Los Angeles, Fandom's Reality, Sunday

[spin_kick_snap]

It took several days (and several nights' worth of nightmares) for Kathy to face what she really needed to do. It wasn't LA that she was hoping she'd find alive.

It was her family.

She knew that there were other versions of her that existed elsewhere. There was Lady, in Limbo City, and every time something weird happened on Fandom. Maybe there would be one that existed here, too. Maybe she'd see her family, alive, one more time - just verify that they were safe, and happy, and doing okay. That was all she needed. Then she could collect the guys and her dog and go home to Limbo City. That wasn't too much to ask, was it.

They'd called Dante that morning to join them on their last day in the city and then, after lunch, she'd left them and Ronin behind to finish this one last task. This was just one of those things, she had to do alone.

It was uncanny, how much it looked like home. Not a perfect reflection; there was no graffiti for the 17s, no kids with green bandannas hustling on the street corners. What Kathy remembered as a nail salon was now an Asian grocery store. There was no man-shaped indentation in the brick wall of the bakery from where Blockbuster had tripped into the building; that streetlamp was still standing, instead of being taken out by Painkiller's car the night Gorgon had been shot. Little things she knew to look for, if only to fight down the rising tide of deja-vu. Except that was why she was here, wasn't it?

Her old building though, that was identical. The barebones playscape in the side 'courtyard' was the same, still sad and faded, the plastic bulging and the metal rusted. There had never been enough children in the building at once to warrant fixing it. The fire escape ran up the side of the building, Kathy could pick out the room that had been hers, once upon a time. But instead, she went around to the front door of the building, shaking the handle of the door three times until it unlatched, an old trick everyone in the building knew. It worked here, too. Inside, she ignored the bank of mailboxes, much like she'd ignored the roster of names out front. What would a name tell her? Names changed easily, she told herself; just asked Arkham and Mary. But it was more than that: she didn't want to get her hopes up by a scrawled Li (or even Lee, in case they hadn't kept the Chinese spelling) on the mailbox, only to have them dashed when the door opened to reveal a stranger.

Up she went, all seven floors, skipping the asthmatic elevator that took the same amount of time as walking and shuddered to boot. Then down the hall that even smelled the same, of cooked meals and mildewed wood and dusty carpet underfoot. Finally, she stopped at her old door, fighting down the urge to just open it up and call out, "I'm home!" while kicking her shoes off. Instead, she knocked. And held her breath.

	A slightly frazzled-looking woman opened the door, easily a decade too young to be Kathy's mother. "Yes?" she asked, looking at Kathy with some confusion. "Uh, may I help you?"
	"Uhhh..." Kathy blinked stupidly at the woman in the doorway. She'd prepared with answers and excuses if her family opened the door, whether they recognized her or not, but she'd somehow never bothered to prep for strangers. "I. Umm. You - Uh."
	The woman politely let her stammer for a moment and then a baby started fussing. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I don't accept solicitors." She started to close the door.
	"Wait!" Kathy said, seeing her chance of getting any information at all vanishing behind the door. "Please wait. I'm not selling anything! I'm not - I was hoping - I live here!" ...Shit.
	That got the door to stop closing, at least. "Look, miss," the woman said, sound tired. "I've got a colicky nine-month old and I work second shift. I dunno what you're playing at--"
	"No, please, it's not like that!" Kathy said quickly. "I mean, I used to. I think." The woman rolled her eyes and continued to shut the door. "I'm looking for my family!" Kathy all-but shouted. The door paused; the woman still looked irritated, but she was listening. All Kathy had to was...make something coherent out of all this. "I'm adopted." Okay, good start. "This is the address is pretty much the extent of my documentation."
	The door swung back open again, suspicion fading from the woman's expression to be replaced by sympathy. "Hoping they still lived here?" She shook her head. "You come far?"
	Kathy nodded, relieved. "The East Coast," she said, ruefully. "Made a trip of it. Saved this till the last day. Had to work up my courage, you know?"
	The woman stepped aside. "Wanna come in and see the place?" she offered.
	Kathy shook her head and gave the woman a wan smile. "No, I..." Her voice broke and she shook her head. "Don't wanna intrude. Um. I don't suppose you know anything about the people who lived here before you?"
	"I don't, sorry," the woman said, eyebrows drawing together. "It was empty for almost a year before I moved in, right before the baby. Hell, I don't even know most of the neighbors who live here now."
	"Oh," Kathy said, eyes downcast. "Okay. I'm, um, really sorry to have bothered you." She turned to go.
	"Wait!" the woman called. The baby started to cry in earnest, but she still paused in the doorway. "I do know one neighbor! Up on the fifteenth floor. 1507. Her name is Mrs. Park. She's been here forever, pretty much, and knows everybody. Tell her Ann from 747 sent you. She'll know anything there is to know about your family."
	Kathy blinked at her, surprised. Mrs. Park? There was a Mrs. Park here? "I - okay!" she said, nodding frantically. "I will!" Mrs.Park! She stayed at a normal speed until she got to the stairwell, and then practically bounced up the next seven flight, automatically jumping over the stair on the ninth floor that was loose and moving her hand at the last second to avoid the area of splintered wood from where Mr. Kim's secret dog had chewed it all up. That had been a scandal from before she'd been born, but she'd heard about it growing up anyway like it had just happened a week ago.
	Mrs. Park's door and her voice floated down the hallway, greeting Kathy on her way. "--I think that's her now," came. "Thank you for telling me, Ann. Remember, a little clove-juice on Pat's gums will quiet him. Bye now." By the time Kathy made it to her apartment, Mrs. Park had hung up and was standing there to greet her. Or possibly take her measure. There was an air of steel around her, for all that she hunched over a bit. "My, you didn't waste any time at all, did you? Ann couldn't believe you were already at my door. Said you hadn't left a whole minute ago."
	It took Kathy a moment to answer. While everything else was exactly as she remembered, Mrs. Park was not. She'd always been old, pretty much since Kathy could remember, but now she looked ancient. Wait. She'd asked her a question and that look of impatience was as familiar as always, even if there were a few more wrinkles over it. "No ma'am," Kathy said, very glad she'd worn something a little more conservative than her usual 'tiny skirts and halter tops.' "She was busy with her son when I left, maybe she hadn't realized how much time had passed?" She felt bad for lying, but it was better than I'm a preturnatural speedster. "But she said you might know my family?"
	"Mmm, possible," Mrs. Park said. "At least, I knew the last three families that lived there, though I'm not sure any of them are yours. Come in and sit down," she added. "I'll make tea."
	Kathy followed the old woman inside and tried to act like she didn't know exactly where she was going. While not frequent visitors, the Li girls had spent enough time in the apartment to be familiar with the layout, from the dish of Korean candies on the living room table - probably old enough to have emigrated with Mrs. Park - to the picture of her husband in the hallway, to the ripped plastic upholstery of her dining room chairs. She was surprised when Mrs. Park led her to living room to drink tea, but she supposed Mrs. Park saw her as an adult who could be trusted not to spill, as opposed to the little girl she'd been. "You don't think any of them are mine...?" she asked, sitting down.
	Mrs. Park didn't answer until she'd provided tea for the both of them, roasted brown rice nokcha in porcelain cups so thin Kathy could see the light through them. "Like I said, I know the three families that lived in that unit before Ann moved in," she said after a long sip. "And I don't see how any of them could be yours, Miss...?"
	"Spencer," she said quickly. "Kathy Spencer." It seemed a little on the nose to offer 'Li.'
	"Kathy, hmm? One of them had a Kathy, but..." She shook her head. "No. There were the Jeongs, but they were a young couple, just got married when they moved in. They only stayed for a four years, while they finished school. Jae-ho got a job in the Valley and they moved. And before them were the Choi's. Big family. Too many children to fit in that apartment. Who has five children these days?" She took another long sip. They moved in...2007? 2008? Far too late for you to have been adopted and not know who your people are.
	Kathy nodded, her heart sinking. She was realizing the flaw in her plan. "And the last family?"
	"The Li's," Mrs. Park said. "Moved in around 1995, moved out around 2006. Two girls, even. The oldest named Kathy. She'd be about your age now, I think." Mrs. Park looked at Kathy with dark eyes. "But you couldn't be that girl. She was maybe ten when her parents moved out, all of them hale and hearty."
	"Do you know where they went?" Kathy asked. "What happened to them? Are they okay? Do they still keep in touch?"
	"Awfully interested in those folks who aren't yours," Mrs. Park tsked.
	Kathy searched for a good answer. "I don't know they're not," she said. "Meningitis. I had meningitis. Most of everything from before that is a big blur." Thank you, Sparda, for that handy excuse.
	"Most of everything?" Mrs. Park was looking at her with gimlet eyes, clearly not buying what she was selling. "What do you remember?"
	Time for a bit of truth then. "A table," she said, looking chagrined. "I know, it's a random thing. Might only be a dream for all I know. But I remember a big, heavy table. Lacquered and colorful. Sharp edges. The kind of table that would hurt to walk into." The kind of table that could kill, if you weren't careful. "I don't know if they are my family," she said, as Mrs. Park's eyes went wide with recognition. "Maybe not. Maybe someone just used a convenient address. Maybe it was a weird mix-up. But they had a Kathy and I'm Kathy and this is where it brought me. So even if they're not mine, I'd just like to know."
	Mrs. Park looked at her once again, peering into her eyes like she could read her soul. And then she nodded, set aside her cup, and took Kathy's hands. "So, Kathy Li was born at the end of December, just a few days early for Christmas..." she began.

Kathy left several hours later, carrying a reusable shopping bag full of banana milk, various blends of tea and several jars of kimchi. More importantly, she also had a recipe for kimchi. Not just any recipe, either. Her mother's recipe, shared with Mrs. Park one winter day the first year the Lis had moved in. That alone was worth the trip.

And...her family was out there. Somewhere. They existed. Somewhere, there was a Sarah Li, brash and sassy, finishing up her last year of high school. And there was a Kathy Li, hopefully spreading her wings at a college some where, learning to be her own person. Mrs. Park didn't have - or wouldn't share - their contact information, but honestly? That was enough. There was another world with her family in it, neither bitten by zombies nor summoning demons, living and laughing and loving.

Today, that was enough.

[Mooostly establishy? But also for those guys she's with. And, surprising no one, I wrote a goddamned book.]