Love Between The Margins - SCP Foundation

This email is to announce that myself, Lillian Lillihammer, and Heather Garrison, are romantically involved.

Lesbians exist, I promise you.

Love Between the Margins

Paperwork is the result of years of pointless systems colliding, middle managers exerting their non-existent power in a final gasp of insecurity, and the mindless drones that propagate a culture of emptiness and tedium.

Paperwork, unfortunately, was what Heather Garrison was stuck in her office filling out.

You would think the Foundation would take it easy after a 'memetic abstraction crisis event', but that would be wrong. Why do they even need this many forms?

"So."

Heather looked up from her work to see Lillian standing in her office doorway, two coffees in hand. From behind her computer, Heather smiled.

"Is one of those for me?" Heather asked, not stopping her fingers from typing, her subconscious split between writing a monotonous status update and staring longingly at Lillian. Heather bounced her leg, fighting to keep her eyes on the screen — but it was futile.

"Oh you mean these? These two delicious coffees? They're both mine, I decided to go all in on caffeine today." Lillian's mile wide grin did nothing to support that statement, so Heather abandoned her tedium, and chose her own path.

Heather walked across her office in long, elegant strides, stopping right in front of Lillian. She started to lean in for a kiss, but stopped herself. Lillian stared at her with impatience, buzzing from her latte.

"Seriously? You're going to leave me waiting for my payment? Maybe I'll just keep the coffe—"

Heather snorted in disbelief. Yep. This is the girl you fell for, Heather. You fell in love, so now she's your problem.

"Lils, look around. Do you see where we are?" Heather said as she gestured all around her to the many monolithic and suffocating towers of papers, the deafening hum of her terminal and flavorless filing cabinets that lined the walls.

"Not a bedroom? That's a shame." Lillian slipped past Heather into the room, and in one motion, shoved the papers off of Heather's desk and onto the floor, clearing a space for her to sit. She stared up at Heather with a familiar look in her eyes; her girlfriend had a personal mission, and wouldn't drop it until she got her way.

"Lillian! Come on, we're at work!"

"So? Come here, it's not like anybody's watching."

"But what if somebody sees? We're still—" Heather paused, looking both ways. The corridors echoed with a familiar quiet, the very silence that allowed their relationship to blossom.

Though it might be fun to get caught… no, we can't. I have to keep this a secret, for Lillian.

Heather closed the office door behind her, resolving to continue their secrecy. She adjusted the blinds, quickly pulling them shut, sitting down on the desk beside Lillian. "We're still hiding this relationship, right?"

Lillian handed her a cup, and Heather took a sip; a delicate rose scent wafted through the air swirling with the bitter taste of a darkly roasted coffee, creating nirvana in her mouth. She remembered. She lingered in the subtle taste of the latte, dreaming of a reality where she and Lillian could sit lazily in a café, the dangers and conflicts of their lives long since faded.

She swallowed, a bitter aftertaste reminding her of the truth. I don't remember the first time I had coffee anymore. At the unwavering memory of 'absence', Heather was kicked back into reality.

"About your question. I'm not sure if we should keep doing it."

Oh god, what did I ask? Heather thought in a blur, her frenetic mind stumbling as she cursed her newly perforated memory. Is she talking about our relationship? I know it's only been a week or two but—

Lillian saw Heather's face go pale, and reached out to grab Heather. As soon as Lillian touched her arm, Heather came back to earth, her breathing returning to normal. Lillian smiled at her girlfriend, speaking in a peaceful, quiet murmur. "Sorry babe, I meant— I don't think we should keep hiding our relationship."

Heather hadn't expected this to come up for at least another month or so. After all, she was still recovering from their last... adventure, so she didn't want to rush Lillian into anything. It was better to just keep things status quo, right? Maybe not. Heather guessed.

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"Me, certain about something? Heath, you know I'm never confident in the decisions I make, it's not like I run the simulations in my head until I figure out the best option, that's nothing like me."

God she's an ass sometimes. Shame that's my type.

"Lils, you're right. You never think anything through, that's why you're never lost in your thoughts."

Lillian laughed, her grin gently relaxing into a subtle smile.

"I'm serious, Heath. We've been through more in the past couple weeks than a lot of relationships go through in years. I trust you, I love you, and I'm tired of sneaking around."

"Are you sure? The sneaking is kind of hot." Heather said, a mischievous thought entering her mind.

"It is kind of hot, isn't it?" Lillian stared back at Heather, mouth slightly agape.

In an instant, they closed the trivial distance that separated them. Lillian darted forward, as Heather pushed the rest of the papers off her desk. The two cups of coffee crashed as they hit the floor, drenching the documents — not that either woman cared.

They froze, the tension deafening the room. Heather bit her lip, waiting for Lillian to make the next move.

"One last time sneaking around?"

That was the invitation Heather had been waiting for.

The two women walked through the halls of Site-43, on a mission, each stride purposeful. They bumped into each other as they did, their normal drifting through the hallways while solving a problem having been modified by one simple fact.

They were holding hands as they walked.

"So, are we going to contact HR about our relationship?" Heather asked, her fingers tightening around Lillian's. Maybe if she squeezed hard enough, nobody would notice her anxiety.

"What?" Lillian laughed melodically. "Why does the Foundation need to approve us fucking? Are they watching us?"

"I mean… We do put on a show." Heather blushed as she thought about them being watched. Heather. Pull yourself together here. You're trying to do something.

Heather looked around the hallways at the various researchers they were passing. Few gave them much attention, having grown used to their chaotic presence at the Site. We just need to show people that we're together, and they'll know we're dating. Easy, right?

Lillian had been ranting to herself about how little she respected the Foundation's procedures, which Heather had tuned out due to having heard it many, many, many times before. When Lillian had finally gotten it all out, Heather jumped back in.

"So how long do you think it will take before somebody asks if we're really dating?"

"My guess is that by the end of the day, it'll be the biggest rumor on Site. After all, who wouldn't want to gossip about the two of us?"

Lillian led the way around a corner, pulling Heather around by the arm — Heather liked to trail slightly behind. That way, she got to watch Lillian walk. Unfortunately, that meant she completely unprepared when Lillian stopped on a dime, Heather crashing into her from behind.

Heather looked to see what had caused their interruption; a researcher she didn't recognize was standing in front of Lillian, staring at the floor, their knees wobbling.

"Can we help you? You're in my way." Lillian glowered at the researcher, a practiced look that had withered many before. This researcher, unfortunately, was not as smart as the others.

"Hi! Dr. Lillihamme— sorry, I mean Lillian."

"It's Dr. Lillihammer." Lillian snapped out.

"Right." The researcher gulped audibly, refusing to meet either woman's eyes. "I wanted to ask you something. I… Would you like to go on a date with me? I think you're smart and pretty and I'd love to get to know you better."

Huh.

Heather stared in disbelief at the researcher, stunned by his lack of awareness. He sees us holding hands, right? Maybe I should say something.

"I'm sorry, did you just ask Lillian out?" Heather barely managed to moderate her tone, her incredulity evident.

The man stammered nonsensically in response, but his nodding was clear. He was trying to ask Lillian out. My Lilli.

Lillian finally put him out of his misery. "Oh. Yeah, no thanks." Blunt, efficient, and kind of hot.

"Oh. Are you dating somebody? I thought you were single."

Lillian raised her left hand, the one that was still holding Heather's. "Really? I'm not single, I figured that would be pretty fucking obvious."

"Can I ask who you're dating? If it's Sokolsky, can I just—"

Somehow, some fucking way, nobody had realized they were dating. What was supposed to be an easy solution had now become a much more frustrating issue for Lillian.

Are the other staff at the Site this fucking oblivious?

People already stared at the both of them anywhere they went, it was supposed to be easy to start the rumor. Hand holding, obvious flirting, constant touches — That was obvious, right? Even somebody without a perfect memory would be able to retain that Heather and Lillian were dating.

Apparently not, Lillian thought to herself, rolling her eyes.

And now Lillian found herself sitting at a table, picking at her food as Wettle droned on and on about his latest date. At least, that's what Lillian thought Wettle was talking about, based on how much Harry was agitating him. Where is Heather?

Lillian didn't like waiting. Other people were supposed to stand around aimlessly until she arrived. Not the other way around.

The plan was to wait until the middle of lunch, when Heather would come over, and kiss her, in the middle of the mess hall, visible for everybody and anybody to see. This was the perfect location; Lillian had ensured that they were sat at a central table, but close enough to the most gossipy Site staff that they would have to notice them. She made sure that there were as noticeable as possible — if one idiot didn't get it, hopefully the other ninety-nine would.

The cafeteria doors slammed open dramatically as Heather walked into the room. Her dazzlecoat billowed behind her, the iridescent shimmers of color reflecting up into her abyss-like hair. That's my girlfriend. Lillian thought to herself in awe. Fuck yeah!

Heather had made short work of the crowds, deftly weaving between them — her loudly clacking heels enabled her to be the tallest in the room, nobody would be missing her. When she got to the table, she locked eyes with Lillian and gave a flirty half-smile.

Note to self: remind Heather to wear heels more.

"Hey babe." Heather said, projecting into the room, announcing her arrival at Lillian's table. She sat down on Lillian's lap, and grabbed onto the sides of Lillian's head. Heather leaned in, tilting Lillian's face up, and the women kissed, passionate and overt.

The plan was only for a short kiss, but… Heather is right, this is much better.

When Heather pulled away from the kiss, Lillian followed her, clinging to Heather's lips for as long as possible. They finally parted, breathing heavily, looking at each other with a shared love and lust.

"Hey Heath." Lillian managed to squeak out in reply. Okay, you're not used to a girl having this kind of effect on you. That's fine, nobody is scrutinizing me blushing. They should just be looking at the two of us.

"Good to see you, Heather! How are you feeling? We haven't talked since you… Uhh.. Since you lobotomized yourself?" Harry's sheepish grin allayed his word choice. He had asked her about how Heather was doing in the weeks since their experiment, but this was the first time he had seen her in person since.

"I'm better, thanks for asking Harry. Still feeling a bit weird, and I know there's more gaps in my memory than I've realized yet, but at least I still remember how to do my job?" Heather laughed gently, and Harry smiled in return.

But when Harry turned to look at Lillian, the gentle smile morphed into the same impish grin that she recognized from their decades of friendship. What is Harry plotting?

"I'm sorry, I feel like I'm missing something. Why are you sitting on Lillian?" Wettle stared with wide eyes, trying his best to understand the situation, and clearly failing.

"Why am I sitting on Lillian? Can I not sit on my girlfriend?" Heather asked, the teasing in her voice clear. She's certainly having fun with this.

"Oh. You two are dating?"

"Yep!"

"Got it. You know, that actually reminds me of a story about this weeken—"

"Willie, will you stop talking about the only date you've been on in a year? We get it, you had a date where everything didn't fall apart." Lillian had finally recovered from the kiss, and was back to her usual self. And her usual self hated when Willie told the same story, again and again and again. "You know replication studies doesn't mean you have to keep telling the same story, right?"

"Actually, I would argue that—" Lillian tuned Wettle back out, and looked at Heather. She smiled back, looking radiant in the artificial florescent lighting of the mess hall, a rejection of the stale blandness the Foundation seemed to love so much.

Do you think this worked? Heather said wordlessly, with just a glance.

I think it did. Lillian responded internally, as she grabbed Heather's hand and held it tight.

"It didn't fucking work." Heather burst in to Lillian's dorm, a metaphorical storm cloud over her head.

"Did you try a different vector of attack? What about a combination of memetic triggers and an ontological gate?" Lillian asked, not looking up from the book she was currently devouring.

"This isn't about the countermeme reque— wait, actually, let me write that down, I'll try that next." Heather said, gathering her breath. "I was just asked if I wanted to join the 'Singles Mixer' this weekend."

"Oh?"

"Lillian, are you even listening?"

Lillian lazily looked up from her book and fixed her stare on Heather. "I mean, you're smart, you have a handle on the countermeme, right? I figured you were just using me as a rubber duck."

"You weren't listening to anything I said after that then, huh?" Heather shook her head.

"Nope! Not in the slightest. What's up babe?" Lillian had closed the book and was waiting for Heather's reply. She was just now getting used to Lillian's inability to use bookmarks — she still visibly cringed whenever Lillian closed a book without marking her page, but she was getting subtler.

"Nobody thinks we're dating."

"What?" Lillian stood up in disbelief. "Seriously? How did you find out?"

"Well after—"

"Wait, my brain just caught up — who the fuck asked you to go to the singles mixer?" Lillian's eyes narrowed, contrasting her calculating, analystical stare. It was possessive and predatory, and there was no denying how that make Heather feel.

"Swallows. But it's fine, I shut him down. But then I started to ask around, seeing if anybody knew about us. Turns out the only person who learned anything from us making out in the cafeteria yesterday was Wettle."

Heather brushed a stray hair out of her face. It's not supposed to be this hard, right? I bet straight people never have this problem.

Lillian had gone quiet — and Heather looked on with bated breath, awaiting whatever solution Lillian was developing.

A piercing stare and the wicked smile from Lillian left Heather a mess, her knees going weak — and it told Heather that, whatever Lillian had planned, she was going to enjoy the next solution very, very much.

"Look, I don't know how many times I need to give this seminar, but here we are again. Maybe this time you'll all learn something, and we won't need to have another fucking seminar, alright? So let's talk about proper safety around unknown memetic hazards."

Lillian stood in front of a crowd of disinterested faces. She didn't recognize any of them, unsurprisingly. Nobody she cared enough about to remember would have made the mistakes that landed them all here. Despite her best efforts, the greater members of Site-43 always seemed to share cognitohazards over emails, stumble into infohazards left and right, and fundamentally seemed unable to understand that they should not just walk into the memetics labs, especially while her staff were actively working.

But today, she wasn't thinking about any of that. She wasn't dreading the monotony of running another seminar, lecturing the same, stupid stares as she fulfilled her duties as Section Head; instead, Lillian was focused on the door, waiting.

Again. She thought, belatedly.

As if on cue, the doors opened to reveal Heather, a bento box in hand, ignoring everybody in the room other than Lillian.

"Just give me one second here." Lillian said as she stepped away from the podium.

You fuckers watching? Good, you better be.

"Hey babe, what's up?" Lillian smiled, trying to sell this as best as she could.

"Oh not much—" Heather was hesitant, but as if falling into a routine, her posture completely shifted and suddenly, nobody could take their eyes off of her. "I just wanted to swing by and bring you lunch."

Lillian remembered that Heather had been involved in the anomalous theatre scene before transferring, and it showed. Lillian couldn't take her focus off of Heather, in awe over how she commandeered the room in an instant. Other than a few snoring agents and some overworked, underpaid and distracted researchers, the majority of the room was staring at the two of them.

And now, it's my turn. For the coup de grâce.

"You didn't have to do that! You're such a good girlfriend. Heather Garrison, what would I do without you?" Lillian forced out. Fuck, I sound like a straight person! But if this is what it takes, that's what I'll do.

"I've got you Lilli. What else is a girlfriend for?" Heather handed over the lunch and gave her a small peck. Her role now finished, she dramatically turned around, her hair flying behind her as she did. She swept out of the lecture hall almost as quickly as she'd entered, but that should be enough.

We both called each other a girlfriend, we kissed, we even made it obvious for the idiots.

She walked back to the podium and turned to face the crowd. Why does that dipshit have their hand raised, like they're in school?

"Yes. The person who is already confused."

"Was that a cognitohazard?"

"What?"

"Is that going to be on the test?"

Lillian almost yelled in frustration — almost.

"My girlfriend? No, my girlfriend is not going to be on the 'test'. Also, I don't know where you got that idea, there's no fucking test other than 'don't look at fucking memetic hazards you dumbasses'. Does that make sense to everybody?"

She knew that she shouldn't have asked. Right as she said it, she knew she had fucked up. The sea of questioning hands wavering in front of her was her own fault. It was going to be a long seminar.

As Heather walked out of the seminar hall, she paused, waiting to hear how it had gone. She had heard half of a question, but when she leaned against the door for a closer listen, a frustrated yell echoed out of the hall.

Heather recognized that scream. It was one she had heard before; different context, but still the same scream. Fuck. I guess we're not done yet.

The two women sat in Lillian's office, gathered around the terminal. They didn't look quite themselves, but that was intentional. Heather was wearing one of Lillian's dazzlecoats, a shirt borrowed from Lillian hanging loosely open around her tank-top. Lillian, in turn, was wearing one of Heather's sweaters, a cobalt blue knit turtleneck, and one of Heather's favorite pairs of jeans.

"Lillian, what are you thinking?"

Lillian continued to navigate the computer as she replied. "Okay. So we tried holding hands, that didn't work. We tried making out, still no. We've ruined seminars, interrupted meetings, even swapped our fucking clothes. And yet, other than Harry and fucking Wettle, nobody knows that we're dating."

"So what's next?" Heather didn't know how far this was going to go, but knowing Lillian? She wasn't going to give up until everybody knew about them.

"I was thinking this." Lillian opened her email, and in one swift series of keystrokes, penned a manifesto.

From:

To:

CC:

Subject:

L.Lillihammer@scp.int

Site-43 Section Chairs

Site-43 Staff

We're Lesbians

Dear employees of Site-43,

I didn't want to resort to this, but you have all left me with no choice. We tried to resolve this quietly, but it appears that we work with the least observant staffers in the entire Foundation.

This email is to announce that myself, Lillian Lillihammer, and Heather Garrison, are romantically involved. She is my girlfriend, and I am hers. We're in love, and we're girls, okay? Lesbians exist, I promise you.

This is a real relationship, and we're tired of hiding it from everybody. If somehow you still don't get it, the next email is going to be a visual cognitohazard.

Consider yourselves warned.

Dr. Lillian Lillihammer

Section Chair, Memetics and Countermemetics

Secure, Contain, Protect

"You're emailing the entire staff." Heather said, unsurprised at her girlfriend. Lillian really goes all out, doesn't she?

"Yeah. I'm fucking done. If they don't get it by now, I think they might just be braindead." Lillian, knowing her email was impeccable, pressed "send".

"So what now?" Heather asked.

"Now? Nothing, hopefully. This email should do all the work, and we can finally be public with our relationship."

"You want to be public, huh?" Heather teased. "I didn't realize you were such an exhibitionist."

"I'm an exhibitionist? You should talk Heath; I think you're the only person in the entire Site who wears crop tops." Lillian stuck her tongue out at her girlfriend, finally relaxing after their 'ordeal'.

"Hey! It's not like we're doing lab work with chemicals, so why can't I wear a crop top?"

"I never said that." Lillian said in a low, sultry voice. "You think I don't enjoy seeing you wearing one?"

A shiver went down Heather's spine.

"Yeah? I figured that you liked it better when I wasn't wearing one."

"I mean, if I have to pick, I'm going to go with you nak—"

Lillian's terminal make a loud beep, piercing through their flirting and knocking both women off balance, their focus pulled back to the terminal.

"Was that a reply?" Heather asked, moving back to looking over Lillian's shoulder.

"Yeah. If it's just somebody complaining about this email, I'm ignoring it though." Lillian grinned, but her face quickly faltered when she saw the reply. "This is— huh. Weird. Harry wrote this?"

From:

To:

CC:

Subject:

H.Blank@scp.int

L.Lillihammer@scp.int

Site-43 Staff

RE: We're Lesbians

Hi all,

I am sending this email to tell you all the truth: Lillian and Heather are not dating.

It's obvious that this is just a ploy to make the Foundation seem more inclusive in the wake of our recent 'Valentine's Day Mandated Celebration'. We all saw what happened there, it's clear that they were in desperate need of good PR.

Unfortunately, it appears that Lillian and Heather have been victimized; they are being used as a 'diversity win' by the greater Foundation EC Advisory Board. Frankly, I'm appalled that an organization would reduce and stereotype these two transgender and queer women, and I'm even more upset that the EC Advisory Board forced Dr. Lillihammer to send that email.

To all staff, this is a reminder — no matter the representation, always consider whether what you are reading is authentic, or just propaganda.

Dr. Harold Blank

Section Chair, Archives and Revisions

Secure, Contain, Protect

Harry laughed to himself as he reread the email. Lillian's going to be pissed.

As he enjoyed the seeds of his prank, he looked to his office door, remembering the last time Lillian had stormed into his room. I can't believe she kicked in my door. Again.

Every time Lillian destroyed Harry's door, he would get maintenance to repair it with a slightly different handle. Maybe one day, she would remember how to use a door instead of just kicking it down — he very much doubted it.

So when his office door slammed inwards, bouncing against the rubber stopper affixed to the wall, Harry was neither surprised, nor upset; it was just another day in his life.

"Harry, what the fuck man?"

Lillian led the way, but Heather wasn't far behind. They're still wearing each other's clothes. I'm surprised they haven't taken them off today, given how… ravenous they are.

Harry carefully adjusted the frame on his desk, trying not to think too much about the sexual appetite of his closest, oldest friend. He smiled — neither woman had seen the picture yet. Good.

"What can I do for you, Lillian?"

"Don't 'what can I do for you Lillian' me. Why the hell did you send that email?" Lillian raged, the maelstrom coming ever closer. Harry knew that he had gotten under her skin in a way nobody else could.

"Honestly? For this reaction." He chuckled. "It's a pretty good joke."

Heather jumped in now, failing to hide her frustration. "A joke? Harry, we've been trying to get people to realize we're dating for over a week now. Despite that, only you and Wettle seem to know anything about our relationship. That email was supposed to fix things."

"Oh, gotcha." Harry scratched his head, while giving the two women a sheepish grin. "For what it's worth, it was pretty funny, right?"

"Fucking hilarious, Harry. I love undermining my co-workers, it's such a cute habit you have." If looks could kill, Lillian's would have turned him to ash.

Huh. Harry paused, thinking to himself. This is an actual thing Lillian's upset about. Shit.

"Hey, I'm sorry about the email, but I thought it was pretty clear I was making a joke. When has the advisory committee ever done anything?" Harry asked, attempting to defuse the situation.

"Harry, I don't think you get it." Lillian sat down into a chair, rubbing her temples. "I'm at the end of my rope. We've been at this for days now, and I spend every waking minute trying to figure out how to spread the information of Heather and I dating throughout the Site. I don't want to, but my next solution is to make a fucking infohazard about it."

Heather stood behind Lillian's chair and gently began to squeeze and massage the tension in her shoulders. Lillian's face lightened at Heather's touch, relaxing into the sensations.

"Peaceful is a good look on you, Lillian." Harry said. "If you two have really tried that hard, why hasn't it worked?"

"Exactly." Heather replied. "It's way beyond being unlucky at this point. With the amount of things we've done, there's no way that the only two people who know at this Site are only people Lillian socializes with the most."

"What? I don't fucking socialize with Wettle by choice." Lillian grumbled.

"I know Lilli, but you do hunt him down constantly to make fun of him. That's socializing babe."

"But nobody else knows?" Harry asked.

"Nobody."

I wonder…

"What if it's not just bad luck?" Harry asked, knowing that Heather and Lillian would handle the rest. Sometimes, all they needed was just a little push.

"Fuck. FUCK! You're right, god damn it." Lillian threw her head back in frustration, while Heather balled her hands into fists.

"It's a fucking anomaly." Heather concluded.

"My thoughts exactly. Was there anything else you two needed, or can I have my office back?"

The two women had started talking to each other in a low, rapid tone; Harry tried to keep up, but quickly lost the thread.

"Heather? Lillian? Are you two done?"

Still nothing. Harry sighed, before shrugging and returning to his terminal. Unfortunately for him, administrative work was never over.

He almost hadn't noticed when Lillian and Heather got up and left his office — but at the last minute, Lillian noticed the new frame on his desk.

"What do we have here Harry, a picture of your new girlfriend?" Lillian reached out to grab the frame, turning it around as she did. She locked eyes with him, daring Harry to reply. Before he could, Heather noticed what was in the frame.

"Wait, what the fuck is that?" Heather grabbed the frame from Lillian, who had finally noticed the picture inside. It was of Heather and Lillian, foreheads pressed against each other — a true moment of catharsis captured of both of them.

"Oh that?" Harry beamed at the two. "Don't you two just look so darling in it?"

"Fuck you Harry, seriously? When did you take thi— actually, you know what? I don't want to know. Let's go Heather, we've got an anomaly to identify."

Heather nodded, leading the way back out of Harry's office. As they left, Harry noticed that the frame was back on his desk — but it was empty.

Wow. Lillian really fell hard.

Lillian and Heather stood in front of the "Orphaned Document Storage" room, an empty footnote in Site-43's history. That was the fate of all things kept within the Smokestacks; to be present, but forgotten. If there was an anomaly specific to Site-43, they might just find the proof in here.

Unfortunately, the card reader beeped and blinked red — the doors refused to budge, despite Lillian's best efforts.

"Seriously? Fine, let's go grab Harry's ID." Lillian started to walk away, but stopped when she heard another beep, and the doors whooshing open. Heather was standing beside the door, looking back at her with a sheepish grin. The card reader was solid green.

"You already stole it? Sneaky babe."

"What? No, my card just worked."

"Your card worked? So a researcher can access this room, but a Section Chair can't? I'm going to need to talk to Harry about—"

"He was the one who gave my card access, actually."

"He did? Since when?" Has she been keeping secrets from me? Lillian thought to herself, an unfamiliar sensation of doubt washing over her.

Heather shrugged. "Since I forgot."

Right.

Heather continued. "The next day I asked Harry if I could head back to the Smokestacks to triple check something — once we finished the experiment, I had started to feel like there was something I needed to look at in the archive, but I didn't want to freak you out. You were still walking on glass around me, and I didn't want you panicking over something that could be meaningless."

Lillian wasn't sure exactly what she was feeling; she had only known one dynamic in her relationships. Lillian was the one who asked somebody out, she was the one who broke up, she was the one who made decisions and she was the one in control.

Heather isn't like anybody else.

"So he gave you access. Right. Did you find anything?" Lillian was doing her best to adjust to the new paradigm, but some habits are harder to break.

"Not really. It was weird, I didn't find anything new, but…" Heather trailed off, looking worried. Lillian walked across the hall, and held Heather's arm.

"Hey. We're in this together, okay?" Lillian gave her girlfriend a comforting smile. I want to be here for her. Always. "So what did you find?"

"I knew exactly where the documents were. The ones about 'absence', that is. It wasn't anything like last time, I didn't get lost once."

"That's… weird."

"Yeah, you think?" Heather shook her head, holding her left arm with her hand. "I… there was something else."

"Hey. You can always tell me anything babe. You know that, right?" Lillian was grabbing Heather's hand a bit tighter than she meant to, but Heather didn't seem to mind.

"I know that. Thank you Lilli, it means a lot to me. I just… if I say something about it, then it's real and we have to deal with it." Heather was staring at the floor, unable to meet Lillian's gaze.

So Lillian tilted Heather's chin up with her hand, softly caressing her girlfriend's face.

"We've got this, no matter what. You're never going to be alone, alright? Not as long as I'm here."

Heather nodded, leaning in to Lillian's shoulder. "Thanks." Quiet, almost a whisper, a secret shared between the two lovers. Heather reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, handing it to Lillian.

"This is what I found."

Once upon a time, the nameless princess and the silver alchemist lived far away, in a castle protected from monotony.

"What does it mean?" Heather asked, looking for assurance that everything was going to be alright. Lillian frowned.

"I don't know what it means. But we can find out. Together."

Heather nodded. "Okay. But let's figure out why nobody knows we're dating first?"

"Yeah. One thing at a time, right?" Heather relaxed, and grabbed Lillian's hand, pulling her into the Smokestacks; in her other hand, Lillian was gripping the scrap of paper tightly.

I don't know what this is yet, but I don't like it.

"Hey, I think I've got something over here."

Heather looked up from her scattering of loose pages, and saw Lillian waving an envelope at her.

"You're sure it's not just another false positive?" Heather had her doubts. They had been digging through the Smokestacks for a few hours now, and had only come up with proof that straight people had dated at Site-43. Unfortunately for them, any evidence proving that somebody was queer while not being recognized as such was much more difficult to locate.

"You used to work at Site-19, yeah?"

Heather rolled over to be beside her girlfriend, their chairs bumping against each other.

"Yeah, for a couple years right when I was starting at the Foundation. Why?"

Lillian passed Heather the envelope.

"I found this folder — it was from a 'Diversity at the Foundation' conference, Site-43 hosted it in 2015. Not only are there photos of the attendees, but they were nice enough to include captions on the photos."

Heather caught on immediately. "I worked at Site-19 right after that. So if there's any people we know are queer—"

"—who are captioned as being 'just friends'—"

"Then we have definitive proof that not only is there an anomaly around this, but it's localized to Site-43."

"Exactly. So now we just need to get lucky. Do you want to do the honors, princess?"

Princess? Heather thought. "Is that my new pet name?" she teased.

"If you want it to be, sure. Anything for you, princess."

Heather giggled and shook her head. She unraveled the string that was keeping the folder sealed, and opened the folder, photos pouring out and covering the desk. Without a word, the two women began to grab photographs, checking the back for the captions.

"So am I going to find you in this, Lilli?"

"Me?" Lillian snorted. "Hell no! Have you ever known me to want to go to a Foundation conference? Yes, of course I love going somewhere and dealing with people who know nothing about memetics, it's just such a delight explaining the basics over and over again."

"Wouldn't they try and make you go as Section Chair?"

"Sure, they tried."

"How did you get out of it?"

"I faked a coma."

"You faked a coma?"

"Yeah. The doctors in medical were freaking out, they had no clue what had caused it — they were running tests left and right, all the while I was finally getting a break to just lie down and think. Honestly, it was a great week."

Lillian's lyrical laughter warmed Heather up, the anxieties of the unknown having faded with her partner by her side.

"Hey, these people are from Site-19, right?"

Lillian passed Heather a photo — a group of researchers from multiple Sites stood around laughing, two very familiar men in the center. That's Clef. And Kondraki? God I miss those two knuckleheads. They were wearing less formal clothes, and looked more at ease than Heather had seen either of the two men while she worked at Site-19, but it was definitely them.

She flipped the photo over, and read the caption aloud.

"Pictured Center — Alto Clef and Benjamin Kondraki, Site-19 Staff." Heather smiled. "Help me find another picture of them, maybe one where it's just the two of them?"

Without a word, Lillian slid over another photo — Clef and Kondraki were standing, arms over each other's shoulders. Clef was wearing a tight-fitting tracksuit jacket, staring at Ben and grinning like an idiot. Heather smiled, and flipped the picture over.

"A. Clef and B. Kondraki, Site-19. Good Friends and Platonic Roommates." Heather read the caption with a slow, definitive pace. "Fuck, we did it."

"Are they not just good pals who live together and hang out all the time, but are both super straight?"

"You know what? Shockingly, no!" Heather laughed, finally having figured out part of the mystery.

"But they were roommates, Heath! So you were there, was it just a casual thing or?"

"I'm not sure. I do know that they considered themselves as in a relationship, and everybody at Site-19 who knew either of them was aware of what was going on. The fact that they weren't recognized specifically when they were at Site-43 means—"

''— That we were right, as always." Lillian was feeling smug, but so was Heather. It's nice to have a win.

"So do you want to see just how deep the rabbit hole is?" Heather asked, ready to jump back into things.

Heather watched as Lillian tapped her index and middle fingers rapidly on the desk. She's so cute when she gets excited, I wonder if she knows she does that. Heather got lost in Lillian's rhythm, synchronized in their focus.

It was a busy and crowded night in Activities Hall C, the de facto space for hosting Site-wide events. Tonight was the monthly Pride-Luck, an event that was started years ago by McInnis and Blank as a tribute to Scout and Rydderech, that quickly became the biggest social gathering for the Site.

Tonight was no different. Music played over the speakers, staff of all genders and orientations enjoying themselves in a space where they didn't have to mask anything — they could just be themselves. The only difference was, for the first time in years, Lillian Lillihammer was in attendance.

She smiled, watching as Heather joked around with a researcher she didn't recognize. She's such a social butterfly, how does she manage to make so many friends? Lillian thought back to just how quickly the two of them had bonded, realizing that Heather had made her feel at ease almost immediately.

I can't believe she loves me back.

Heather finally noticed Lillian staring, waving excitedly, and quickly concluded her conversation. She walked across the dance floor, her jeans hugging her hips as her knit crop-top stretched, showing Lillian a teasing glimpse of what lay underneath. Suddenly, in her standard dazzlecoat and shirt, Lillian felt underdressed.

"Hey babe, here's our drinks, sorry about the delay — I ran into Loam, the new researcher heading up the anomalous botany committee, and they were just congratulating me on 'bagging you'. You should meet them sometime, I think you'd like them!"

"You'll have to set that up, but I'd love to babe." Lillian lifted her drink out of her girlfriend's hand, and with her hand on Heather's lower back, pulled her close. Lillian got lost in their delicate and playful kiss, which was only interrupted by the crowd noticing and beginning to whistle and cheer.

"Get a room you two!" A voice yelled from the dance floor, breaking the two women's reverie — they stopped for air, both blushing, and staying attached at the hip.

Harry had come in during their interlude, and was approaching the couple, a confused look on his face.

"You guys figured it out? Damn, I was looking forward to fucking with you more."

"Of course we did Harry, have you seen us?" Lillian teased back, unwilling to let anything get under her skin tonight.

"So how did you do it? Did you make a "Lesbian Romance Meme" or did you conceptually associate the two of you within the noosphere forever? Or maybe Heather finally convinced you to try some 'witchcraft'?"

"Well I don't know if I'd call 'burning incense with focused meditation' witchcraft, but no, we didn't do any of that." Now let's just see how long I can drag this out…

Harry followed up immediately. "Well what was it then? Obviously you identified the problem."

"Yep." Heather said, picking up on Lillian's goal. "So we did some research, and noticed some weird things."

"Sure, our jobs are exclusively 'weird things', can you be more specific?"

Heather smiled politely at Harry, before answering him.

"Specific? I don't know, I'm worried that if I'm too specific you might think it's just propaganda."

Lillian laughed. "You remember why this Pride-luck started, right Harry?"

Harry nodded. "McInnis and I wanted to host something to recognize the queer history of the Site, especially since…" He paused, the pieces coming together in his mind.

"Since so few people realized that Scout and Rydderech were gay lovers."

"Oh my god." Harry covered his open mouth with his hand, the realization hitting him. "Has there always been an anomaly here?"

Lillian and Heather nodded. "Seems like it. As far as we can tell, there's a bureaucratihazard that only affects queer relationships, making them unrecognizable except by closer friends. The anomaly impacts how the relationships are perceived, with only heteronormative relationships bypassing the effect."

"So how did you beat it?" Harry asked. "I heard the cheers and yelling, people know you two are dating now. What did you do?"

Lillian smiled deviously. I was waiting for this question.

"Mmmm, I don't think we'll tell you."

"Seriously Lillian?" Harry said exasperatedly. "Heather, will you tell me what you two did?"

"Harry, I would never betray my girlfriend, how could you ask me to?" The mock shock from Heather only made Lillian smile more, watching as Harry internally blew a fuse.

"Please?" Harry asked, pleading with the two women.

"Fine." Lillian moved closer to Harry, covertly looking around before putting her hand against his ear in a conspiratorial whisper. "We had to do something that I had promised myself I wouldn't do again."

"Lillian! Seriously, we talked about this? You have to stop making predatory infohazards, eventually command will realize something and everything will catch up to you."

"Who said anything about an infohazard?"

"So what did you two do then?"

Lillian and Heather shared a silent look, agreeing that Harry had been made to suffer long enough.

"We told HR."

The sputtering and spit take was well worth the week of fighting the two women had been though. Once Harry calmed down, he locked eyes with Lillian.

"Let me get this straigh— let me get this queer. All you had to do was tell HR and suddenly, your relationship existed?"

"Exactly."

"So what did you tell them?"

Lillian and Heather reached around, holding each other's shoulders and laughing. In unison, the two answered.

"That we were roommates."

Don't Let Me Forget

Forgotten Memories

The Heart Grows Fonder