Umbry searched desperately through the boxes in the corner of her office, rifling through unimportant documents and old cases. There was something she was looking for – she couldn’t really pinpoint it right now – but she knew she had to find it. As she sat on the floor, the messy piles of folders surrounding her gradually rose into a fortress of paper, and her legs started to fall asleep under her. Still she looked, meticulously searching every page for the word that she couldn’t recall.
There was a knock on the door and Clay came in, scowling at the wall of folders that surrounded her. From where he stood only her head was visible. Right now she was looking through a document of one of their older cases, from when they were still big shots in the business. “Hello, Clay,” she said plainly, not even glancing up from the document. She flipped through the pages and finally placed it down on top of one of the many piles.
“You’re a fast reader,” he remarked, watching as her eyes quickly scanned through another collection of documents as if she were flipping photos. She nodded, putting the papers back in their folder, set it down next to her, and picked up yet another folder. He took a seat on the computer chair and watched her for a while.
“I’m getting closer, so I won’t be long,” she said quietly, putting another folder down on the top of the collection. “What do you need?”
“Francesca and I will be going to visit Lindsay soon. I was wondering if you wanted to come.”
“And Julia?”
He smiled. “Sleeping like a baby.”
Umbry sighed. “What a strange girl. She always hated sleeping for some reason, but she could never escape it. Anyway…”
“Why did she hate it?”
“How should I know?” She took a large folder full of papers and began scanning through the pictures and words – crime scene photos, descriptions of the murder and witness testimonies. “I don’t know anything close to everything about her. That’s why we can be partners, Clay.”
“Well if you’ve always known each other, I’d expect you to at least know why she hates sleeping…”
“She used to have nightmares about something. I don’t know what, but it seems like she forces herself not to sleep just to escape those.”
Clay looked down at one of the photos. “I know the feeling,” he muttered.
“What did you say?” She looked up at him, setting down the papers to take a break.
“Nothing.”
She sighed.
“Clay,” she began, unsure of exactly the tone she would use, “I don’t think Julia and I are the only ones involved in… whatever this is. I mean, as far as I know Francesca isn’t involved, but you have a box.” She paused. “The earth box.”
Something bubbled up in her head just then, as if there was a shift deep inside her mind. “Julia and I are the sun and the moon, respectively. And you, your last name is Terransky. Terra means Earth. To say nothing of your first name. And Frederick White sent you that box, right? Maybe he gave that box to us because he knew it was like us. Did he… know us? And not just because he was a suspect in a case? I can’t recall exactly… augh!” The fort of folders around her collapsed as she fell on her side. Clay caught her and she gripped onto his chest. “Umbry, are you okay?”
There was a pause, and then she relaxed. “I don’t know. I just… I can’t think right now. I need to take a break.” She rubbed her temples and there was a long silence. Clay didn’t let go of her.
“Umbry, that eye of yours. That one that no one sees.” He looked at her.
“What about it?” She asked, touching the long strands of hair that covered it.
“What does it look like?” They looked at each other, their faces extremely close. “Maybe if you let someone see, you’d be able to remember those secrets… and I am the Earth, aren’t I?”
Umbry’s heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings, and her hands shook. Finally, she pushed herself away before anything could happen. “Clay, I can’t.” She stood up, a little dizzy from the headache. “I have to go.”
“I’m sorry.”
She didn’t reply.
“Umbry, I’m–”
“You can’t do it either, can you?” She looked back at him from the light of the door. “Whatever things Julia and I can’t remember, we’re not the only ones. There’s something you’re holding back, too.”
“…How did you know?”
“I looked up your record, Clay. I know about her.”
Neither of them said anything after that.
Umbry took a breath in and tried to say something, but she found herself at a loss for words, so she simply left the room and closed the door, and Clay could hear her footsteps as she walked up the stairs to their apartment and climbed into her bed. His fists were clenched, and he was biting his lip so much that it bled a little into his mouth. He swallowed the blood and stood up, straightening his jacket, and looked down once more at the piles of folders strewn about the floor. The case she had been looking at – the thickest folder – was the case in which Frederick had been a suspect. One of the photos showed Julia and Umbry themselves, younger back then – perhaps 14 or 15 – but still with hair covering one eye each. They were watching as Frederick was being arrested. They looked panicked and defiant, and perhaps a little sad.
Clay took the picture and placed it in his pocket.