A/N: Helllooooo I am back! Yes I am! What a tumultuous vacation! I don't know where to begin. Funerals, illness on my part, messed up flights...bleh. But I got
to see my sweetie 3 and that's what counts. I miss him so bad already and it's barely been a day. Oh well...I'm taking a weekend off to recover from illness
so I will do some writing! Here's my first update, enjoy!
-10-
services rendered
"Julian!"
He turned, quickly; he'd been about to go up without her. There she was…her hair was cut short, and curled in an old 40's style, and she
was wearing a peacoat, and dangling pearl earrings. She hurried across the floor, her heels clicking. "I'm sorry, I was posing as the wife
of a wealthy mafia member," she said, reaching up and fiddling with an earring.
He stared. "You cut your hair," he said, reaching out and running his fingers over it.
"Oh, it'll grow back," she said. "By the morning or so, it'll look like nothing ever happened. It's dying it that's annoying—then I have to have
a buzz-cut for about seven hours." She smiled at him; he leaned forward. She drew back as per usual and held out her hand.
"Grr." He dug in his pocket, then pushed a bill into her hand. The elevator opened and they stepped in. "This better be good."
She pocketed the money, smiled again, then tiptoed and ran her fingers through his hair. He felt the ring brush his ear and he shuddered;
Laura noted this, leaning forwards and running her teeth over the rim.
"I'll have a red ear if you do that," he said, jerking away. In truth, it was too much—when he knew that Laura would refuse to miss her
therapy session. He settled instead for her mouth. She let him do as he pleased, her arms now wrapped around his neck.
Laura let out a little sigh as he sucked on her lower lip, tasting the lipstick. It had a cherry flavor to it—he pulled her closer, his hand inside
her coat, discovering that she was wearing a skirt.
DING!
The door opened.
Julian sighed, too, as Laura whisked out.
…
"Lorne?"
The green mutant sighed and rubbed his index finger across the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what to say. It's the same thing, again and
again—today I was buying groceries, and the little girl beside me sang happy birthday to her mom. I saw that she would die in three days
from now…she's going to ride her tricycle in front of a car."
Silence. Except for the sounds of chewing, this time including Sylvia. She was eating avocado with her bare fingers.
"I see," Dr. Garrison said. "Has it ever occurred to you, Lorne…to warn these victims of what you've seen?"
Lorne laughed bitterly. "Like someone would believe me. Maybe if you told them...or Julian here…or even Laura—me? Hell no. I'm too green.
And, you know, the horns."
Laura reached over and patted his shoulder. "It's okay, Lorne," she said. "I think you're very pretty. Green is my favorite color."
Julian looked away.
"Thanks," Lorne said, looking sour.
"Sylvia?" Dr. Garrison turned to her. "What did you do today?"
"Daddy called—and told me—soon." She shut her mouth with a snap.
"Good," Dr. Garrison said, making a note on his clipboard. "Julian?"
"Are you a mutant?" Julian asked directly.
Everyone stared at him.
"It's a simple yes-or-no question," he pointed out. "Just say it. 'Yes', or 'no'."
Dr. Garrison ignored him. "Laura?"
"I had a rather interesting employ tonight," she said. "I pretended I was the wife of a famous mafia figure. He paid me quite a handsome sum…and I
received an excellent dinner. Then I snuck out back and dealt with the target. Very clean—a small sniper rifle—he barely felt a thing, I'm sure."
Julian tried not to listen, as he usually did when Laura talked about the horrific details of her job.
For group therapy, there was a lot of ignoring going on.
…
"I want to go somewhere with you tonight," Laura said, smiling at him lightly. "Do you have money?"
Julian frowned. "Only thirty-five bucks again. Not much gonna happen on that."
"No, no it won't," Laura frowned, then she brightened, holding up a finger. "I know! There's something you can do for me—a little thing I could
use help with. It would be quite easy for you—and I'd reward you nicely."
They were sitting on the edge of the gigantic concrete planter again, Laura looking prim and proper as she dangled her legs off the edge. Her
shiny red pumps were neatly paired below, and her stockinged feet hunt in the air, two inches above the ground. Her toenails were painted
black, Julian noted.
"You mean—I can pay back the 'favor' to you?" he asked sharply. He didn't like where this conversation was going.
Laura smiled. "No—no. I want to keep my favor. This…this would be an extra little something for me…in return for which I would do an extra
little something for you, Mister Keller."
"Oh really."
"Mhmm." Laura smiled. "Maybe I'll give you your own little night with my celebrated Geisha abilities. I have done it twelve times, and never
had a bad comment yet. It would be well worth your time."
"Laura—" he put his hand on hers. "I don't need you to do anything. I like you the way you are." He reached out suddenly and pulled down
the collar of her coat, which she'd kept on all night—just as he'd suspected, she was one giant bruise from the neck down.
"Who did this to you?" he asked.
Laura looked away.
"You want my help with them, don't you?" He felt—well, he didn't know what he felt. Angry, that someone was hurting something
pretty—indifferent, because this something pretty killed people. He finally picked the first.
"Laura."
"Yes." She looked at him again, her expression showing a hint of annoyance. Not towards him—he felt—but towards the person he was talking
about. "The less you know about it, the better. Be it sufficient to say that I cannot destroy this person. They have invulnerable skin that my
claws do not penetrate." She paused. "Julian, you understand what I am asking you to do?"
Julian folded his arms. "You're asking me to kill them for you," he said.
"Yes." Laura paused. "They are bad—the very worst of the bad. Child beaters—I saw them break the neck of a five year old child, over and
over. Because they could. They deserve to die."
Julian breathed out. "I don't know, Laura! I don't think I could do it!"
"What if I said…this person had involvement with the Purifiers?" Laura watched him carefully, her green eyes shining.
"…" Julian looked down. "I would fucking kill them, yes."
"Good," Laura said. "What do you want from me, in return?"
"Laura—I don't want anything from you. All I want is to hang around you more—not even, you know, doing that…I guess…I…I want you to
be my girlfriend." He rubbed his neck. "I know how weird this is...I mean, we were just talking about—about killing someone, my god…"
Laura smiled solemnly. "Julian—I'm flattered—but I can't. I'm not good enough for you. I'm too dangerous, too."
"I bet you're not willing to commit yourself to one guy, either," he said.
"No," Laura admitted.
He shrugged. "Just going to have to convince you, then." He paused. "Fine. You come out to dinner with me and my friend, Cessily. Red
Lobster. And—and you don't charge me anymore. Okay?"
Laura wrinkled her nose. "That's against my nature. I can handle the dinner—but—no, I can't not charge you for services rendered."
"It didn't seem one sided," Julian pointed out. "I don't have a lot of experience…but I took your claws popping out as a good sign."
Laura smiled slightly, as if she was amused.
"I could have been faking it," she reminded him.
"Were you?" He considered her.
Laura considered him. "No," she said, her eyebrows raised. Her smile grew.
"Why are you charging me then? If you enjoy it too?"
"I…" Laura pursed her lips. "When you have done something your whole life a certain way, it is very difficult to change the behavior
to suit someone else. It would also be unfair to my other clients."
"I wouldn't tell them," he pointed out, his skin crawling. He hated admitting there were other men that touched her.
"No."
"I can't believe we're even having this conversation," Julian said, folding his arms again and looking away, miffed.
"Neither can I." Laura examined her nails coolly.
He thought for a second. "Okay. How about this—you come for dinner—and I get to kiss you, whenever I feel like it, for free. That work for you?"
"…" Laura considered. "All right," she said stiffly, running her tongue over her teeth. The stud inside made clicking noises.
"Not now," she said, in an irritated tone (he had leaned forwards). "You need to hold up your end of the bargain first."
"Okay." He rolled up his sleeves. "Show me where to apply the pain, then."
She gave him a wide smile.
…
"Oh, my god, Laura," Julian said, his eyes wide. They were on a rooftop, and he'd just set down a pair of binoculars Laura had handed
him. "You didn't say it was a woman. No, no, I can't do this." He swallowed.
"Yes, you can. It's simple. Not even hands on." Laura put her hand on his shoulder, crouched beside him. "You just happen to have a
thought. You're thinking about air molecules. They just happen to lodge themselves in the space she's occupying, in her left aorta. Or
the area that her skull is occupying, in the lobes of her brain. So simple—untraceable—they will think its an aneurism. It is an aneurism.
Explains why she was insane, all these years. You'll be putting her out of her misery."
Julian looked through the binoculars again. The woman was sipping wine, on a patio, across from a blond haired man. She had tanned,
almost dark skin and long black hair, and a dazzling smile, to go with her evening dress. Why were all the people involved in Laura's
world so beautiful?
"Laura—no. I can't." He made to stand up—Laura pulled him down.
"Yes you can," she said. "Julian—that woman was my handler. The child I told you about was me. Over and over again she broke
my neck—she broke me—she was God to me, a terrible and loveless God. Her and that man there worked with your Purifiers. They
were delighted to help with the extermination of the remaining mutant children."
Julian frowned at her.
"Do it for me! Do it for your friends!" she said, grasping his arm. "Please. It's in your hands here. I can't touch her—I'll do whatever you want."
"No." Julian turned away. "I don't even know if all the shit you told me about her is true. For all I know, you're working me over for
my help—for a job you're getting paid hundreds of thousands for. No Laura, I won't do it."
"—!—" Laura stared at him. "Are you saying you don't trust me?"
"Maybe."
Silence.
"I'm offended," Laura said. "Have I ever given you reason to mistrust me before?"
"…" Julian shook his head.
"I will prove it to you, if that's what it takes." Laura ran to the edge of the roof before he could stop her, and leapt off. A few
minutes later she was crawling up the wall of the other building, towards the patio.
Julian watched as she crouched on the railing of the woman's balcony and retracted her claws. The woman's head jerked around
at the sound—she pounced on the girl, grabbing her around the head and twisting it savagely. Laura fell to the floor, a pile of
peacoat and curls that drifted vaguely in the breeze; the man was yelling something. He brought the wine bottle down on
Laura's head violently, even though the girl wasn't moving. Tinkle. An explosion of glass and red wine. Laura curled up into
a ball, offering no defense. To prove to him that these people were the monsters she claimed they were.
The woman twisted Laura's hand, forced it into a fist, and pressed on the inside. She moved so her back was towards Julian, but
he saw Laura's legs jerk spasmodically. Then he watched the woman reach to the chair behind her, pull out a small hand grenade,
and rip Laura's head back by her hair, forcing her mouth open.
He'd had enough. He stood up and pointed at the woman, realizing that he was now the God, to her.
He thought about air.