A/N: The last chapter was redone, thanks to all the terrific ideas I got. Thanks!
Erin Fray felt an eerie sense of déjà vu as she went to open her apartment only to find it was unlocked. Hoping against hope that Mel wasn't on the other side, shivering, wet, col and beaten, she opened the door.
She was relieved – and slightly surprised – when she saw Mel standing patiently, leaning against the window frame, looking calmly at the sunset. For a split second, Erin could see her youth – a nineteen-year-old girl, brought up in poverty, whose parents had died when she was young. Then the moment passed, and Mel had turned toward her, anything resembling peace gone from her expression. "About time you showed up," she growled. "I've been here almost an hour."
Erin smiled, rolling her eyes. "I was working," she explained. "Arrested Tank Guestien. I can only hope those idiots in court put him away, cuz if they don't –"
"He'll hunt you down till the day you die," Mel finished.
Erin raised an eyebrow. "Friend of yours?"
She snorted. "As if! Stupid pump screwed up an important grab once. Ruebin had told him to get the same thing Gunther told me to get. And you didn't hear that from me," Mel added.
"So, what's up?" Erin asked, sitting back on the couch.
"I want you to check this guy out for me," Mel said. "Not that I have a drop of confidence in the laws, and to be truthful this guy seems okay, it's just ..."
"So was Urkonn," Erin finished.
"Exactly."
"So, what's this guy's name?"
"Calls himself Spike."
Erin raised an eyebrow. "No last name?"
"Who knows? Maybe that is his last name. I just want you to get any dirt you can on this guy, okay?"
"Okay."
The girl stumbled through the streets, confused, as she had been for a long time ... too long to count. Every life was the same, it seemed, except for the first. The first one. The one where she'd never gotten to say goodbye, or sorry, or I forgive you ... the one that had stopped, abruptly, unfairly, after her child was born.
She used to be warm. She used to be loved. She'd had a sister, and a husband. And there'd been others she could remember, others who'd loved her, who danced at the edges of her memory. There was a man who looked like an angel, an angel who had been taken over by darkness years ago ... there was another man, handsome, brotherly ... a woman, red hair ablaze, eyes sparkling with intelligence ... but they were gone. They must be. From her beautiful sister, to her loving husband, to the adorable child that was hers, which she'd never gotten to know ...
So the girl kept searching the streets for any sign of familiarity, any sign of why she could remember these things from times so long ago ... she searched for the ones she suspected would still be alive, she searched for those she knew were gone ... but it always ended the same. The streets were not safe as they once were. For some time now, every life she'd had ended in blood and death ... it didn't matter if it was the lurks or the crime lords or the other street kids, you still died, alone, without anyone.
It had been awhile since I'd set foot into Amma and Jove's tav. Whenever I thought of entering it, all I could think of was the memory of carrying a little girl's corpse. The head had been twisted to an awkward angle when I'd found her, under some wreckage in my apartment. I remember lifting her as if she weighed nothing, like I had so many times before, except this time, Loo didn't smile and grab my arm, she just continued staring at nothing, her eyes empty, her body limp. I remembered carrying her to her parents. Their faces were full of shock when they saw their only daughter in my arms, quite obviously dead. They'd rushed toward me, they laid her body out on the table and cried as I watched, as I felt the horrible numbness fade, only to be replaced by a raging anger toward those who'd done this, for those who'd caused so much pain ...
Understandably, I couldn't bear to enter the tav. It used to be my second home, but not it was a horrible memory. Now I stood, facing it, trying to sum up the will to enter. I'd seen Spike walk through the doors, swallowed by the warmth inside, and I needed to talk to him. But my legs refused to carry me the ten feet to the door. Even as I stood shivering outside, I couldn't gather the strength to step inside, and become warm.
Fortunately for me, a distraction came. Distractions were good ... they made my feet move, they got my blood pumping. So when I saw the lurks gathering at the corner of the tav, I ran. I didn't have the scythe, I didn't have any backup, all I had were my fists and feet and the terrible need to silence the pain that tore through my heart.
A/N: Okay, sort of a cliff-hanger ... so sue me. And I wanted this chapter to be longer, I really did, but it just turned out short for some reason. And please review. The more feedback I get, the better this fic becomes. And feel free to send me ideas, speculation, whatever comes to your head - I'd love to hear it.
Erin Fray felt an eerie sense of déjà vu as she went to open her apartment only to find it was unlocked. Hoping against hope that Mel wasn't on the other side, shivering, wet, col and beaten, she opened the door.
She was relieved – and slightly surprised – when she saw Mel standing patiently, leaning against the window frame, looking calmly at the sunset. For a split second, Erin could see her youth – a nineteen-year-old girl, brought up in poverty, whose parents had died when she was young. Then the moment passed, and Mel had turned toward her, anything resembling peace gone from her expression. "About time you showed up," she growled. "I've been here almost an hour."
Erin smiled, rolling her eyes. "I was working," she explained. "Arrested Tank Guestien. I can only hope those idiots in court put him away, cuz if they don't –"
"He'll hunt you down till the day you die," Mel finished.
Erin raised an eyebrow. "Friend of yours?"
She snorted. "As if! Stupid pump screwed up an important grab once. Ruebin had told him to get the same thing Gunther told me to get. And you didn't hear that from me," Mel added.
"So, what's up?" Erin asked, sitting back on the couch.
"I want you to check this guy out for me," Mel said. "Not that I have a drop of confidence in the laws, and to be truthful this guy seems okay, it's just ..."
"So was Urkonn," Erin finished.
"Exactly."
"So, what's this guy's name?"
"Calls himself Spike."
Erin raised an eyebrow. "No last name?"
"Who knows? Maybe that is his last name. I just want you to get any dirt you can on this guy, okay?"
"Okay."
The girl stumbled through the streets, confused, as she had been for a long time ... too long to count. Every life was the same, it seemed, except for the first. The first one. The one where she'd never gotten to say goodbye, or sorry, or I forgive you ... the one that had stopped, abruptly, unfairly, after her child was born.
She used to be warm. She used to be loved. She'd had a sister, and a husband. And there'd been others she could remember, others who'd loved her, who danced at the edges of her memory. There was a man who looked like an angel, an angel who had been taken over by darkness years ago ... there was another man, handsome, brotherly ... a woman, red hair ablaze, eyes sparkling with intelligence ... but they were gone. They must be. From her beautiful sister, to her loving husband, to the adorable child that was hers, which she'd never gotten to know ...
So the girl kept searching the streets for any sign of familiarity, any sign of why she could remember these things from times so long ago ... she searched for the ones she suspected would still be alive, she searched for those she knew were gone ... but it always ended the same. The streets were not safe as they once were. For some time now, every life she'd had ended in blood and death ... it didn't matter if it was the lurks or the crime lords or the other street kids, you still died, alone, without anyone.
It had been awhile since I'd set foot into Amma and Jove's tav. Whenever I thought of entering it, all I could think of was the memory of carrying a little girl's corpse. The head had been twisted to an awkward angle when I'd found her, under some wreckage in my apartment. I remember lifting her as if she weighed nothing, like I had so many times before, except this time, Loo didn't smile and grab my arm, she just continued staring at nothing, her eyes empty, her body limp. I remembered carrying her to her parents. Their faces were full of shock when they saw their only daughter in my arms, quite obviously dead. They'd rushed toward me, they laid her body out on the table and cried as I watched, as I felt the horrible numbness fade, only to be replaced by a raging anger toward those who'd done this, for those who'd caused so much pain ...
Understandably, I couldn't bear to enter the tav. It used to be my second home, but not it was a horrible memory. Now I stood, facing it, trying to sum up the will to enter. I'd seen Spike walk through the doors, swallowed by the warmth inside, and I needed to talk to him. But my legs refused to carry me the ten feet to the door. Even as I stood shivering outside, I couldn't gather the strength to step inside, and become warm.
Fortunately for me, a distraction came. Distractions were good ... they made my feet move, they got my blood pumping. So when I saw the lurks gathering at the corner of the tav, I ran. I didn't have the scythe, I didn't have any backup, all I had were my fists and feet and the terrible need to silence the pain that tore through my heart.
A/N: Okay, sort of a cliff-hanger ... so sue me. And I wanted this chapter to be longer, I really did, but it just turned out short for some reason. And please review. The more feedback I get, the better this fic becomes. And feel free to send me ideas, speculation, whatever comes to your head - I'd love to hear it.