Blue shifted to white which dulled to a light grey that burned Tara’s eyelids. She had been floating for a long time before she realised she could swim. That she didn’t need to remain trapped on the spot, waiting for a wave to push her. As soon as she began to swipe her arms and kick her legs, it was as though she were shaking the water off of her rather than moving through it. She wasn’t in a pool; she was the one carrying the water on her body.

With an exhausted whine she cracked her eyes, pushing through the stinging sensation that almost blocked her sight with tears before she’d even fully opened them. Only one splotch of colour blocked an otherwise full-view of grey ceiling. Short brown hair flicking up around a peach-skinned face. Grey eyes were staring down at her curiously, waiting for something. Waiting for Tara to do something. She felt like an animal in an observation tank, her every move documented.

Tara focused her gaze on the face; it was familiar. With sludgy and slow limbs she shuffled under the tight sheets that covered her body, trying to pull herself up just a little. The woman watching her reached forward, taking her by the armpits and sliding her up against the pillows behind her until she was half sitting up in a crisp white bed. The woman was strong, heavily muscled, and very tall.

“Thank you,” Tara mumbled, her lips rubbery and dry.

“You’re welcome, honey,” said the woman.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Tara glancing back and forth between the woman and the room.

Hospital. But she wasn’t hurt, at least she could not feel any pain.

She wiggled her fingers and toes. All in working order, nothing sore. The fog that her brain was stewing in dissipated at an infuriatingly slow rate. But the more times she looked over the woman’s face, the more certain she became.

Finally, she said quietly, “I remember you, Imogen.”

She was expecting Imogen to give her a sign to stay quiet, to say nothing about what she knew. Instead, she leapt up, suddenly imbued with energy and announced, “I should bloody hope so after the hoops I had to jump through to find you! Why wouldn’t you remember me?”

“Malakbel… he wiped my memory and then I blacked out…” Tara spoke slowly, her words sliding from her mouth as though her tongue were covered in fur.

“Why would Azazel’s husband remove your memories?”

Tara’s back straightened as she recalled more and more of the moments before she blacked out. “He works for them!” she said. “He’s… he was wearing a uniform and he looked like a soldier and-”

“Of course he does, he’s one of our most high-ranking undercover operatives-”

“He let them sentence Shawn to a hundred years of torture!” she gasped as the awful moment came back to her. His husband had done nothing; he had watched it all happen blank-faced.

“Tara, you’re cute but not bright, my dear. What can that single fallen do against all of Hell? Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the good of the group.” Imogen stood and yanked back the covers to bare Tara to the frigid air. She was wearing a hospital gown and nothing else. She dumped a set of fresh clothes at her feet and stepped back. “Now, get your goddamn clothes on and follow me. We need to get out of here.”

Tara could only hope that meant she would get an adequate explanation of what was going to happen next later. Although she was scared to ask for any further information from this Imogen, brash and aggressive and-

Not the Imogen she knew. The Imogen with perfect patience for explanations and careful questioning. The Imogen who had sat with her after she found out about Ava and was open and honest about her own experience escaping Hell.

Tara took the underwear from the pile and slid them on under the gown as modestly as possible, then she stood up on the opposite side of the bed to Imogen and snatched up the dress, socks and bralette. She pulled on the socks and bralette next before pulling off the loosely tied gown. She knew this was a life-or-death situation and they most likely did need to move speedily, but something did not quite sit right in her gut.

The dress could be pulled on like a jacket as it needed to be buttoned all the way up the front. Tara stilled mid-way through buttoning the dress as her mind continued to move, suddenly picking apart every single moment since she had awoken. Imogen hadn’t turned away or averted her eyes when Tara removed her hospital gown to pull the dress on. Whenever Tara slept over at hers and Ava’s apartment, Imogen was always incredibly respectful of looking upon so much as a strip of tummy skin. Tara had never been sure if that was out of courtesy to her or as self-protection against Ava and her possessive tendencies. She had just stood in front of Imogen almost naked, and the larger woman had not so much as flinched.

Either this situation was so serious that Imogen had dropped all manners and forethought, or this was not Imogen.

“Would you hurry up?” Imogen huffed. “We could have enforcers on our tail this very moment!”

Tara did not continue buttoning, instead she asked, “Imogen?”

“What?”

“When was the last time you visited Jenny’s Java?”

“Are you concussed? What does that ha-”

“It’s important.”

“For goodness sake. Fine. Um, I think it was last week, maybe Tuesday?”

“And what did you order?”

“Given that it’s a coffee house, I most likely ordered coffee. Now are you finished acting a fool? Do you need me to finish your buttons for you like a nanny?”

Imogen stepped forward, pushing the rolling table out of her way as she rounded the bed towards her. Tara stepped back, keeping the distance between them.

“Jessi’s Java,” she said, dropping her hands from the dress.

“What about it? Stop blatherin-”

“I called it Jenny’s Java and you didn’t notice.”

“Who cares-”

“Imogen has never been to Jessi’s Java.”

“I have been to a Jenny’s Java, though. See? You’re picking apart my word-”

“Imogen doesn’t go to coffee houses. Do you know why?”

Imogen’s cloudy grey eyes began to swirl into a storm, shifting into a yellow and brown blend.

“Why?” she growled.

“Because Imogen doesn’t like coffee. She makes matcha tea at home.”

Imogen’s hulking six-foot frame shrunk and warped until her eyes were level with Tara’s and now a sweet caramel colour.

Bee glared at her, fury radiating from her soft features.

“Perhaps you’re not as dim as I thought; that might keep you out of trouble for a few minutes in hell, my dear.”

“Hell?” Tara squeaked.

“Where else would you go when I kill you?” Bee cackled. “You’re tainted now, sweetie.”

Tara jerked back as Bee lurched forward, her mouth wide and showing rows of needle-sharp teeth. A muscled mass caught her an inch from Tara’s face and slammed her into the wall beside them.

“Tara! Run!” Imogen grunted. The real Imogen this time, apparently.

Tara leapt over the hospital bed like an action star would over a car (maybe not quite as smoothly) and burst through the door into the empty hallway, devoid of all colour and warmth. She picked her directions at random and ran. She was through with fucking things up for her friends. From this moment on she was going to obey the three of them without question or hesitation. If Imogen said run, Tara would do her best Usain Bolt impression.

She took a corner a little too fast and slid in her socks but didn’t hit the ground. She righted herself with a stagger and kept running. Her eyes darted desperately for an exit sign. Up until then she was choosing her directions at random. She skidded past a staircase leading down and quickly ran back to it.

“Excuse me?” A woman’s voice called behind her.

Tara glanced over her shoulder. A nurse was walking towards her cautiously. “Sorry, I need to get going!” she said breathlessly.

The nurse continued to follow her. “Are you okay? You’re not… dressed.”

Tara glanced down and noticed the dress was still not completely closed. “Oh, thank you!” She pushed through the last couple of buttons. “I was in a bit of a rush,” she said with a breathy, awkward laugh. “Still am, actually.” She took off again, plummeting down the stairs and flinging herself round the bannister to do the same down the next flight.

“Wait!” The woman shouted over the railing. “Have you been discharged?”

But Tara could see the automatic doors leading to the car park, so she ignored the well-meaning woman and dashed for the outside world. She pelted across the concrete, small stones pricking her shoeless feet.

An arm snatched her up by the waist and continued in the same direction she had been running in, her captor moving swiftly through the maze of cars. Tara gasped and flung her elbow back into their face. Imogen caught it and gave her a bewildered look.

“What are you doing?”

“How do I know you’re the real Imogen?”

“Bit late now,” she said gently. “It’s not like you could break my grip.” She continued sidling amongst the cars until she reached a small black one and used her free hand to bring out the keys to unlock it.

“Where do I work?” asked Tara.

Imogen pulled the passenger door open. “Jessi’s Java.” She dropped Tara into the seat gently.

Tara folded her arms over her chest. “What do I like to drink from there?”

Imogen ignored her arms and pulled the seatbelt down over the top of them, clicking it into place. “Stinky caramel drinks in those plastic cups that are bad for the environment,” she answered monotonously.

“And what do you like to drink from there?”

Imogen shut the door. Tara huffed and held a pout as she waited for her to make her way round the car to the driver’s side. Thankfully, she moved quickly, a blur of a woman.

“I’ve never bought a drink there,” said Imogen, startling Tara as she appeared in her seat, door closed and seatbelt already on. “Is this how humans show they have received a brain injury? Should I take you back inside?” Imogen pushed her key in but hesitated before turning it, looking to Tara to confirm she wasn’t in need of medical attention.

“No, just checking,” said Tara, still a little suspicious.

Imogen stared at her for a moment before shrugging. “If you’re sure.”

She pulled out of the car park and was speeding the moment they hit the main road.

“Where are we going?” Tara asked quietly.

“To help Ava and Shawn get back to Earth.”

Tara nodded to herself, pulling a mildly impressed expression. That sounded like a great plan. And even better, it sounded like she was being included in this great plan.

They flew out of the city, weaving around any other car on the road. Imogen may not be a good driver, but she had incredible driving reflexes. Tara clung to her seat, her brain going blank as she prepared her body for the inevitable violent crash.