The bruises did not fade in time. Ada knew with her entire being that there was no way to avoid the conversation with Sam when she returned after lunch. Still, Ada applied another layer of salve swiping her fingers around the edges to save the remnants at the bottom for later. The bruises were green, yellow, and burnt plum. The shape was less discernible, but no less obvious. It was a hand, and a beefy one at that.

Noah would keep her secret, but could she? Did she even want to keep this from Sam? She wasn't proud of it, but it wasn't going anywhere. She would hear about the fire if she hadn't already, she would see the bruises, and she would remember what Ada did ... what she does. She was clever, it wouldn't take her long to put the pieces together.

The jar clattered to the counter and Ada sank hard to the edge of the bathtub. This was it. She wouldn't be able to keep her secrets for much longer. She could see the inevitability on the horizon. If not when she got home, then in the near future. There would be no avoiding her questions, her judgement. Would she deem Ada's actions reasonable? Unforgivable? Repulsive?

Once she knew about the fire, there would be no point in trying to hide the fact that Ada had murdered someone. If she didn't bare her sins, what reason would Sam have to ever believe her? She wasn't confident in her ability to lie to her with conviction. To someone else, sure, no problem, but Sam? It was a dangerous precedent to set and a line she didn't want to cross.

Somehow she would have to tell her the truth. It could mean the end of the best thing in her life, but she had made her bed. All that was left was to lie in it.

Ada had been so busy wallowing the house wore its neglect like a badge. Her hair up, headphones in, she set to work cleaning up to some epic Viking metal with a blunt dangling from her lips. While she would normally stop at half, or share it with Sam, the whole thing was gone before she knew it. It only helped a little. She was able to focus on the mundane tasks at hand more freely, but the storm cloud in her chest never went away. She was on edge, charged, feeling impossible pressure from without and from within.

In spite of all that distress, Ada got a lot done. She was folding laundry upstairs when she heard a car pull up and shut off. Sam was alone and stretched deeply when she got out. She didn't notice Ada in the window, too busy flipping to the house key as she approached the door.

Ada's heartbeat was painful and deafening. She faced the doorway, the stairs she would soon be climbing. Ada hadn't bothered with makeup, not at all. Her bare face and neck displayed her bruises clearly. She could only hide for a matter of hours, and didn't see the point in tormenting herself for that. She swallowed hard, feeling the dull ache of the bruise.

"C'est moi!" Her tone was bright, excited. Ada ached.

"I'm in the bedroom!" Ada called back. She busied herself with folding and focused on getting her trembling hands under control.

Sam's footsteps were nearly inaudible. It wasn't hard to find her smile when Ada saw her round the banister, bag in hand. Her free hand scooped her loose hair and swung it over one shoulder. It trailed below her hip bone these days. She beamed, sparkling eyes widening an instant before she froze. Her grin fell away and her bag hit the floor.

"Holy shit." Sam rushed to her side, palming her cheek to tilt her head back. It seared her, but she didn't stop her or remove it. "Who did this to you? Was it Noah? I swear, I'll end him."

Ada laid a gentle hand over hers, leaning into her touch. Her lacking panic gave Sam pause. "No, Noah is fine. I ... I did something colossally stupid."

Her brows knitted, her thumb stroking Ada's cheek gently. The need to tell her grew. "What happened?"

Ada laced their fingers together and guided her to the bed, heedless of the freshly folded clothes piled there. Her heart was racing, and she could look no higher than her collar as she gathered her thoughts. What should she even say? There was no good way to explain the series of decisions that led her to murder. Sam didn't rush her, and she was grateful for it.

When at last she met Sam's eyes, there was no impatience or irritation there. Ada took a deep breath and dove in. Nothing was left out as she described the evolution of texts she had exchanged with Hillebrandt, the stolen file, the evidence of a picked lock, what was inside.

"Wait, is that why you changed your number?" Sam had been silent thus far, expressive eyes oddly ineffable. "You said it was an ex."

"It is ... I wish it had been so simple."

Squeezing her fingers, Ada continued. Sam didn't interrupt to ask if this was why Ada had stayed, it was obvious she understood that much. Her attention was rapt as Ada described the building and her progression through it. She held her breath and chewed her lip at some of the more stressful situations.

Dread mounted the nearer her recount drew to the supply closet and the maelstrom that followed. Ada sucked in a deep breath. For the first time since it happened, Ada acknowledged fully the plastic lighter in her palm. She described it in detail, because Sam was the only person she could trust to understand even slightly what might have happened and not make fun of her for thinking it. It was hard to find the right words to explain the sensation that passed over her skin in a blink.

"You know the feeling of a soap bubble sliding over your skin?" It was all she could come up with. Sam appeared pensive and nodded after a moment. "Like that, but from the back of my neck, spreading out across my body to my hand. It was less than a second, but I was so aware of it. My palm got all tingly, and then the flame shot up." Ada mimed the shape of it with one hand, the other pretending to hold the lighter. "It hit the ceiling. That stuff shouldn't have burned. I looked it up to confirm, and I was right. Those cardboard tile things are supposed to be full of flame retardant materials."

Sam looked like she wanted to say something, but Ada barreled on. This was not the time for stopping. If she did, she might never finish her story. Words tumbled from her lips, describing the ravenous progression of the flames, the way they danced as though amused by the sprinklers and rain. After a deep breath, Ada told her about being tackled, scrambling for freedom, almost being shot, the floor swallowing up her assailant, and her dumb-ass decision to rescue him.

"Don't get down on yourself." Sam had been pretty quiet thus far, but cut in here and squeezed Ada's hand in both of hers. "I would have done the same thing."

Ada gave her a mirthless grin. "Here, yes, but not what happens next."

So she continued, skimming over their progression down the stairs and hallway. Ada described the heat and the rain and relief of being outside, all of which only lasted a moment. Then she could avoid it no longer. Her stomach was stormy just thinking the words. Sam could see her distress, her eyes twinkling and glassy as she held back tears. Did she know what Ada would say next? With no further words to procrastinate, Ada expressed her shock at being attacked, the terror of being trapped on her back as he loomed upside-down over her, trying with all his might to squeeze the life from her body. Sam clapped a palm over her mouth, eyes wider than ever as Ada finally got to mentioning the knife at her ankle. She knew what Ada was going to say before she said it, but she did anyway. She had to. The words rushed out of her like a horse from the gate and hung in the air a long time after.

Here, Ada did stop. She couldn't find her breath, words, thoughts. She sort of shut down for a minute as horror painted Sam's features. There it was. She had ruined them, too. She knew this was too much to hope for. She had survived, but at what cost?

Sam raised dainty fingers to Ada's throat. They dragged feather-light over the damage, and then she withdrew them, rubbing her fingers together.

"It's arnica," Ada explained without prompt. "To help heal."

She looked at Ada again, but there was no revulsion like she had been expecting. Shock and horror, yes, but Ada was beginning to dare to hope that it might be at her situation and not at what she had done. Ada chewed her lip, awaiting her response.

"You're wrong," Sam murmured at last, and Ada's heart slammed into her sternum. "I would have done the same thing. I mean, I probably wouldn't have been doing what you were doing, but I mean if I was in your shoes then, I would have done it, too. I would have dragged him outside, and I wouldn't hesitate to kill him either when he tried to kill me. You did what you had to."

Ada chuckled dryly, saying before she could think about it, "Noah said that, too."

Her brows shot up. "Noah knows?"

It's funny, she hadn't thought much about how close she and Noah had become in the past few weeks, but it was undeniable. She supposed that to Sam, who had witnessed none of their interactions, it was pretty improbable. With that, Ada dove into the finale. It was much easier to stomach, especially now that she knew Sam wasn't about to run out on her. When she explained what was going through her mind, Sam nodded, seeming to understand how she had landed on calling him in the first place. Ada told her about picking him up in the man's car, cleaning up, driving to the lake, all of it, right down to nearly tumbling off the cliff herself and holding Noah's hand as they watched the blood drain from the corpse.

Sam's expression was still, composed, masking something she couldn't place. Wide eyes searched her face. Did she see what she was looking for? Or was she merely biding her time to process her feelings?

"Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?" murmured Sam, brows pinched.

Ada let out a sigh. There was no avoiding this, but she had dreaded its arrival. "A few reasons that all seem colossally stupid now."

Her lip twitched. "Try me."

"I was hoping to solve the problem for good without anyone knowing." And she wanted to protect Sam.

She heard Ada's thought as clearly as if she had spoken it aloud. "The last thing I need is you throwing yourself in harms way for some vague notion of keeping me safe."

Her words stung. Ada had told herself as much repeatedly, for all the good it did in stopping her. Sam didn't need protecting, she knew that; did it stop her from trying? Obviously not.

"You're right, I know. It's just ..." Ada trailed off as she sifted for the words to her thought. "It's a very different kind of danger than you're used to. A bullet will kill you as surely as it will kill me."

Sam winced. "I know that, but I don't need protecting. You should have told me what was going on from the start."

Ada wanted to reach for her, but thought better of it. Instead, she agreed. "I really am sorry."

Sam nodded slowly, gaze drifting to the side and growing unfocused. After a time, she said, "Are they gone now? Your siblings?"

"No." It came out a whisper. Ada cleared her throat. "No, apparently they're friends with the dealer. And everything I got was useless because the company is probably bankrupt now. No, they'll be back."

Sam exhaled deeply and took Ada's left hand, eventually meeting her gaze. "Promise me you won't push me away again when that happens."

There was no hesitation in her agreement. The relief she felt at airing it all was immense, and the thought of her support through what was to come made its inevitability bearable. She didn't know how Sam could help, but knowing she would be there was soothing nonetheless.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Ada murmured, thoughts spilling out. "When they come back, I mean. I don't think I can do another job with them."

After a moment, Sam leaned on her shoulder. "So don't."

"It's not that simple." Ada freed her hand to put her arm around her, grateful for her warmth and comfort. "I'm just as guilty as they are. Actually, more-so now. Unless things have changed since I went away, neither of them have killed anyone."

"Do you really think another job will satisfy them for good?" Her tone wasn't challenging, just curious.

"Honestly?" Ada paused, reflecting. "Probably not, but I can't just refuse."

Sam shifted, gazing up at her. Her long lashes grazed the edge of her brow. "Why not?"

"They'll turn me in. I'm sure they have dirt on me." Ada cleared her throat, adding, "After this, though, Simon might just kill me himself. Oh, he's their dealer friend. Kind of a major prick."

Sam snickered darkly. "That's not going to happen."

"It might, you haven't met him. He's pretty fucked up."

"No." Sam's gaze was steely. "We won't let that happen."

Ada's lips pressed together and she rubbed Sam's arm, turning her gaze to the window. This was exactly what she was afraid of. Sure, she hadn't lost her, but the damage was done. Their trust was damaged, and Sam was putting herself in harms way again.

Ada had done all of that, caused and experienced all that trauma, for nothing.