Chapter 19: Shadows

"What are we supposed to see here?" I asked, squinting at the monitor. A grainy black-and-white image of a brain with colored, glowing pathways lit up on the screen. It looked like a futuristic road map.

Katherine Winters sat behind her desk, her fingers steepled, a look of intense concentration on her face. She pointed at the screen with a pen. "Look at this. Right here. See how these neural pathways… warp?" She changed the image, fast-forwarding, frame by frame. "That's the transfer. Your wife, entering and exiting the host."

I tried to stay focused, Emma's left hand tracing patterns on my thigh beneath the desk. "So you got it? You got what you need?"

The scientist snorted and shook her head, her short red hair shimmering under the fluorescent lights. "I got shit!"

Her office was small and sterile, a chaotic mess of books, papers, and expensive-looking equipment, hidden from the rest of the hospital by large frosted glass windows that didn't quite reach the ceiling.

The woman sitting next to me, Emma's current host, Katherine's guinea pig, was a young waitress named Kelly who'd signed up for the study, lured by a generous compensation for a few hours every Saturday. It was the fourth time she'd served as host for us, though she had no memory of the previous times, and would not remember this one either.

She was pretty cute in a girl-next-door kind of way. Blonde hair, a few freckles, and a friendly, open face. She wasn't very patient, clearly, and not the brightest bulb in the box, but she was perfect for our purposes. A little bored, a little restless, but mostly harmless.

The problem with a simple and bored host, though, was how easy it was for her to get distracted and succumb to Emma's basic urges. Her right hand was moving higher, her fingers brushing against my zipper. There was no way Katherine didn't notice from her spot across the desk, but if she did, she didn't say a thing.

Emma would switch back and forth between her and Katherine, Kelly's brain and body subjected to a thorough examination every time.

"I'm seeing all the effects of the possession, but the cause is still a mystery," the scientist said, her frustration growing. "This looks a lot like what you'd capture scanning the brain of a patient with dissociative identity disorder."

"That's something..." I offered, trying my best to ignore the teasing from under the desk.

"Yes, but it doesn't explain how the consciousness travels from one body to another, or how it recharges. Or why it needs sexual climax from you specifically to maintain itself," Katherine said, her eyes narrowing. "I want to prove the existence of consciousness outside the body, not highlight the effects it has inside the body, especially if they can't be distinguished from other psychiatric conditions."

"Can we go now?" the waitress next to me whined, pouting.

Katherine rolled her eyes, stood up, walked around her desk and grabbed Emma's wrist. Both women blinked, a bit.

confused for a moment.

"Oh, yeah, that's better," Katherine, now Emma, said, stretching her arms with a relieved sigh.

Kelly frowned, then looked at me, confused, her left hand still resting uncomfortably close to my crotch. She jerked it away, blushing. "Sorry!" she said, quickly standing up, checking her phone for the time. "Oh shoot, I'm going to be late for my shift."

"It's alright, Kelly. We're done for today," Emma said, her hands now resting on her hips, in that familiar, confident way that was so distinctly Dr. Winters. "Thank you for your help."

"Yeah, I guess..." Kelly said, still confused, and rushed out of the office.

"Didn't have much time to rewrite her memories," Emma explained to me. "I think she'll be fine, though. Just a bit confused about the last hour or so."

I frowned. "Why did our good doctor let you in?"

Emma walked around the desk, her eyes scanning the screens with a critical, analytical gaze. "I was... She was getting annoyed by my lack of interest in her work," she said. "Wanted me to be a bit more involved in my own... study."

"And?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's weird, being annoyed at myself for not being interested in myself," she said with a snort.

"More like Kelly not being interested in much of anything..."

Emma groaned, scrolling through some data. "She's got the attention span of a goldfish. It's maddening."

"Madening to Katherine," I pointed out.

She shot me a look. "Madening to me too, now."

"Emma... I know you don't see it that way from where you're standing, but Katherine needs us more than we need her at this point." I said.

"What?! We need to understand how this works! I need to know why I'm like this. We need to understand how it works, know the rules!" she said.

"We know the rules," I said, my voice a bit harder than I intended. "I fuck you, you're you. I don't, you fade. You can last longer now, switch more times. We don't need a scientist to tell us that. Do we really need to risk exposing you when Katherine decides this is too big to keep a secret? Do we really need to know more?"

"I need to know more!" she almost shouted, her fists clenched. "You agreed! You promised!" I couldn't tell who I was talking to,. The scientist, or my wife., But I knew that a moment ago, when Emma was in Kelly's brain, she clearly hadn't been that invested.

"Alright, alright," I said, raising my hands. "I get it. We're here, aren't we? We're helping her, as agreed. We're not stopping."

She stared at me, her expression softening. "She's not going to rat us out, Cal."

"Good."

She seemed about to say something, but just shook her head and kept looking through the data. I said nothing more either. I knew she wasn't in the right host to have a more objective conversation about this. She knew me well enough to know I wouldn't speak up again until we were alone, with her as someone else.

I let her work, walking around the office, looking at the books on the shelves, all of them heavy medical texts, the spines cracked and annotated. There was a small window overlooking the hospital grounds, and I watched as an ambulance pulled up to the emergency entrance, its lights flashing silently.

"Alright, Em, we should go," I said after a few minutes. "It's getting late."

"I just need to finish this..." she said, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

"You don't have to finish anything. Katherine does, and she doesn't need you to do her job for her," I said, more gently this time.

"Sorry. It's Luciana all over again," she sighed, standing up.

"We know how it goes," I said with a smirk, grabbing my coat. "Let's go."

We walked out of the hospital, the cool evening air a welcome relief from the sterile environment inside. The city was bustling, the streets filled with the noise of traffic and the chatter of pedestrians.

Emma switched to a young Asian woman in a business suit, a quick, efficient touch as the woman rushed past us, her phone pressed to her ear, talking rapidly in a language I didn't understand.

Katherine shook her head, then looked at me, sighing. "See you next week," she said, her voice flat.

"See you next week," I echoed, waving awkwardly as I ran after Emma.

The Asian woman stumbled, then straightened up, her dark eyes finding mine. A slow, mischievous smile spread across her lips.

"This one can only go to subway. After, different direction," she said, her English heavily accented.

We walked in silence for a few blocks, the city lights reflecting in the puddles on the sidewalk. Emma kept glancing at me, biting her lower lip. She could now switch quite a few times without needing to recharge, but at this rate, whoever Emma would end up bringing home, would be **** for me.

"I'm thinking pizza tonight," I said, breaking the silence.

She coughed, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Pizza? Ah! Need to find someone who like pizza, then!"

I laughed. "Your host is not into pizza, huh?"

Emma turned around, tilting her head, then her eyes widened as a woman in her thirties, in a baggy hoodie and ripped jeans, walked past us, headphones on, completely absorbed in her phone, clearly walking toward the subway entrance a few feet away.

Emma reached out, her fingers brushing against the woman's arm.

The woman, now Emma, looked around, confused, then spotted me, a bored look on her face. She pulled the headphones out of her ears, sighing.

The asian girl just turned around and walked away.

"Yep, going in the same direction," Emma said with a smirk, walking toward the entrance. "I'll have to switch before St. Aldens, though." She pulled a transit card from her pocket, tapping it against the reader, and I followed her through.

"Can't bring that one home?" I asked as we descended the stairs.

Emma's new lips curling into a wry smile. "Why? Think I'm hot?" she teased, her voice husky. The arousal seemed to always pierce through even the most apathetic hosts.

The woman was pretty attractive indeed, though in a grungy, 'just-rolled-out-of-bed' kind of way. Her hair was a mess of dark curls, her eyes sleepy but intelligent, and she had a certain, effortless cool that was undeniably sexy.

"But no, you don't want this one," Emma explained. "She's got a boyfriend, he's kind of an asshole, and they live together. It's... complicated."

I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck. We were getting good at this little game, but I didn't like the idea of running out of options as we got closer to our home.

The station was busy, the platform crowded with commuters. The air was thick with the smell of exhaust fumes and cheap perfume.

"Do you feel like talking about Katherine? The study?" I asked, changing the subject.

My wife shook her head. "Nah! Not in this brain," she said, tapping a finger against her temple. "She's had a long day."

We boarded the next train and found two empty seats near the middle of the car. Emma dropped into hers with a heavy sigh, slouching against the window, her eyes half-closed. The train lurched forward, and she didn't even bother to grab the handrail, just letting her body sway with the motion.

I sat down next to her, keeping a respectable distance, but she immediately leaned into me, her head resting against my shoulder. Her hand found my thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles through the fabric of my jeans. It was a familiar gesture, intimate in a way that made my stomach clench.

"Em," I said quietly, glancing around the car. A businessman across from us was buried in his phone. An elderly couple sat a few seats down, holding hands. No one was paying attention to us, but still. "People are going to think we're…"

"A couple?" she murmured, her breath warm against my neck. Her hand moved higher, just slightly, and I felt my pulse quicken. "Because we are."

"You know what I mean."

She lifted her head, looking at me with those sleepy, unfamiliar eyes. There was a flicker of amusement there, buried under layers of exhaustion. "Cal, no one here knows you. No one knows me. Or… her." She gestured vaguely at herself. "We're just two people on a train. That's all anyone sees."

I wanted to argue, but she wasn't wrong. The paranoia was mine alone, a phantom fear that someone would recognize me, see me with this woman who wasn't Emma, and draw conclusions. But Emma was Emma, even if no one else could see it.

Why was my brain suddenly so hung up on this, now, after everything? I felt the weight of invisible eyes on us, and the knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Maybe it was being back home, where we might cross paths with someone we knew...

She settled back against me, her hand still on my leg, her thumb brushing back and forth in a way that was definitely deliberate. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she seemed to be fighting against her own fatigue, trying to stay present. Her host was clearly running on fumes, stressed and worn down from whatever her day had been, but Emma's desire cut through it, persistent and unmistakable.

I pulled out my phone, more to distract myself than anything else, and saw a notification. A message from Ashley.

Ashley: Hey. I know you probably need space, but I wanted to check in. I haven't heard from you in weeks. Are you okay? I'm worried about you.

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening. Ashley. Emma's younger sister. Of course she was worried. Of course she was grieving. And I'd been so consumed with Emma, with keeping her tethered, with figuring out the rules of this impossible resurrection, that I hadn't even thought to reach out.

"Em," I said, turning the phone so she could see. "Ashley texted."

Emma glanced at the screen, her expression blank. She shrugged, her head lolling back against the window. "Okay."

That was it. Just okay. No concern, no guilt, no acknowledgment that her sister might be hurting. I felt a pang of frustration, but I knew it wasn't really her fault. She was running low, the host's indifference bleeding through, drowning out Emma's own emotions. This woman didn't know Ashley, didn't care about her, and right now, Emma didn't have the strength to fight past that.

I turned back to my phone, typing slowly.

Me: I'm fine. Just need some time to process everything. I'll reach out soon, I promise.

I hit send and watched the screen. The three dots appeared almost immediately, indicating she was typing. Then they stopped. The message stayed on read.

I waited, but nothing came. She'd read it, started to respond, then changed her mind. I could imagine her on the other end, staring at her phone, trying to figure out what to say to a grieving widower who clearly didn't want to talk.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket, feeling the weight of it like a stone.

I started scanning the car, looking for options. A woman in her fifties sat a few rows down, engrossed in a paperback. She looked stable, put-together, but she had a wedding ring and kept checking her watch anxiously. Someone was waiting for her. Not ideal.

A younger woman boarded at the next stop, early twenties maybe, dressed in scrubs with a hospital ID clipped to her pocket. Healthcare worker. Too many people would notice if she didn't show up for her shift.

Another possibility stepped on a stop later: stylish, professional, mid-thirties. She immediately pulled out her phone and started typing furiously, her expression tense. I watched her for a moment, saw her screen light up with calendar notifications, back-to-back meetings. Too connected, too many obligations.

We were two stops from St. Aldens now, and I felt the familiar tightness in my chest. Emma shifted beside me, her eyes barely open, her hand still absently stroking my thigh in a way that would have been comforting if I wasn't so worried about running out of time.

Then I saw her.

She'd gotten on at the last stop and immediately claimed a seat across from us, one leg crossed over the other, wearing paint-splattered combat boots, ripped black tights, and an oversized cardigan covered in enamel pins. One said "Chaotic Neutral." Another had a weird dice on it. Her hair was dyed an unnatural shade of burgundy, pulled into a messy bun with a pencil stuck through it, and she wore thick-framed glasses that kept sliding down her nose. She was scrolling through her phone, her mouth quirked in this lopsided grin, like whatever she was reading was the funniest thing in the world. Every few seconds, she'd snort quietly to herself, then go back to scrolling. She was cute, in a quirky, nerdy way.

I elbowed Emma, harder than I meant to. She jerked upright, frowning. "What?"

I nodded toward the girl. Emma followed my gaze, sighed heavily, then pushed herself to her feet like it was the hardest thing in the world. She swayed slightly with the motion of the train, then made her way over, grabbing the handrail near where the girl sat.

The train lurched. Emma stumbled, her hand shooting out to brace herself against the girl's shoulder.

Emma blinked. The girl blinked. Then the girl's face lit up with a grin, and she stood, moving past the woman Emma had just left behind, who was now pulling out her phone with that same annoyed expression, completely oblivious.

The girl dropped into the seat next to me, her knee immediately pressing against mine. She smelled faintly of acrylic paint and coffee. "Okay, so, good call," she said, her voice bright and animated. "Barbara Larsen, graphic designer, freelance, which means literally no one cares if I ghost for a couple days. Except…" She pulled out her phone, scrolling quickly. "I'm supposed to DM a campaign tonight, and my party is going to **** me if I cancel. Like, we've been building up to this boss fight for three weeks."

"DM?" I asked.

"Dungeons and Dragons. I run the game. I'm the puppet master." She wiggled her fingers dramatically. "The architect of chaos. The bringer of doom. Also the person who has to explain the rules to Todd every single session because he refuses to read the Player's Handbook."

I couldn't help but smile. "Sounds like Todd's problem."

"It's everyone's problem when Todd tries to seduce a dragon for the third time." She was typing now, her thumbs flying across the screen. "Okay, canceling. Gonna blame food poisoning. They'll buy it. I ate gas station sushi last week and wouldn't shut up about it."

She hit send, shoved her phone in her pocket, then turned to me, her eyes bright behind her glasses. There was something mischievous in her expression, something playful. Her hand landed on my knee, fingers drumming lightly. "So. Barbara. That's me now. I live alone, thank god, in a studio that's basically just a desk, a mattress, and way too many miniatures. I have a cat named Gandalf who's a total asshole. And I haven't had a date in, like, six months, so this body is very excited right now."

She said it so matter-of-factly that I almost laughed.

"Good to know," I said.

"And, if you haven't noticed, I'm very chatty," she continued, a grin spreading across her face. "Oh, I'm also out of oat milk, which is a tragedy, but not relevant." She leaned closer, her shoulder pressing against mine. "You're cute, by the way. Like, I—Barbara—would definitely swipe right. So that's making this easier. Or I guess it doesn't matter. We both know I'm turned on by you no matter who's body I'm in."

The train announcer crackled overhead. "Next stop, St. Aldens."

Emma's previous host stood, still looking irritated, and made her way to the doors without a glance back. I watched her step off onto the platform, earbuds back in, already absorbed in whatever she'd been doing before Emma borrowed her body.

Barbara was still talking. "Oh, also, I have this freelance deadline on Monday, but it's for a crypto bro who keeps asking me to make his logo 'more blockchain-y,' whatever the hell that means, so honestly, screw him. He can wait." She tilted her head, studying me. "You're quiet. Long day? I mean... I know it's been a long day, I remember it, but at the same time I don't. Always a mindfuck, isn't it?"

"You could say that." I laughed.

She grinned, her hand sliding higher on my thigh. "Let's go home!"

The train rolled on, carrying us toward home, and for the first time in hours, I felt myself relax. Barbara was weird, chatty, and completely shameless. It was refreshing.

"So," she said, leaning her head against my shoulder, her fingers still tracing idle patterns on my leg. "Are we ordering pizza, or am I gonna have to cook? Because I—Barbara—can cook, but I really don't want to. I've been staring at a screen for like nine hours, and my brain is mush."

"Pizza," I said.

"Perfect. I love you." She paused, then laughed. "That's Emma talking, by the way. Barbara would definitely not say that on a first date. Barbara would say something weird like, 'You're neat,' and then infodump about typeface design for twenty minutes."

I smiled despite myself. "Noted." What the hell was a typeface?

She snuggled closer, her eyes already half-closed, but there was still that restless energy beneath the surface, her body humming with anticipation. I could feel it in the way her fingers kept moving, the way she shifted every few seconds, like she couldn't quite sit still.

The city blurred past the windows, and for the first time since leaving the hospital, I let myself breathe.