished now anyway, don't mention this to Amanda. Please?”

"Why not? What's up with you, Tracey?"

"Nothing," She halfheartedly reassured. "It's just not a very good lead, I don't want the boss to fuss when it could be nothing."

Tracey closed the windows, a relieved sigh escaped her mouth as she examined the files one last time; everything was switched that needed to be. She logged off and switched the computer off.

"Nothing? I've just seen you with files on the Summer Bay stalker; a serial killer who's known to have abducted people before to make her escape." Callan scoffed. "That isn't nothing, Tracey, and first thing tomorrow, I'm telling Amanda."

"I'm sorry," Tracey vowed sullenly.

Callan smiled a rueful reassurance. "Don't worry about it, I doubt she'd be mad; I mean, its not like you were deleting classified information or anything."

"No," Tracey picked up her paperweight from her desk. "I'm sorry for this-"

His eyes widened as she brought it crashing down on his head, within a fraction of a second his consciousness - and possibly his life - was wiped from his being.

She wiped it clean with a tissue she tore from the box on her desk and erased any fingerprints which could link her to the GBH she had just committed before collecting her things and rushing out of the office.

The bleeping sound of car doors being unlocked rebounded from the walls and echoed around the UV-lit car park. The night skies outside made the concrete structure beam.

Eve crouched in the detective's car and closed the door on behind her. "What's up?"

"I hope you know what I did for you," Tracey griped. "You're safe. As far as the world's concerned, you're officially dead.”

"What?" Eve looked at her in concern. "Trace, what are you talking about?"

"All you need to know is that you don't have to wear that disguise anymore, I switched Laura's records with yours; you're a ghost. So I guess you don't need me no more."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Eve exclaimed sadly. "You really think that's all I wanted from you? That I'd use you like that?"

Tracey sighed and looked up at her. Her mascara beginning to run from the crimes she committed just by altering simple information on a database. "Isn't it?"

"No! Of course not. How could you even think that?"

Eve watched on in concern as Tracey held her head in her hands and began to weep uncontrollably. Clumps of brunette hair clutched in two bitter fists. "Trace, what's goin' on with you? What's happened?"

"I killed someone, Eve!" Tracey snapped and glared at her through blurred vision. "I killed someone because I was protecting you. Because of you."

"Oh my god, are you sure? I-I mean, what'd you do?" Eve's stammered words slowing down at a more steady pace. "Who?"

"What's it to you? You don't care."

Eve scoffed. "Well, you've made it more than clear that I'm responsible for yet another death, the least you could do is tell me who the hell it was!"

"It was a colleague; Detective Callan Keller, city HQ." Tracey scorned sullenly. "Happy now?"

She didn't think that she'd take it literal but Eve's hysterical laughter stunned Tracey. "What's so funny? I killed a man!"

Eve shook her head and sighed. "Oh, Tracey, you do panic easily. This wouldn't be the same Callan Keller that was brought into surgery this evening with severe concusion would it?"

"You mean he's not dead?” Tracey looked up with a glimmer of hope. "I didn't kill him?"

"Nope, but he won't he up and about for a few months at least, unless he's a sleep walker." Eve paused to ponder. "Do coma patients sleep walk?"

"He's in a coma?"

"Yeah," Eve waved it off. "Anyway, this just brings us even closer; I mean, we've got yet another thing in common now, besides being isolated lesbians who frequent incredibly dreary bars and shooting ranges."

"What are you talking about? What makes us closer?"

"I knew someone else who smacked a detective into a coma," Tracey's blank response made Eve chuckle and clarify. "First name begins with Sarah, second Lewis? Ring any bells?"

Tracey didn't know how she could after what she did but for the first time that week she laughed. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Uh-huh."

Eve sighed blissfully when Tracey wrapped her arms around her waist and snuggled in safely. "Are you sure he's going to be okay? I mean, I haven't hurt him badly have I?"

"You mean brain damage? No," Eve reassured her. "Other than losing his consciousness and lying in a bed for the next three months, you haven't done any damage. Maybe a bruise to the left side of his forehead, but nothing a bandage won't hide."

"Thank you."

"For telling you the amount of damage you didn't afflict on your first potential murder victim? Don't mention it."

Tracey chuckled and squeezed tighter. "For making me feel good even when I'm at my worst. I've never felt like this before. Never."

Eve ran her hand through the brunette's hair. "I know the feeling, I mean, I've been with someone before, obviously; Kim Hyde being a the biggest regret of the year, but I've never felt the way I do around you."

"How'd you mean?"

"I've never told anyone about what’s going on inside, the things I've done; apart from with Sarah, but even then I purposely left out details about my grandparents and the rabbit. I just didn't want her to hate me." Eve explained whilst her deep stare fixed to the skyline outside. "I know she lied to me now, because I did too."

Tracey looked up at her. "Are you saying that you knew Sarah never loved you? That she was using you?"

"After Kim, I did. After Kim everything was clear." Eve revealed in a weak voice. "I told myself that she loved me because I loved her. I wanted her to feel the same like with Kim but they just didn't. They couldn't."

"Well, I love you." Tracey whispered tiredly with dead certainty.

Eve looked down at her and smiled with teary eyes. "For real?"

"For real. You make me feel alive, you make me smile; I don't have to pretend when I'm with you. And besides, I wouldn't go whacking people into comas for the hell of it, even Callan, who, at the best of times, is a prick anyway."

The apparent dead girl smiled uncontrollably as she kissed the brunette's head. Suddenly she felt whole. Complete.

Tracey looked up and frowned in concern at the red marks on Eve's stomach as her tank top revealed her lower torso. "What happened? How did you...?"

Eve looked down at her scar and traced her eyes back on Tracey. A smirk played across her lips.

The hot rush of ignited gas exploded upwards into the feedroom. Eve forced backwards into a corner as the steel door blew inwards, shielding her from the initial blast, and scalding her in the process.

She let out an agonized scream as she pushed the door off of her, the skin from her stomach that fused to the scalding metal tore from her body, her cyan tank top burnt away, revealing a bleeding sore.

Eve pushed herself up from the ground and crawled passed the charred and blackened remains of Laura McPherson who was now in a destroyed skeletal form.

"She saved me."

2/3

[Oxidizer]

REVENGE

Gliding out of the darkly lit room where she just tended to the last patient of her shift, Eve scuffed her feet to a stop at the bottom of the corridor. Tracey was standing by the window - the city lights illuminated the streets below.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Eve raised an eyebrow quizzically. Tracey whipped out her flip-open cell phone and activated the camera. "Even Peter's not dumb enough to fall for this."

"Well, you said people were staring at you a lot; maybe they were beginning to recognize you without your disguise on?"

Eve exhaled deeply. "Fine. Go on. Do whatever it is you're going to do."

"A little enthusiasm wouldn't go a miss, you know." Tracey snarked.

"Trust me, I'm enthused. But not about this." Eve winked.

Tracey fought back her potential blushes and shooed Eve further down the corridor with her phone. "Okay, run around the corner and I'll take a shot of it. That should be enough proof to convince Peter you're still alive."

Eve giggled maniacally. She couldn't believe what she was doing. "Rawr!"

Tracey shot her head up and laughed. "Take it seriously! That was a good shot until you started laughing."

"Okay, okay." Eve braced herself. She ran down the corridor, deliberately turning around to look over her shoulder, giving Tracey a chance to snap it. Perfect. Mission accomplished.

Eve took long strides back towards Tracey and stood at her side, leaning on her shoulder and looking at the snapshot she took. "Wow, that actually looks pretty convincing. Go Team Stalker."

Tracey grinned. "Told you it would. Now smile."

"What for?" Eve chuckled in confusion as Tracey held the phone up in front of them. Grins plastered across the plastic screen as she clicked the appropriate button.

"Screensaver." Tracey revealed as she examined the shot. It was pretty good considering she couldn't see what she was taking a photo of. Their closeness brought out by the city's glow behind glistening windows.

Tracey plugged the phone to the laptop and wired everything up. Eve stood engrossed behind her, munching on cookies. Crumbs fell all over Tracey's shirt. "I hope you're going to wipe those off once you've finished. And don't eat too many, dinner'll be ready once I've sent this."

Eve looked at the cookie before stuffing the whole thing minus a bite in her mouth. She looked around coyly as if people were watching her before shrugging it off. "Okay," She said with her mouth full, more crumbs falling on Tracey's shoulders, making her roll her eyes.

"In just a couple of minutes, Peter will know you're still alive." Tracey looked up at her. "Are you sure you want to do this? We could stay here; have a life together. Once its sent there's no going back."

"Do it. There's absolutely no way we can have a life together until I've moved on. Sarah deserves closure."

Tracey sighed. Her fingers hovered over the send button as she re-read the e-mail. The snapshot from the phone was attached.

T.T.

I know you're currently in Summer Bay due to the recent cyclone but I needed to talk to you about this. Some evidence regarding the Stalker case has come to light.

I saw Zoe at the hospital last night. I don't know how she could still be alive - but she is.

I managed to take a quick shot of her when she ran away. She did this because I approached her; she panicked and fled. All the proof you need to know that she's still out there is in this attachment. It's photographic evidence.

I strongly recommend that you show this to no-one. We should keep this in house, at least until we figure out what to do.

"Wow." Eve deadpanned. "So this is how you detective types work, huh?"

Tracey shot her an unamused look before looking down at her hand. It was hovering over the mouse shakily, hesitant as to whether or not she should send it.

Eve rolled her eyes and sighed. Pushing Tracey's hand from the mouse, she clicked send. That was it. No turning back.

"Eve!" Tracey exclaimed as she leaped up from the chair.

The sociopath shrugged. "Dinner's getting cold. What else was I supposed to do?"

Tracey sighed. "You should've at least slept on it."

"You know when we go to bed there's hardly any sleeping." Eve giggled. "Or thinking for that matter."

"Eve, I'm serious." Tracey looked at her in concern. "You should think things through before you carry them out. You live too dangerously."

Eve snapped. "And it's exciting! Besides, I do think things through. All the time. It was always my plan to return to Summer Bay after I escape the explosion. That wasn't the end - just a commercial break."

Tracey chuckled at her girlfriend's playfulness. "Let's just eat. I'm starving, and judging by the way you munched those cookies; which reminds me-" She brushed the crumbs from her shoulder. "-You are too."

Epilogue

The headlights from an approaching car came to a gradual halt along side a sign reading Welcome to Summer Bay.

Out stepped two feet, brandishing DMs. The navy blue of her jeans glowed in the dark due to the brightness emanating from the parked car. Eve placed her hands on her hips and sighed as she examined the sign. It was here Zoe McCallister died.

A smirk played across her lips as she turned around to face her girlfriend.

Tracey rounded the vehicle until she stopped at the boot. Eve walked back to her until she was stood at her side. Opening the boot of the car, Tracey and Eve looked down at the body they had stuffed inside. It was Senior Detective Claire Brody, a lethal-looking head wound to her forehead, which looked suspiciously like a gunshot wound. Her body was wrapped in clean-film, her eyes open and fixed.

Eve closed the boot as Tracey's attentive glare stayed attuned to her ex-colleague. Her head to a tilt and her eyes blank. Eve sat on the closed boot and kicked her legs playfully. "I think you're going to like it here."

3/3

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