Eve was dead. After centuries together, she fell victim to tainted blood in Tangier. Adam sat by her side for days before it finally overtook her.
"Go back to Detroit, my love," she told him. "Take your music and instruments, and find a new home."
"No place is home without you."
"But it must be. You can't wander around lost the rest of your years. Promise me," she said. "Promise me you'll keep going."
Adam squeezed her hand and nodded, and Eve was gone.
He didn't go back to Detroit right away. He stayed amongst Eve's books and things, remembering their long lives together. It wasn't until he nearly starved for the second time before finding untainted blood that he went back to Detroit. He had a supplier there. He would start up that relationship again.
He found an abandoned house on the other side of town before he went home. Memories of Eve's last visit were all around him as he packed up his instruments and music recordings. It would take several trips to move all of his equipment. He worked each night over the next few days until everything he wanted was moved.
Of course, moving wouldn't be necessary if Ava hadn't fucked up and killed Ian. They wouldn't have gone back to Tangier, and Eve would still be alive.
He cautiously picked up the broken records on the floor. Remnants of Ian's last night on earth. Under one of the broken discs was his .38 revolver. He opened the cylinder and found his wooden bullet inside. After spinning it closed, he held the barrel up to his chest with his finger on the trigger. His finger squeezed a little before it relaxed.
"We've been here before, haven't we, Eve?" Adam muttered into the silence.
And he was there again. His new house offered no escape from the memories, and each night found the barrel of the gun against his chest. Each night, he remembered his promise to keep going.
For ten years, Adam struggled to remember that promise. Eventually, the gun made an appearance only every other night. Then once a week. Although, that didn't mean he wasn't thinking about it.
Ten years, two months, three weeks, and six days. Adam counted. He ticked off each day in his mind. He decided to get some air that night. It would be his first outing, other than his supply runs, in ten years. In the early morning hours, before the sunrise, he walked the back streets of the city, weaving his way between abandoned houses and factories. The sky drew his attention. He imagined the star that Eve told him about - a diamond that emits the music of a gigantic gong.
It was another sound that drew his gaze back to the street. A woman's voice, singing. He thought for a moment that she was foolish. Walking through the streets of Detroit at night, singing, could draw unwanted attention. But those thoughts shifted to the sound of her voice. The pure, resonating tone of it. It was beautiful.
She was several yards ahead of him, walking in the same direction. From the back, she had a confident walk, shoulder-length brown hair, and a slender frame. But it was her voice. For the first time in years he was inspired to compose something, for that voice.
A broken twig crunched beneath his foot, and she turned. Adam quickly ducked into the shadows of an alley. He waited several minutes before following her again, but she was no longer singing. Maybe she wasn't as foolish as he thought. He was careful to be quiet as he followed her to her apartment building. He watched her go inside and saw a light come on a few minutes later in a second story window. He stared for a while at the light shining through the curtains, then walked home. He didn't even glance at his revolver that night.
That next night he picked up a guitar for the first time in months. He strummed a few chords of a familiar song, then stopped. Another song, another few chords. No, that wasn't it. Once more, another song, a few more chords than before. This was it. The song that she was singing. He found the key she had been singing in, and played the entire song. Then he changed it up. A minor key, just below hers. Slower, but not drawn out. He pictured her voice singing to the new melody.
At two o'clock he decided to go for another walk. He took the same path, and waited behind a small, bare tree in the same spot where he'd noticed her the night before. He leaned against the tree, one leg bent with his foot on the trunk behind him, facing the direction she would be walking if she were going the same way. He would be behind her when she passed. Dressed in black pants, a jacket, and gloves, along with his sunglasses, she wouldn't notice him in the dark.
He waited for several more minutes before she passed. He heard her half-mumbling out a song as she walked. Once she was a few yards ahead, he followed her until he was once again staring up at her window. He leaned against a light post across the street with his hands in his pockets. When her light went off, Adam walked home.
The guitar was in his hand as soon as he was through the door. He sat on the sofa and casually strummed his altered version of the song from the night before. When he was done he searched through drawer after drawer until he found blank sheet music. He sat down with a pencil and a guitar, and got to work.
Guitar, drums, a little violin. He worked on the song each waking minute for the next few days. When it was all recorded, he sat slouched on the sofa and listened to it.
"Not bad," he mumbled to himself.
He decided to see her again that night. So, he followed her home. After a few more nights of watching her from a distance, he decided it wasn't enough. He left his house as early as he could after sunset and walked to the spot where he usually waited for her. He wasn't there long before she was heading his way, in the opposite direction. He followed her to a bar just a few streets over.
A thought in his mind kept telling him to go inside, but he went home. It would be too crowded that early. He needed the place to be almost empty so he could have as much of her attention as possible.
Laura was wiping down the counter when a tall man all in black and sunglasses walked in. He sat in a nearby booth, but he pulled out some papers, looking like he didn't want to be disturbed. She watched him for a while to see if he would ever wave her over to order a drink, but he didn't. After an hour, she focused more on the few other customers in the bar.
When she announced the last call, she watched the man gather his things. He quietly walked to the bar and put a bill in the tip jar.
"Thank you, sir. Come again," she said.
He nodded as he turned and left. Laura thought his tip was considerate since he had used a table, even though he hadn't ordered anything while he was there.
After everyone was gone, she grabbed the tip jar. She noticed that the man's money was still on top, folded very neatly. She pulled it out, a little curious how much it might be.
"Probably a dollar," she thought.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise when she unfolded the twenty dollar bill.
"Woah."
She finished closing and headed home. The tall man stayed on her mind.
He came in again the next night, around midnight. She smiled at him, but didn't approach as he sat at the same table and pulled out his papers. She was pretty busy that night. She hummed as she worked, lost in what she was doing. The crowd died down a little after one o'clock. She was putting a few bottles back on the shelf. When she turned around, the tall man in black was sitting at the bar. She jumped and put a hand to her chest.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Did I startle you?"
English accent. Nice.
"A little," she said, "but it's okay."
He was still wearing sunglasses. She tried to see past them without staring, but the bar lighting was dim. That fact just made it more odd that he was wearing sunglasses at all.
"Can I get you something," she asked.
"No, thank you. I actually came up to talk to you."
"To me?"
"Yes. I heard you singing while you were walking around. You have a lovely voice."
Laura blushed and lowered her eyes. She began wiping the counter with the rag in her hand.
"I mean it," the man said. "It's quite beautiful."
"Thank you," she said. "I wish record execs had your ears."
"What do you mean?"
"I spent a few years in L.A., and a few in Nashville. Knocked on every door there was, but I was always told I wasn't good enough. I don't have the right sound."
"Zombies... What do they know?"
Laura smiled. "Zombies. I like that."
"They're all the same. They don't care about real talent."
"You sound like you know the business."
"I'm a musician," he said. "Have you ever recorded anything? I could help you with that."
Laura's smile faded. "You can help me? As in, you get my music out there and I have to do something for you in return?"
"I want nothing in return." The man's shoulders drooped. "Oh, I think I see the problem."
He pulled off his sunglasses and Laura stared into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
"Let's try this again," he said. He reached his hand out for her to take. "I'm Adam," he said.
She hesitated, but took his hand in a firm shake. "Laura."
"Laura," he whispered and leaned forward on the bar. "I honestly have no hidden agenda. I love your voice. I write and record music, and I would love to record your singing. You are under no obligation to do anything else."
"Do you know anyone in the business to pass my work along to?"
"No, actually. I really don't have those connections. Music, for me, is sort of a hobby. An intense hobby."
She laughed. "An intense hobby. I'll have to remember that one."
Adam smiled. "Even your laugh is like music."
She blushed again. "I think I'll have to pass."
He sat up straight, and actually seemed disappointed.
"I'm sorry," Laura said. "I'm very flattered, but I don't know you. You come in here all dressed in black, wearing shades at night, and tell me you want to record my voice-"
"I promise I have the most noble intentions... but I can see where you would be cautious. Can't blame you for that."
"Thank you."
"So, we'll just have to get to know each other."
Laura smiled. "We'll be closing soon."
Adam sighed and stood, and Laura realized just how tall he was. He looked to be about six feet, but his slender build made him appear even taller, and he practically unfolded himself as he got to his feet. He fished a bill out of his pocket and put it in the tip jar.
"I'll be back tomorrow," he said.
When Laura emptied the tip jar that night, she found another neatly folded twenty.
Adam thought about Laura as he started to walk home. He imagined her voice singing along with his new music, and he stopped walking. His eyes went to the stars.
"I should follow her home," he thought.
He turned back and waited in the shadows for her to pass. He had to be extra careful now that she knew what he looked like. She couldn't think he was stalking her. He just wanted to make sure she got home okay.
He waited for the light in her window, then he walked home.