Faith had been feeling that something was wrong for weeks - what it was, was the question. Now she and Jean relaxed in her den after a busy day, working on a huge puzzle; an abstract by Picasso. But she couldn't think coherently, and concentration in turn was impossible. Her thoughts were continually interrupted by either nonsense riddles and rhymes or brief, flashing images that she could never quite catch. Frowning, she picked up a piece of the puzzle, sorting out her jumbled mind under the pretence of looking for the piece's place.
Why was everything so confusing all of a sudden? It was agonizing enough, having an insane conversation with a random... rather creepy stranger at the cemetery three months ago... and he claimed that she wasn't really of this world, or something like that. He seemed to know Reynald, and didn't like him... she didn't blame him on that count; she didn't care for him much herself. Granted, she didn't really remember much, other than that he was a stuff-shirt with a superiority complex and a serious attitude problem.
Then there was Halden. She hadn't been able to get a hold of him at all, although she knew that he was still in England.
"Faith? You've been staring at that piece for a quarter of an hour."
"Yeah, I know. I just can't figure out where it goes."
"Liar. You always knew where everything went."
"Things change, okay?"
"Yeah, I know. But even if you haven't done it for years, your gift was that you never lost it."
"Lost what?" She absently took a sip from a glass of cider by her side.
"You know... you. I mean, your gifts, your weaknesses... your sense of self."
"Oh come on; you can't be turning Mr. Rogers on me, can you?"
"No... but what of Halden? You haven't lost him."
"What do you mean, Jean? I can't even get a hold of him, let alone find him."
"I know where he is."
"Stalker?" she teased, lapsing from her preoccupation for a moment and laughing.
"No... but I was inquisitive to find where I could write to him in case I recalled something about your personality before the fire."
"Oh, brother," she groaned.
"No, seriously. He was worried about you - I've talked to him."
"You never struck me as the type that would need a psychiatrist," Faith remarked matter-of-factly. "Actually, you always struck me as the type that would laugh at them when they try to pull their 'hocus pocus' on you."
"Usually I am," Jean confessed. "But I like this Halden. He was really worried that you'd never contacted him."
"So what are you, the go-between?" Faith was a little disbelieving.
"No... I just agree with him. You haven't been yourself." There was a long pause. "You're rubbing your scar again." Immediately Faith forced her hand down from her shoulder and tinkered with a piece. Where did it go? Where did she go? Everything had turned into one big puzzle, and even if they seemed like the right combination, the pieces always refused to fit together. She wished she knew why and shut her eyes.
Faith sighed and opened them, staring down at the table. Her reflection peered up at her from the shiny, dark wood. She looked a little tired. A little pale. A little bloody. At the last deliberation she stopped and shut her eyes. Cuts on her cheek, most of her hair sawn off... slowly she opened them again and peered more closely. It was like being reflected in water, she thought. A little pond, smooth and glassy as ice, but tinting everything brown. Her reflection stared back up at her, sad and drawn.
Jean watched Faith staring at the wood, but she only saw her as she was then - healthy but growing paler by the second. What was she seeing in there? Her mind had always worked in mysterious ways; that was certain. But to stare at her reflection so long; unblinking, confused; was not like her at all.
Faith saw her reflection blurring, morphing, and Halden was there. He looked up at her, lines of concern around the eyes and forehead - he was young, but there was a little grey at his temples now. Then he was gone, too and the man at the cemetery was there, smirking. He knew something about the last few months. He knew what was wrong, and she knew without a doubt that she would have to find him. Then he too morphed, into a grinning Cat, skeletal and tattooed, with sharp teeth with bloodstains, and she recoiled so fast that she knocked over her glass, which shattered, cider pooling at Faith's feet.
Jean looked up at her, scared. "I'm sorry," Faith whispered, finding no excuse to come to her tongue. "I'll go clean it up."
It had been two months since she'd met the man in the cemetery - it was December 9th. She missed yet another appointment with Reynald... come to that, she hadn't gone to any at all. His secretary called, wanting to set up another appointment, but Faith hung up on her, saying that she had the wrong number in French. The secretary called back, though. This time she flatly refused a return appointment. Reynald needed a few things before she would see him again. A better attitude... and an enema, she mentally jibed. Whatever. Maybe that day... maybe she would find Halden; sort of hunt him down. Absently she rubbed the scar on her shoulder. Oh, wait. Jean wanted to see her.
A few moments later, Jean herself illustrated this when she called, saying that she was on her way over. Within minutes, she was trotting through the front door, purse in hand and a wide grin on her face.
"Hey Faith!" she grinned.
"Hello, Jean," she returned, a little preoccupied. "What do you want to do today?"
"I was thinking shopping. Y'know, replace your wardrobe, as you've been pretty much living in mine... distract you, in other words." Faith nodded slowly.
"I suppose," she said calmly.
"Well then," Jean said cheerfully. "Let's go!"
"All right, all right," Faith sighed. "Let me get my coat."
"Right," Jean grinned. "I'll be waiting by the car."
"Oh yeah," Faith turned away from the coat closet. "I forgot you had a car."
"So do you not want a coat anymore?" Jean inquired.
"No, I do. I just forgot."
Jean gave her an alarmed look. "You helped me pick it out two weeks ago, remember?"
"Yeah. Sorry, I've just been a little... preoccupied lately." She wanted to tell, but found herself unable to. Jean would think that she was insane. There were really only two people that would really, truly understand, and she couldn't find either of them anywhere.
"You're telling me? You've barely shown any emotion beyond preoccupation in weeks." Jean led Faith over to the sofa and sat down. "Faith, tell me what's wrong. You haven't been yourself, and I want to help you somehow, but you won't let me."
"I can't. I know you'll support me... but at the same time, I don't know. You'll think I'm crazy."
"How can you tell that? Neither of us can know until I hear."
Faith sighed. "When we were working on the puzzle, I saw my face in the wood. But I looked... different."
"Different? How?"
"I was paler. Um, I looked very tired and I was bleeding from a cut on my cheek. My hair looked like it had been mostly cut off. I was wearing the clothes that I had on the night of the fire."
Jean nodded. "What then? Even the cut on your face wouldn't have made you..."
Faith nodded quickly. "Then I saw Halden. He looked tired, too. And sad. There was grey at his temples."
"Ooh, scary," Jean joked.
"That's not funny," Faith said flatly. "Then there was a man that I met a few months ago."
"That's all? How did he stick in your mind so well?" Jean asked incredulously.
Faith sighed. "He just told me things, that's all. Things that I guess I didn't want to know."
"Like what?"
"Can we just get on with it?" she sighed, guilty that she was being so tetchy. Jean only nodded. "Anyway, then there was a cat."
Jean looked as though she was dying to ask a question, but thought better of it.
"He was... creepy. You remember that cat from all of my stories?"
"Yeah."
"It was him, only... he was thin, almost wasted. He was tattooed and had an earring and he just wouldn't stop looking at me. Then he spoke my name and..."
Jean stared at her. "Faith," she whispered at last. "I think you're scaring me."
"I scare myself, sometimes."
The last store. Finally. Faith got exasperated with shopping easily, but she knew that a wardrobe change would be a nice thing, considering that she had about five things in her closet, three of which she had borrowed from Jean.
The boutique was one for casual, classy stuff. It catered to both men and women, but it wasn't terribly crowded. She was studying a sweater when a man approached her. At first she thought he was old, but then she looked closely and realised that he was young... and an albino.
"Excuse me, Faith."
She stopped and whirled around. "Who are you?"
He fidgeted. "There really isn't TIME for petty questions," he said.
Faith found herself backing away.
"I hadn't thought that question was petty," she said, a little confused. He seemed rather familiar.
His eye twitched. "Well, it is! And there isn't time for it!"
She looked at him uneasily. Quite distant now was the feeling of familiarity; now the main feeling that she had was discomfort. "Quite honestly, you're scaring me," she said, putting her hand at her side. He followed it with his eyes, looking smugly at her when she found nothing but the side of her jeans.
"Were you expecting to find something?" he asked. He held up his hand, palm up, and she thought she saw the faint outlines of a knife. Instinctually she reached for it. What was she doing? Her hand touched where the handle should be. This was too crazy. She tried to grasp it, her hand passing through. Wha...?
"Am I seeing things?"
"Only that you can see, Faith. Only you are meant to see these things."
"I'm going crazy."
"No, you succeeded long ago."
"What?"
"I must go now! I'm running out of time!" he said abruptly.
Faith reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. "No! What do you mean? How do you know me? What's all this nonsense about time?"
He looked at her, surprised. "Nonsense, Faith? Time is what I live by. And right now, I do not have enough of it!"
"Time is running out," she said quietly, remembering hearing someone speak it... what seemed like a long time ago. He froze and stared at her. She looked at him calmly, though in all actuality her heart felt like it was doing the flamenco.
"Yes, it is," he agreed, temporarily losing that frenetic look. "For you, and for Wonderland."
Wonderland. That name... it was the place that she told stories about as a child. But it didn't exist, did it? Was Wonderland the explanation for all the strange things that she had experienced?
"I must go now. Wonderland is calling me!" and he dashed out. Nobody noticed him. Nobody seemed to care. She blinked a few times, because it seemed that he turned into a rabbit, even as he ran.
Then Jean appeared from behind a rack of clothing, blocking him from view.
"Ready?" she asked cheerfully. Faith didn't answer for a moment.
"Yeah," she finally said. "Sorry for keeping you."
Why was everything so confusing all of a sudden? It was agonizing enough, having an insane conversation with a random... rather creepy stranger at the cemetery three months ago... and he claimed that she wasn't really of this world, or something like that. He seemed to know Reynald, and didn't like him... she didn't blame him on that count; she didn't care for him much herself. Granted, she didn't really remember much, other than that he was a stuff-shirt with a superiority complex and a serious attitude problem.
Then there was Halden. She hadn't been able to get a hold of him at all, although she knew that he was still in England.
"Faith? You've been staring at that piece for a quarter of an hour."
"Yeah, I know. I just can't figure out where it goes."
"Liar. You always knew where everything went."
"Things change, okay?"
"Yeah, I know. But even if you haven't done it for years, your gift was that you never lost it."
"Lost what?" She absently took a sip from a glass of cider by her side.
"You know... you. I mean, your gifts, your weaknesses... your sense of self."
"Oh come on; you can't be turning Mr. Rogers on me, can you?"
"No... but what of Halden? You haven't lost him."
"What do you mean, Jean? I can't even get a hold of him, let alone find him."
"I know where he is."
"Stalker?" she teased, lapsing from her preoccupation for a moment and laughing.
"No... but I was inquisitive to find where I could write to him in case I recalled something about your personality before the fire."
"Oh, brother," she groaned.
"No, seriously. He was worried about you - I've talked to him."
"You never struck me as the type that would need a psychiatrist," Faith remarked matter-of-factly. "Actually, you always struck me as the type that would laugh at them when they try to pull their 'hocus pocus' on you."
"Usually I am," Jean confessed. "But I like this Halden. He was really worried that you'd never contacted him."
"So what are you, the go-between?" Faith was a little disbelieving.
"No... I just agree with him. You haven't been yourself." There was a long pause. "You're rubbing your scar again." Immediately Faith forced her hand down from her shoulder and tinkered with a piece. Where did it go? Where did she go? Everything had turned into one big puzzle, and even if they seemed like the right combination, the pieces always refused to fit together. She wished she knew why and shut her eyes.
Faith sighed and opened them, staring down at the table. Her reflection peered up at her from the shiny, dark wood. She looked a little tired. A little pale. A little bloody. At the last deliberation she stopped and shut her eyes. Cuts on her cheek, most of her hair sawn off... slowly she opened them again and peered more closely. It was like being reflected in water, she thought. A little pond, smooth and glassy as ice, but tinting everything brown. Her reflection stared back up at her, sad and drawn.
Jean watched Faith staring at the wood, but she only saw her as she was then - healthy but growing paler by the second. What was she seeing in there? Her mind had always worked in mysterious ways; that was certain. But to stare at her reflection so long; unblinking, confused; was not like her at all.
Faith saw her reflection blurring, morphing, and Halden was there. He looked up at her, lines of concern around the eyes and forehead - he was young, but there was a little grey at his temples now. Then he was gone, too and the man at the cemetery was there, smirking. He knew something about the last few months. He knew what was wrong, and she knew without a doubt that she would have to find him. Then he too morphed, into a grinning Cat, skeletal and tattooed, with sharp teeth with bloodstains, and she recoiled so fast that she knocked over her glass, which shattered, cider pooling at Faith's feet.
Jean looked up at her, scared. "I'm sorry," Faith whispered, finding no excuse to come to her tongue. "I'll go clean it up."
It had been two months since she'd met the man in the cemetery - it was December 9th. She missed yet another appointment with Reynald... come to that, she hadn't gone to any at all. His secretary called, wanting to set up another appointment, but Faith hung up on her, saying that she had the wrong number in French. The secretary called back, though. This time she flatly refused a return appointment. Reynald needed a few things before she would see him again. A better attitude... and an enema, she mentally jibed. Whatever. Maybe that day... maybe she would find Halden; sort of hunt him down. Absently she rubbed the scar on her shoulder. Oh, wait. Jean wanted to see her.
A few moments later, Jean herself illustrated this when she called, saying that she was on her way over. Within minutes, she was trotting through the front door, purse in hand and a wide grin on her face.
"Hey Faith!" she grinned.
"Hello, Jean," she returned, a little preoccupied. "What do you want to do today?"
"I was thinking shopping. Y'know, replace your wardrobe, as you've been pretty much living in mine... distract you, in other words." Faith nodded slowly.
"I suppose," she said calmly.
"Well then," Jean said cheerfully. "Let's go!"
"All right, all right," Faith sighed. "Let me get my coat."
"Right," Jean grinned. "I'll be waiting by the car."
"Oh yeah," Faith turned away from the coat closet. "I forgot you had a car."
"So do you not want a coat anymore?" Jean inquired.
"No, I do. I just forgot."
Jean gave her an alarmed look. "You helped me pick it out two weeks ago, remember?"
"Yeah. Sorry, I've just been a little... preoccupied lately." She wanted to tell, but found herself unable to. Jean would think that she was insane. There were really only two people that would really, truly understand, and she couldn't find either of them anywhere.
"You're telling me? You've barely shown any emotion beyond preoccupation in weeks." Jean led Faith over to the sofa and sat down. "Faith, tell me what's wrong. You haven't been yourself, and I want to help you somehow, but you won't let me."
"I can't. I know you'll support me... but at the same time, I don't know. You'll think I'm crazy."
"How can you tell that? Neither of us can know until I hear."
Faith sighed. "When we were working on the puzzle, I saw my face in the wood. But I looked... different."
"Different? How?"
"I was paler. Um, I looked very tired and I was bleeding from a cut on my cheek. My hair looked like it had been mostly cut off. I was wearing the clothes that I had on the night of the fire."
Jean nodded. "What then? Even the cut on your face wouldn't have made you..."
Faith nodded quickly. "Then I saw Halden. He looked tired, too. And sad. There was grey at his temples."
"Ooh, scary," Jean joked.
"That's not funny," Faith said flatly. "Then there was a man that I met a few months ago."
"That's all? How did he stick in your mind so well?" Jean asked incredulously.
Faith sighed. "He just told me things, that's all. Things that I guess I didn't want to know."
"Like what?"
"Can we just get on with it?" she sighed, guilty that she was being so tetchy. Jean only nodded. "Anyway, then there was a cat."
Jean looked as though she was dying to ask a question, but thought better of it.
"He was... creepy. You remember that cat from all of my stories?"
"Yeah."
"It was him, only... he was thin, almost wasted. He was tattooed and had an earring and he just wouldn't stop looking at me. Then he spoke my name and..."
Jean stared at her. "Faith," she whispered at last. "I think you're scaring me."
"I scare myself, sometimes."
The last store. Finally. Faith got exasperated with shopping easily, but she knew that a wardrobe change would be a nice thing, considering that she had about five things in her closet, three of which she had borrowed from Jean.
The boutique was one for casual, classy stuff. It catered to both men and women, but it wasn't terribly crowded. She was studying a sweater when a man approached her. At first she thought he was old, but then she looked closely and realised that he was young... and an albino.
"Excuse me, Faith."
She stopped and whirled around. "Who are you?"
He fidgeted. "There really isn't TIME for petty questions," he said.
Faith found herself backing away.
"I hadn't thought that question was petty," she said, a little confused. He seemed rather familiar.
His eye twitched. "Well, it is! And there isn't time for it!"
She looked at him uneasily. Quite distant now was the feeling of familiarity; now the main feeling that she had was discomfort. "Quite honestly, you're scaring me," she said, putting her hand at her side. He followed it with his eyes, looking smugly at her when she found nothing but the side of her jeans.
"Were you expecting to find something?" he asked. He held up his hand, palm up, and she thought she saw the faint outlines of a knife. Instinctually she reached for it. What was she doing? Her hand touched where the handle should be. This was too crazy. She tried to grasp it, her hand passing through. Wha...?
"Am I seeing things?"
"Only that you can see, Faith. Only you are meant to see these things."
"I'm going crazy."
"No, you succeeded long ago."
"What?"
"I must go now! I'm running out of time!" he said abruptly.
Faith reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. "No! What do you mean? How do you know me? What's all this nonsense about time?"
He looked at her, surprised. "Nonsense, Faith? Time is what I live by. And right now, I do not have enough of it!"
"Time is running out," she said quietly, remembering hearing someone speak it... what seemed like a long time ago. He froze and stared at her. She looked at him calmly, though in all actuality her heart felt like it was doing the flamenco.
"Yes, it is," he agreed, temporarily losing that frenetic look. "For you, and for Wonderland."
Wonderland. That name... it was the place that she told stories about as a child. But it didn't exist, did it? Was Wonderland the explanation for all the strange things that she had experienced?
"I must go now. Wonderland is calling me!" and he dashed out. Nobody noticed him. Nobody seemed to care. She blinked a few times, because it seemed that he turned into a rabbit, even as he ran.
Then Jean appeared from behind a rack of clothing, blocking him from view.
"Ready?" she asked cheerfully. Faith didn't answer for a moment.
"Yeah," she finally said. "Sorry for keeping you."