Beached Zombie || Morgan & Jane
TIMING: Present! PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems + @jane-the-zombie SUMMARY: “i just want you guys know Meri has spent at least half of this jane chatzy going ‘mOrGANN’” - Kat. OR Jane finds an undead body on the beach. Discoveries were made.
Morgan didn’t sleep. The heavy, cotton-covered oblivion she was used to falling into when she reached her lowest lows no longer came for her at night, no matter how still she lay or how long she kept her eyes shut against the dark. There was only so long she could try to make her dead chest match Deirdre’s breathing, only so many times she could lay down at the bottom of the pool and reach for that memory in Karen’s backyard of being still in a way that was okay. And the grass, sometimes, was too prickly--or at least, Morgan remembered the grass being prickly too well to rest in it. And so she would walk elsewhere, at night to pass the time, or the hours during the day that had to be marked somehow. So sometimes, Morgan went out. Sometimes just to the streets around Deirdre’s neighborhood. Today, the beach. With her body plastered to the cooling sand as evening came, and the tide barely kissing her at all as it withdrew. She remembered how she’d been held here the last time she’d visited: their first date to see the sunrise, and the stories she’d read aloud and the sand in her hair when they rolled to the ground kissing like they had just invented it. She remembered Galveston and the pungent smell of the salty sea, the brine on her skin. She’d fallen asleep like that so often, cradled and contentedly nowhere. If she was still enough for long enough, would she find her way back to that? Could something stick to her long enough to take her there, or somewhere else.
Morgan spotted a runner out of her dead, unblinking eye and thought about sighing as they came to a stop, looming over her. She waited, drooping inside with disappointment, and waited until their hand was hovering just over her body. “Boo!” She deadpanned.
Jane almost fell flat on her face when she saw the body during her evening run. She was too hungover for this. Days where she wasn’t working or practicing some “new extreme sport” were usually spent bar hopping and having fun that way. She was too old to bar hop - god she missed it when bartenders didn’t recognize all their customers. Really, she was missing not being in a small town. Portland was the farthest thing from the largest city in the world, but there were more things to do, at least. The only thing keeping her from trying to transfer again was the fact she just signed her lease and cases here were interesting. Jane almost felt a little bad lamenting her own situation while approaching a goddamn dead body. Clearly other people had it worse. Other people actually died when something happened to them. Jane cursed as she skidded to a stop near the body, quickly doing once over. Definitely dead, or close to it. Damn. She was going to be here all day processing the scene. Who dumped a fucking body on the beach? The woman didn't look like she had washed up. She had already sank to her knees, one hand reaching for her phone, the other going to check the pulse - “Boo.” Jane let out a noise somewhere between a shriek and a loud expletive, falling backward onto her ass. Her eyes narrowed. Her first thought went to public disturbance, but she wasn’t really in the mood to work in the first place. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Jane snapped. “Get up.”
Morgan stayed death still as the woman toppled. She was curious in some new, morbid way whether or not the woman would think she had imagined the whole thing. One of those ooo-woo coincidences/hallucinations/hypotheticals that just couldn’t be anything so stupid and sad as, woops this girl died but she’s still here and kinda broken. This bitter thought gave Morgan a new idea. She waited a few more moments, just in case doubt would set in, then she flopped up to a sit and reached out for the woman’s arm for an assist. As she staggered to her feet, pulling herself up, Morgan twisted as hard as she could until her shoulder came loose. It wasn’t hard. All she had to do was forget the shoulder was hers and forget the idea of hurt. There was a dull ache in the spot where the bones had come loose, she didn’t feel nothing, but if she were herself, if she were alive, she would have been screaming. “Oh, gee…” she deadpanned. “Ow.”
Despite herself, Jane reached to help the woman up. “Honestly, I was about four seconds away from calling in a dead - What are you doing?!” Jane’s voice raised in half panic and exasperation as she let the woman go. “Are you insane?!” There was a time when Jane dislocated her shoulder at a rock climbing gym, and even in all her adrenaline filled bullshit, that still hurt like hell and she had a half a fit about it while getting loaded into the ambulance. “Are you - Are you not in any pain?” Her face twisted in confusion, staring at the woman like she had three heads. The deadpanned ow… Was she on something? Drugs? No, she showed no signs of that. Her eyes narrowed and she had half a mind to twist her arm back herself. “We need to put your arm back.” Unless she was driving yet another person to the emergency room.
“What do you think I am?” Morgan asked. She shook her arm free of the woman’s grap and looked at it dangling from its socket. She poked it until it swung like a pendulum at her side. Her muscles strained at being pushed in this way and the ache was so close to sharp it was almost pleasant. Morgan approximated how her shoulder ought to belong and pulled it back in place, tested her work with a stretch, and waggled her fingers in front of the woman as if to prove everything was fine now. “Guess that's the problem solved,” she said, a forced hollow cheer in her voice. “Do you need something to feel good about this, or are we done here?”
There was a sort of morbid curiosity in watching the woman work her shoulder. Jane almost winced sympathetically, but the words what do you think I am were lodged directly in her brain. “What do I think you are?” Jane repeated, raising an eyebrow. Memories of Jason showing her how his bones didn’t break and how things like chopping off a wrist or two didn’t hurt. Actually, she was fairly certain Jason never felt pain - not really, anyhow. She was hesitant to bring that up though, until her shoulder was properly - oh. Jane was going to offer to set it herself. “Are we done here?” Jane repeated, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, we’re not done here. First of all, do you think it’s funny laying there pretending to be dead? Because it isn’t. And second… Can I check your pulse, please?”
“Who says I was pretending?” Morgan replied darkly. “And who are you supposed to be, exactly? I’m pretty sure I don’t owe anything to some woman off the street. I didn’t ask for your help with anything. You interrupted my nap.” She grimaced at the thought. If only she could nap. If she could take a break from everything for even just an hour, no haze, no hunger, no death blanket. She deflated, tired, in her own way, and ready to be home. Whatever she had wanted to find here, it wasn’t going to turn up today. “And it was kind of funny,” she added sheepishly.
“What do you mean?” Jane said, quickly. Jason had insisted that he was dead even though she couldn’t really see how. He was a functioning human, and suddenly his diet made way more sense than it had during the time they had been together. “You were the one playing a bad joke, and I could very well -” What, arrest her? Public disturbance. Get a slap on the wrist and she’d be out by dinner time. That was an abuse of power and way too much fucking work though. And more importantly, Jane tilted her head slightly. “ - anyway. Are you dead, then? A zombie? Is that what you’re saying?”
“You’re avoiding my question, and I don’t think there’s anything against laying on the sand before dark,” Morgan said with a huff. She backed away from the woman, arms folded over her chest. “I’m--I’m a what now?” She laughed, shrill and nervous in a way that she really, really hoped sounded more incredulous. Ha-ha-ha-the-very-IDEA and l-o-l-that’s not REAL! “I’m sorry, what now? You--obviously watch way too many movies. Where would you even come up with something like that, huh?” It was a good thing, at least, that the dead didn’t sweat, because as she scrutinized the jogger, she couldn’t help but feel like she had pushed too hard to seem convincing now.
“Jane Wu. New in town. Police detective.” Jane said, folding her arms over her chest as she stared at Morgan as she started laughing that unconvincing laugh. The kind of laugh that screamed hahahaha I’m definitely not guilty!!! Don’t look at me!!! That kind of laugh. She was now more certain that she was right. That she just found someone else that wasn’t her shitty ex that was like this. Jane held up her hands, defensively. “Whoa, it’s alright, you can save the song and dance.” She reached up moving her hair to show the bite scar on her neck. “See? I’ve uh, met others like you. Clearly. That can do that thing with your arm. And I bet you have no pulse too. Am I correct?”
Oh, stars. A cop. Morgan grimaced and stepped further away again. This was the last person she needed looking into her life. Between the dead magic and living with Deirdre, and toppling into undeath thanks to her best friend, Morgan had plenty to hide. But that, as it turned out, was not her main concern. Jane moved back her hair and revealed a wide scar in the blurry shape of a mouth on her neck. Morgan’s facade fell and she slowly lifted the cuff on her wrist. Their scars weren’t the same, exactly, but there were mottled impressions of human-like teeth, the same hungry shape. “But you’re…” Acting pretty normal. Breathing. She grabbed Jane’s wrist and pressed down hard, searching for a pulse of her own. “A-are you breathing just for the fun of it or what? Are you--not dead yet? How do you know all this then?”
Jane curiously peered at Morgan’s wris. Sure enough, there was the bite mark scarred onto her skin. Jason’s had been on his leg. He never did tell her how he was turned or how he died. HE didn’t tell her a lot of things. Morgan snatched her wrist, pressing down hard on her wrist to find a pulse. “Ouch!” Jane hissed, trying to yank her hand back. “Hey, easy! Use my neck if you want to feel my pulse it’s easier. No, I’m not dead yet. The person that bit me didn’t mean too.” She said, backing up slightly. “He freaked out and told me about it. And showed me.” And then she dumped his ass for good, but that seemed a little too personal. “What’s your name? How long have you been… like this?”
Morgan let go and folded her arms again, guilty for real now. She hadn’t thought she was pressing hard enough to hurt, but there was a red mark on Jane’s skin where her thumb had been, and for all she knew it would be bruising up by the end of the day. “Didn’t--didn’t mean to? What do you mean he didn’t mean to? How do you ‘accidentally’ do this?” Even Remmy who ‘hadn’t meant to’ had still very much meant to. Teeth breaking skin was no joke on the effort-meter. “I’m...Morgan,” she said quietly. “Were you called onto the scene of that crash on Main Street? Some of the debris…” She touched her stomach, remembering the pain. “Someone was with me and they...did this.” She went stiff. Remmy wasn’t something she wanted to think about right now. “I’m sorry about your wrist. I don’t...feel right. I didn’t mean for it to hurt. I...couldn’t tell.”
Jane ran a hand down her face, shaking her head. “It’s - we were - he lost control, for a second, I guess. We were in a relationship.” Jane tried not to think about it, really, it was easier not too. Focusing on living forever and knowing that she could enjoy every ounce of the adrenaline without the fear of death was easier. She wanted that far more than she wanted to be bitter over some spilt relationship. She shook the thoughts off, listening to Morgan, and her heart sank. “No, I wasn’t called to that crash.” That awful crash on Main Street had turned Morgan into this at the last moment. Morgan wasn’t taking it well at all. Jane pressed her lips together in a thin line before waving it off her wrist. “Don’t worry about my wrist, I’ve certainly had worse. You… don’t sound happy. I’m sorry that… this happened to you. If it wasn’t what you wanted.”
“You mean during sex,” Morgan said, her face falling. She hadn’t even thought about that. She’d been too depressed and afraid of Deirdre realizing how different she was to worry about sex. But if Deirdre did somehow want her still or if she did dig up the rest of herself and come back, there was going to be sex. Sex where she might somehow bite her, hurt her with something worse than a bruise that healed in a matter of hours. “Oh-my-god, he bit you during sex, didn’t he. Had he not eaten? Were you doing--I don’t know, other biting type things? Or--” Morgan stopped herself before she got carried away and covered her face, mortified. This was probably not something Jane wanted to talk about. She could only imagine how frightening it must have been. But-- “No,” she said, lowering her hands to look at Jane with disgust. “No I am not happy. And what do you mean ‘if’? Did your boyfriend not explain everything to you? Who would want this? No one should want this!”
“He didn’t exactly explain that bit, it’s a bit of a story,” Jane said, rubbing the spot on her neck. She didn’t get a chance to tell Morgan that everything had been fine until there was blood everywhere, but that was a whole long story. Jane hadn’t even been that bothered, other than trying to stop the bleeding. She’d been laughing at him because he was freaking out. But Morgan’s face turned to disgust, and she realized that she had said the wrong thing to Morgan. Crap. She held her hands up slightly, taking a step back to give her enough space. “He explained everything. I made him. Explain it to me, I mean,” Jane said. She needed to be careful not to upset Morgan - after all, she just died. And she clearly hadn’t wanted to become a zombie to begin with, nor did she have the time to process it like she did. “I’ve accepted what’s going to happen to me when I inevitably die. I -” Jane lowered her hands, cutting herself off with a slight shrug. “I’m going to live forever.”
Morgan stepped away from Jane. She didn’t know if she was insulted or outraged or afraid for her. It was the most feeling she’d had since she died and she didn’t know what to do with it. “I hope you dumped his ass because that is not what this is,” she said. “What, you think this is Twilight for the Walking Dead? This isn’t about forever, Jane. This is death! Have you seen a dead body? That is what we are! I hurt you, Jane, because I can’t feel anything! My death is so thick around me, it’s like I’m being smothered by a goddamn comforter. I can’t even find half the person I used to be right now and I haven’t slept since a fucking rod went through my abdomen and impaled me on the ground. Can you seriously tell me you’ve thought about what it might take to miss something that awful? You don’t know anything. I hope you’re a lot older than me when you do.” She turned away and started up the shore.
Jane wasn’t sure if she should follow Morgan, she seemed fairly angry about the whole thing. Understandable, because this wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t have the time to decide if that’s what she wanted. After a moment's hesitation, Jane followed up the shore. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That it happened to you.” That’s all there really was to say, though she was certain Morgan didn’t want to hear it. Most didn’t after something bad happened to them. “And you’re right to be angry. You should be. It’s just that I’ve - I’ve done my grieving over what’s to come. It’s been a while since this happened to me.” Hell, if living forever - being around to see how everything changed? That took sacrifice. And it was a sacrifice she was willing to make - well, it was a sacrifice she had no choice in making anymore. Why bother denying the inevitable? Jane patted her pockets for a second. “Hey, wait a second.” Jane asked, catching up. She found one of her cards, and held it out. “It’s my card. If you want to talk more about this... not on a beach after you’ve played a prank on me. Or anything else.”
Morgan stopped at Jane’s call and turned over her shoulder. She took the card and squeezed it between her fingers. She didn’t know if she wanted anything from her or if talking to someone who thought this was all somehow going to be okay would help her feel any better. But she could bring herself to turn the offer away. And-- “Okay, I know I just yelled, but what about the sex thing?” She mumbled, embarrassed at how callous the fixation sounded out loud. “Can we talk about that later too?”
She gave her card to a lot of people - particularly those she knew were going to need more help later. Victims of assault, robberies, etc… This was a little different, but Jane could at least recognize that someone was struggling. “It’s alright that you yelled,” Jane said, shrugging slightly as she stuffed her hands into her pockets. Her eyebrow furrowed slightly. Sex? She wanted to talk about sex? Like in general or to her specific incident. Dear lord. “I - Yes. Of course we can talk about the sex thing,” Jane said carefully. “Contact me any time, I always have my phone on me and I’ll always make time.” She paused for a moment, before adding.” And for the record, I did. Break up with him.”