#zipps director's cut

[performativezippers]

I absolutely love Alone and would love the director’s cut of it, but particularly of this part

Kate is taller than Lucy by a good six inches, but she seems small right now, curled in on herself, like she’s bracing herself against something heavy and devastating.

Lucy’s forgotten to be angry for the last few minutes, too focused on figuring out the mystery of what is making Kate so twitchy, on picturing the woman she loved lying in pool of her own coagulating blood, but as the answer makes itself clear to her, she can already feel the rage starting to simmer in her gut again.

It’s the only gap in the timeline. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

All she has to say is, “How’d you get to the hospital?” and Kate looks up at her, pressing her lips into a thin, white line, the worry lines in her forehead standing out, stark and deep against the unhealthy pallor of her face.

Kate doesn’t bother to lie to her. “I took an uber,” she says, and, there it is.

Lucy fucking loses it.

The image of Kate in a fucking stranger’s car, huddled in the backseat, hiding her blood and her fear from some strange man, someone who could have taken advantage of her, hurt her even more. He must have smelled the blood, seen the clots in her hair. Lucy finds herself wanting to rip his head off; he, who was there at Kate’s most vulnerable moment, when he did fucking nothing to deserve it.

He, who was there when Lucy should have been.

The fury finds Lucy again and sweeps her off her feet, carrying her along in a wild current. She can tell that underneath the rapids are huge boulders of fear, but she lets herself skim the surface, only letting the pure rage touch her.

Oh i love this fic! This makes me happy.

This fic was from a prompt, which I rarely do these days, but it was such a great idea that it really grabbed me right away. I loved the idea of Kate being so alone that when something bad happens, she can't fathom having anyone there for her. I think a lot about living alone, being so isolated, lacking any sense of community like Season 1 Whistler did. As someone who is chronically ill and lucky enough to be married to a wonderful person, I don't have to worry about that. When I passed out in the bathroom a few years ago, she was literally right next to me, and by the time I came to she was already on the phone with 911, sat next to me for 12 hours in the ER while I waited to be seen, all that jazz. So thinking about a similar situation for Kate without a WifeZipps was really what gripped me here.

Also, random aside, the imagery of Kate waking up in the pool of her blood was inspired by an episode of Bones from the first season I think, where Bones is in New Orleans and she wakes up hurt and bleeding, alone, and she doesn't know where she is or what happened, or even if all the blood was hers. Booth flies down and is in a fucking tizzy the whole episode that someone hurt his (not)girlfriend, and so that's some of the energy I pulled into this fic.

Anyway, I wrote this fic originally as just the first chapter, just a sad Kate POV, and then I realized I wanted Lucy's response too, that maybe the meat of the fic was actually in Lucy's revelation, rather than Kate's injury.

What I enjoyed so much was playing with the POV's. In Kate's, re: the uber, all she says is: "She changes her bloody shirt, puts on a baseball hat and a jacket with a popped collar, and doesn’t give the driver a good look at the right side of her head. The drive isn’t long, but the waiting room at the hospital is full."

Meanwhile, as you posted above, Lucy says: "The image of Kate in a fucking stranger’s car, huddled in the backseat, hiding her blood and her fear from some strange man, someone who could have taken advantage of her, hurt her even more. He must have smelled the blood, seen the clots in her hair. Lucy finds herself wanting to rip his head off; he, who was there at Kate’s most vulnerable moment, when he did fucking nothing to deserve it. He, who was there when Lucy should have been."

Kate is so practical, right. "I put on a hat, it was fine." Meanwhile Lucy is catastrophizing but also much more correct, with her fear that he can see it, smell it, want to take advantage of it. Getting in an uber in the middle of the night as a woman alone is scary no matter what, and then if you're bleeding, hurt, disoriented, it's so much worse. I would be Lucy if my wife told me she took a fucking uber to the hospital with an open head wound. I would be so fucking scared for her.

I liked playing with Kate only realizing how fucking dumb that was when she sees it reflected in Lucy's eyes. And I like Lucy only realizing how alone Kate is when confronted with the matter-of-fact-ness of Kate's decision to go alone, to ride alone, to wait alone, to sleep alone, to clean up the blood alone. Kate is like, well obviously, what else would I have done? And that makes Lucy realize so many things. And I like that.

[performativezippers]

for the director's cut:

“You look like a sexy vampire,” Chloe says, grasping onto Helena’s bicep because she has absolutely no sense of personal space. “Like you’ve been around since the 1800’s, seducing people and drinking blood and generally lounging on, like, deep red velvet cushions.”

Helena laughs, and someone next to their table makes a slightly strangled sound.

Kate looks over to see Myka, who must have just walked up. She’s staring a Helena with a weird look on her face, but as soon as Kate takes a step towards her, she gives herself a little shake and focuses on Kate, the weirdness completely vanished. “Hey, Whistler,” she says, and Kate grins.

“Hey, Bering.”

Their hug is quick, because neither of them are naturally touchy. Myka’s hair is curlier than Kate’s ever seen it, like she’s finally figured out how to condition it properly, and she’s dressed the way she always is, in dark jeans and a simple purple cotton t-shirt. She looks like she gave absolutely no thought to being on TV, and Kate loves her for it.

Okay I have several Director's Cut asks about this section of the Ultimatum which I love! Here's this one.

In general, I love love LOVED writing this scene. I've never written Helena, Myka, or Chloe before, so it was really fun and challenging to simultaneously:

Pull them from their canons (Warehouse 13 and Pitch Perfect) and drop them into this one while remaining recognizable

Make them work as people Kate would actually be friends with

Fit into the conventions of The Ultimatum, aka fulfill the purposes of this brunch for the show

Move my fic's plot forward

Create tension for Kate and Lucy's romance arc

Show Kate and Lucy something new about each other

Show a new side of both Kate and Lucy to the readers

So that said, now let's play through this section. The fic is in black, my commentary is in purple.

“You look like a sexy vampire,” Chloe says, grasping onto Helena’s bicep because she has absolutely no sense of personal space. [Chloe Beale has negative zero conception of personal space. Doesn't she lick Beca's nose at some point? They basically make out the first night. This is just 100% canon Chloe and I love her. I also like thinking about some similarities between Beca and Helena, in terms of pasty-ass white girls with dark hair and enormous emotional walls.] “Like you’ve been around since the 1800’s, seducing people and drinking blood and generally lounging on, like, deep red velvet cushions.” [Obviously this is a joke/nod to Helena being a time traveler from the 1800s, and also I think she'd make a very sexy vampire. She HAS been seducing people since the 1800's and she looks like it! She'd do well against some blood red velvet cushions and I think Myka for one would like to see it]

Helena laughs, and someone next to their table makes a slightly strangled sound. [It's fun to find new ways to introduce characters! And in this setting, people keep arriving, so it was nice to say something other than "Now Myka walks in." I don't think Myka knew Helena would be here today, so not only is she (a) seeing Helena in the flesh for the first time in who knows how long, she's also (b) seeing Helena ON TELEVISION. This whole section is really just me playing with Helena wanting to take a bite out of Myka and Myka being desperately uncomfortable with how desperately she wants that to happen, while also trying--AND FAILING--to conceal all of it from Kate. Meanwhile Helena is like, Katie can know we fucked, darling, I'm not ashamed.]

Kate looks over to see Myka, who must have just walked up. She’s staring a Helena with a weird look on her face, but as soon as Kate takes a step towards her, she gives herself a little shake and focuses on Kate, the weirdness completely vanished. [Myka is good at focusing through absolutely wild shit going on] “Hey, Whistler,” she says, and Kate grins.

“Hey, Bering.” [SOMEONE needs to call Kate "Whistler" in this fic and I'm glad it got to be Myka! I feel like they would have called each other last names in college to mark themselves as different from the other sorority girls and I like that.]

Their hug is quick, because neither of them are naturally touchy. [Myka only touches HELENA] Myka’s hair is curlier than Kate’s ever seen it, like she’s finally figured out how to condition it properly, [I hate her straight hair fyi] and she’s dressed the way she always is, in dark jeans and a simple purple cotton t-shirt. She looks like she gave absolutely no thought to being on TV, and Kate loves her for it. [Myka's fashion sense is so funny. Everyone else on that show is so dated in what they wear -- the LONG TANK TOPS AND TINY VESTS, CLAUDIA, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD -- but for Myka it's like, cotton t-shirt and jeans of the week. I respect this. I wonder what Helena thinks about it.]

[performativezippers]

director's cut! director's cut! (also you have no idea the self control it took me not to just put the entirety of ultimatum here)

“Okay, enough. Stop with this dithering and nonsense.” She looks directly at Kate, and Kate feels a burst of nervousness explode in her throat. She loves Helena, but the woman kind of terrifies her. “Katie, you know I don’t like Cara, but this is a profoundly odd thing for you to have done. Not to put too fine a point on it, darling, but what the actual fuck is going on with you?”

Myka looks like she might have an aneurysm—or possibly an orgasm?—at the way Helena’s lips shape themselves around the word “fuck.”

Chloe laughs nervously, and Lucy goes very, very still.

Kate shrugs, trying to buy herself some time to get her thoughts in order. “I’m trying to figure out if the fact that I haven’t wanted to commit to Cara is a thing about me, or about her,” she finally says. She’s pretty proud of that—it’s not a lie, and it’s also not revealing, but Helena shakes her head.

But before Helena can object, oddly, Myka does. “That’s exactly what you said sixteen months ago, to the letter,” Myka says, and at Chloe and Lucy’s incredulous looks, she shrugs. “I have an eidetic memory. I remember everything.”

This time it’s Helena who looks like she might orgasm right here at the table. “Do you really, darling?” she breathes. “Could you recite me your favorite book?” When Myka gives her a tentative nod, Helena literally fans herself. “Good lord,” she mutters. “And looking like that!”

“Helena!” Kate chastises, because Myka looks like she might die. That, however, was a mistake, because it makes Helena remember that (a) Kate is there, and (b) Kate is damn liar.

“Katie, what you just said…Myka, could you be a dear and repeat it for us?”

Myka does so, dutifully and verbatim, and Helena thanks her and then turns her hard eyes on Kate. “That’s bullshit. Dearest, you know I care for you more than my own self, but that’s raw bollocks.”

“Oh my god,” Chloe says. “Raw bollocks? God, I love the English.” She turns to Helena, her face serious. “Will you marry me? You like girls, right? Let’s get married.”

Myka makes a strangled sound.

Helena laughs, a rich, throaty sound that makes Myka squirm in her chair.

“I do like girls, as well as boys, darling, and while I appreciate the proposal, I must say I have my eyes on someone else at this table.” She winks at Myka, who promptly squeaks and turns as exquisite shade of red, and Kate’s mouth falls open.

WE GO ON WITH MORE DIRECTOR'S CUTS! I hope this is fun for you, because this is HELLA fun for me and is truly the fanfic writers' dream. As with the last one, the fic is in black and my comments are in purple.

“Okay, enough. Stop with this dithering and nonsense.” [Never having written Helena before, and not having spent THAT much time in the canon, I was kinda out on a limb about her old-timey British turns of phrase. "Dithering" is a word I love that feels primarily used in British English, rather than American, so I jumped at the opportunity to use it. Also, in general, Helena seems to me to be the most likely of the 3 to interrupt the reality TV drivel with some real talk. I think Chloe loves reality TV so she's forgotten it's drivel, and Myka is too polite to say anything for a while. Helena, however, doesn't give a shit.] She looks directly at Kate, and Kate feels a burst of nervousness explode in her throat. She loves Helena, but the woman kind of terrifies her. [In which Kate is me] “Katie, you know I don’t like Cara, but this is a profoundly odd thing for you to have done. Not to put too fine a point on it, darling, but what the actual fuck is going on with you?”

Myka looks like she might have an aneurysm—or possibly an orgasm?—at the way Helena’s lips shape themselves around the word “fuck.” [Fic is fun because we can make the characters say bad words, and then respond to each other saying bad words! I would have loved to see Helena say "fuck," personally. Also LUCYYYYY]

Chloe laughs nervously, and Lucy goes very, very still. [I mean can you IMAGINE being sat down across from your new girlfriend of one week's closest people, and having them talk IN FRONT OF YOU about how they hate her ex and what the fuck is she doing with you?? And you're a tiny lesbian and they're three tall, hot women?? And earlier today you fucked Kate Whistler to within an inch of her life, and also incidentally you're fully convinced that you're not worthy of love???? I mean seriously, could you handle it? I couldn't!]

Kate shrugs, trying to buy herself some time to get her thoughts in order. “I’m trying to figure out if the fact that I haven’t wanted to commit to Cara is a thing about me, or about her,” she finally says. [I had a lot of trouble with this sentence. I'm still not 100% on it because I think it reads a little choppy.] She’s pretty proud of that—it’s not a lie, and it’s also not revealing, but Helena shakes her head. [My debut novel is all about skirting the line between truth and lies, so this type of line is simply flowing out of my fingertips at any given opportunity.]

But before Helena can object, oddly, Myka does. “That’s exactly what you said sixteen months ago, to the letter,” Myka says, and at Chloe and Lucy’s incredulous looks, she shrugs. “I have an eidetic memory. I remember everything.” [Okay honestly I don't think eidetic memories work the way we have them work in fiction/fic. I did a little research and then I shrugged and thought, who am I to buck 10 years of fanon about how Myka's memory works? So I present to you a highly fictionalized and likely unrealistic version of an eidetic memory for the rest of this section. If I'm wrong, please do not tell me because I am very fragile today and cannot handle criticism, thank you very much. HOWEVER, it is powerfully useful in situations like this, for calling bullshit on vague nothings that have been muttered over time by one evasive Katherine Whistler.]

This time it’s Helena who looks like she might orgasm right here at the table. [Sapiosexual vampire from the 1800's] “Do you really, darling?” she breathes. “Could you recite me your favorite book?” [Probably not, no] When Myka gives her a tentative nod, Helena literally fans herself. “Good lord,” she mutters. “And looking like that!” [I love that Helena says exactly what she thinks. Or, more accurately, she says exactly what she wants you to think she's thinking. I think she's always powerfully self-censoring, both in canon obviously, and here. I think she gives off the impression that she has a Chloe-like lack of filter, when in fact she's much more like Kate in terms of protecting the intel that is her inner self. But when she says stuff like this, you're like, "oh that's just Helena, girl blurts it all out, blunt as fuck," so then you don't suspect that she's hiding just as much as Kate is, if not more. So here she's like "I WANT TO FUCK MYKA," which is true of course, but also is hiding all of her concerns about Kate that she doesn't want Kate to notice. Obfuscation, misdirection, this time traveler can do it all!]

“Helena!” Kate chastises, because Myka looks like she might die. That, however, was a mistake, because it makes Helena remember that (a) Kate is there, and (b) Kate is damn liar. [this makes me laugh, that's all. i love a good list.]

“Katie, what you just said…Myka, could you be a dear and repeat it for us?”

Myka does so, dutifully and verbatim, and Helena thanks her and then turns her hard eyes on Kate. “That’s bullshit. Dearest, [darling, be a dear, dearest. Had to work to mix up her pet names so it wasn't too repetitive. I feel like her speech patterns have a very specific rhythm that relies on these little names, often in the middle of sentences. Very British. Americans tend to do them at the beginning and end of clauses, I think, whereas Brits are more likely to toss it in the middle. But what the fuck do I know, honestly] you know I care for you more than my own self, but that’s raw bollocks.” [Would she say this? Probably not. Do I love it? Certainly. And I had to work in bollocks somewhere, come on!]

“Oh my god,” Chloe says. “Raw bollocks? God, I love the English.” [In which Chloe is me] She turns to Helena, her face serious. “Will you marry me? You like girls, right? Let’s get married.” [In which Chloe is everyone]

Myka makes a strangled sound. [I love this because we all know what's happening here, even people who don't bring B&W knowledge in with them because it's been set up already. I love that I don't have to explain the sound or the reason for it. We can all picture it perfectly, whether we know what her face looks like or not.]

Helena laughs, a rich, throaty sound that makes Myka squirm in her chair. [She's hot, okay???]

“I do like girls, as well as boys, darling, and while I appreciate the proposal, I must say I have my eyes on someone else at this table.” She winks at Myka, who promptly squeaks [Myka does lots of S words: squeaks, stutters, sputters, squirms. It's a very turned on letter, I guess!] and turns as [typo, god, shoot me in the face, how MANY times did I edit this chapter. over 10, so that's cool] exquisite [this is one of my favorite words] shade of red, and Kate’s mouth falls open. [You can tell I'm personally more attracted to Helena from the way I've written this, with her as the active person and Myka as someone sputtering in reception of the flirting. I think if I wrote a fic about them, I'd probably want to write from Myka's POV if it was a fic about desire, and Helena's POV if it was more of a character study of Helena. I've had this split with every pairing I've written for, I think, one that I'm more physically attracted to, and one whose head I'm more interested in exploring. For Sanvers, both are Alex, for B&W both are Helena, for Kacy I'm attacted to Lucy and write sad Kate character studies, for Rizzles both are Maura. And I like that, it keeps things fresh!]