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femslash february | day 25: nyssa and laurel, canon continuation. nyssa revives laurel in the lazarus pit- but after being gone for so long, laurel returns to life with no memory of who she was or where she came from. to keep her safe from the life of a vigilante, nyssa quietly sets up a life for laurel (now a jane doe) in coast city- and keeps an eye on her. for now, the secret is hers and hers alone, but as much as she loves laurel, she can’t protect her forever... --

Nyssa watches the light play off of Laurel’s hair, coming from the large storefront glass windows. She internally chides herself- If she keeps thinking of her as Laurel, she’ll slip up and say it. She’s not not Laurel, not the doppleganger, but she wonders if this is worse, if she’s made another mistake, another blemish on Laurel’s undeserving reputation.

She could’ve been faster. She could’ve been more clever, but after Sara, after all of that mess, she’d told herself it was wrong, told them there was only one pit, and everyone had bought it-

But lies are lies. And she’s never been as good at it as she pretends. Good enough that anyone else would be fooled- Not good enough that she will one day believe herself./

“You’ve been by every morning,” Laurel says, topping off Nyssa’s coffee. Her apron has her little notepad in it, looped loosely around her hips. It’s not an attorney, it’s not a vigilante, but it’s safe and that’s what matters- Nyssa covers most of Laurel’s bills, not that Laurel knows, not that anyone will ever know, but it’s her name on the building and on the apartment. “Did you just move in?”

Nyssa runs her tongue against her gums and purses her lips, finally saying, “No, I’m just visiting.”

“Family?” Laurel asks.

“A friend,” Nyssa says.

“That’s so sweet,” Laurel says. “Why haven’t you brought them in?”

“They’re not an early riser,” Nyssa says. “I always am.”

“Try to get them up, then,” Laurel says. “I’d be nice to see who you hang out with, Ms. Mysterious.”

She’s flirting, and it’s innocent and sweet and nothing like it used to be, and she believes Nyssa because everyone does, everyone but-

“You think I’m mysterious?” Nyssa asks.

“Isn’t that what you’re going for?” Laurel asks.

Nyssa looks away, giving a small smile, a sign of affection. She has to look down, and her reflection greets her in her cup of black coffee.

She can’t live here. She can’t move in to Coast City. Someone will come looking for her, and they will find Laurel, and then she will be gone again. And the superstitious part of Nyssa, the part of her smart enough to fear magic, thinks that maybe the pit is saying something to her. That if Laurel doesn’t remember that she is not meant to remember, that she is safest and happiest this way.

If that is true, and Nyssa half feels it is and half feels it isn’t, then she is risking remembrance, if she stays around and in sight for too long.

And remembrance, like recognition, puts her in danger.

“Can I get you something else?” Laurel asks, reappearing with a pen.

“Just the omelette,” Nyssa says. She nibbles her lip. “When does your shift end?”

Laurel smiles at her, tapping her pen along her notepad. “Three.”

Her nametag says Jane, and she is that, a Jane Doe, a no-name, a mystery, even to herself.

“Three, then,” Nyssa says, and she watches the familiar sweep of Laurel’s hair over her shoulders as she walks away.

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