In those final minutes, the clock ticking away the last of her time, she makes one last call.
It rings five times. She almost thinks it's hopeless, but then there is a click and a familiar voice says, "Hello?"
"Mara?" says Bela, almost laughing with relief.
There is a clatter of metal and plastic, as if something is being dropped or fumbled. Silence, and then, "You must have the wrong number. This is Charlie Bradbury."
Bela can't help but smile. A new name, a new identity, probably a new state and a new job, but Mara kept this number. "Sweetie, it's me," she says, "It's Bela."
"I am not your swee…" she hisses, "Why are you… You know what? Just wait. Give me a second."
Bela gives her a second, a precious second, a second that she doesn't have to spare. She listens to the lightning-fast click of keys as Mara – no, not Mara, Charlie now – locks her computer. There is a shuffle of feet on carpet, and conversational voices fading in and out, before a door slams and there is silence. The next time Charlie speaks, her voice reverberates just slightly, as if she is in an enclosed space. "What do you want?" she asks.
"Did you shut yourself in a broom closet?" Bela says.
"So what if I did?" says Charlie, her voice squeaking, "I'm a Muggle now, okay? I work in an office! If someone asks who I'm talking to I can't exactly say, 'Oh, it's just an old buddy from when I used to run tech support for robbers!"
"Oh, please," says Bela, "Robbers have no subtlety. I'm a thief."
"Bela!" Charlie groans, "What do you want?"
A glib comment dies on Bela's tongue. For a moment, she had allowed herself to enjoy just listening to Charlie's voice as if it were the old days.
As if she weren't currently preparing herself for death.
"Ma… Charlie," says Bela, her voice becoming heavy again as the fear rushes back into her, "I'm sorry. I know I promised I wouldn't call you again, but there's something I need to tell you."
"What?" Charlie snaps.
It was always easy, talking to Charlie. Even for someone as tight-lipped as Bela, the words had always flowed. Maybe that's why she chose this number to call. She hadn't been able to tell Dean; she had meant to, but her pride had gotten in the way at the last moment. But Charlie. Charlie won't judge. Charlie won't pity. She can tell Charlie everything, and then, even after she's died, there will be at least one person in the world who knows the truth.
She opens her mouth, but the words won't come.
"Bela?" says Charlie, "You still there?"
She tries again, but she cannot make a sound. The pressure is building behind her eyes and in her chest again, and she realizes that she can't do it. She can't say the words. Maybe there are no words for this, not when she has so little time to explain. Or maybe her own heart is sabotaging her – so accustomed to keeping this secret, it won't let her divulge it even now.
She will take it to her grave. And suddenly, she is okay with that. Especially if it means that Charlie will remember her as a daring thief instead of as a scared little victim who sold her soul to escape her tormenters only to find a different kind of torment waiting for her ten years later.
"I'm here," Bela finally manages to say, even though her voice is cracking now, "I just wanted to tell you that, no matter how things ended between us, you were the best partner I ever had. I kept a lot of secrets from you, and I lied to you a lot…"
"I know," says Charlie, and even though she still sounds annoyed there is a note of concern in her voice.
"But I hope you know," says Bela as the first tears begin to roll down the well-marked tracks on her cheeks, "That when I told you that I loved you, I meant it."
There is a long pause before Charlie replies, this time without a hint of impatience, "Bel, are you okay?"
Bela is sobbing again, but she manages to choke out, "I'm sorry to bother you at work. Enjoy your Muggle life, sweetie. You won't hear from me again."
"Bela, wait…"
Bela hangs up the phone, sets it on the bedside table, and waits for the end.
Only one person in the world knows her whole story.
Fill: Bela/Charlie
It rings five times. She almost thinks it's hopeless, but then there is a click and a familiar voice says, "Hello?"
"Mara?" says Bela, almost laughing with relief.
There is a clatter of metal and plastic, as if something is being dropped or fumbled. Silence, and then, "You must have the wrong number. This is Charlie Bradbury."
Bela can't help but smile. A new name, a new identity, probably a new state and a new job, but Mara kept this number. "Sweetie, it's me," she says, "It's Bela."
"I am not your swee…" she hisses, "Why are you… You know what? Just wait. Give me a second."
Bela gives her a second, a precious second, a second that she doesn't have to spare. She listens to the lightning-fast click of keys as Mara – no, not Mara, Charlie now – locks her computer. There is a shuffle of feet on carpet, and conversational voices fading in and out, before a door slams and there is silence. The next time Charlie speaks, her voice reverberates just slightly, as if she is in an enclosed space. "What do you want?" she asks.
"Did you shut yourself in a broom closet?" Bela says.
"So what if I did?" says Charlie, her voice squeaking, "I'm a Muggle now, okay? I work in an office! If someone asks who I'm talking to I can't exactly say, 'Oh, it's just an old buddy from when I used to run tech support for robbers!"
"Oh, please," says Bela, "Robbers have no subtlety. I'm a thief."
"Bela!" Charlie groans, "What do you want?"
A glib comment dies on Bela's tongue. For a moment, she had allowed herself to enjoy just listening to Charlie's voice as if it were the old days.
As if she weren't currently preparing herself for death.
"Ma… Charlie," says Bela, her voice becoming heavy again as the fear rushes back into her, "I'm sorry. I know I promised I wouldn't call you again, but there's something I need to tell you."
"What?" Charlie snaps.
It was always easy, talking to Charlie. Even for someone as tight-lipped as Bela, the words had always flowed. Maybe that's why she chose this number to call. She hadn't been able to tell Dean; she had meant to, but her pride had gotten in the way at the last moment. But Charlie. Charlie won't judge. Charlie won't pity. She can tell Charlie everything, and then, even after she's died, there will be at least one person in the world who knows the truth.
She opens her mouth, but the words won't come.
"Bela?" says Charlie, "You still there?"
She tries again, but she cannot make a sound. The pressure is building behind her eyes and in her chest again, and she realizes that she can't do it. She can't say the words. Maybe there are no words for this, not when she has so little time to explain. Or maybe her own heart is sabotaging her – so accustomed to keeping this secret, it won't let her divulge it even now.
She will take it to her grave. And suddenly, she is okay with that. Especially if it means that Charlie will remember her as a daring thief instead of as a scared little victim who sold her soul to escape her tormenters only to find a different kind of torment waiting for her ten years later.
"I'm here," Bela finally manages to say, even though her voice is cracking now, "I just wanted to tell you that, no matter how things ended between us, you were the best partner I ever had. I kept a lot of secrets from you, and I lied to you a lot…"
"I know," says Charlie, and even though she still sounds annoyed there is a note of concern in her voice.
"But I hope you know," says Bela as the first tears begin to roll down the well-marked tracks on her cheeks, "That when I told you that I loved you, I meant it."
There is a long pause before Charlie replies, this time without a hint of impatience, "Bel, are you okay?"
Bela is sobbing again, but she manages to choke out, "I'm sorry to bother you at work. Enjoy your Muggle life, sweetie. You won't hear from me again."
"Bela, wait…"
Bela hangs up the phone, sets it on the bedside table, and waits for the end.
Only one person in the world knows her whole story.
Soon no one will.
And maybe that's the way it's supposed to be.