Author's Note: The name Maria came, of course, from 'Ave Maria'...it may be a bit cheesy as far as name choices go but I do feel that scene at the Opera is a very pivotal point in the series...the entire episode is. If you have the time, do let me know your views in the comments. I don't write much fiction so curious to know.
It was like she had died overnight.
She stared out at the empty bar. Everything was set. She had cleaned every table, scrubbed the bar top till it shone, swept the floors, cleaned the windows. Everything was set. People would start trickling in soon.
She dreaded these moments of lull when she had nothing to do, nothing to distract her from her own thoughts. She did not want to think. Rather, she could not afford to think if she did not want to end up curled in the fetal position somewhere in a corner of the bar.
Picking up a cloth, she began the task of wiping the glasses for the second time. It was not required-she had scrubbed at each one till they practically shone already, but it was required by her.
"All ok there?" It was Felicia, the bartender, appearing from within the kitchen. She must have arrived through the back door, changed, and made her way in.
Snapping out of her reverie, she turned to the other woman. Felicia nodded to the glass in her hand. "I think that's about as clean as it's ever going to be, Maria."
The woman who was now called Maria stared down at the glass. It was scratched and old but she had scrubbed it to a dull shine already. She set it down with a sigh and smiled at Felicia. "Sorry. I got lost in my thoughts."
"You sure do that a lot." Felicia shook her head, busying herself in unlocking the little cabinet of bar supplies. "I wonder how someone so young has so much to think about. It's not good for you, Maria. Don't think so much. Women like us, we really can't afford to. We think too hard, we're gonna go crazy."
Maria…yes. That was who she was now, at-least for these people. Being called by her real name hurt too much, reminded her of too many things she did not want to think about, so she had blurted the first one which came to her mind when they had asked her. Four months ago, when she had shown up here looking for work. "Ave Maria…"
Jet had laughed hearing her being called that, the one time he had come down to visit. "Maria?…sounds religious…like a nun." He had mused. She had just shrugged. For all the action she ever got, she might as well be a nun.
He had never visited her of course, the guy whose name she no longer used, not even in her own thoughts. Flashes in her mind…a retreating back, gunshots, a lonely hallway…she shook her head to clear it. No. Never again. Not like she wanted him to visit, not like she wanted to see him ever again. He was alive and that was enough. She had salvaged him, saved his life from the broken building just like she had saved it so long ago at a church…and…somewhere else in the middle of a dog fight…and that other time…and that one place…all of that was enough. She owed him nothing, not that she ever had. And he owed her nothing…not that he ever had.
She did not even know how she would react if she ever saw him again. A part of her felt like she may manage to stay aloof and indifferent. After all, it was a practised act for her, especially when it came to him, acting like she did not give a damn while an ocean of unspoken emotions roiled just under the surface. But then, part of her felt like she may just fall apart or run away. Even the very thought made her want to disappear from the planet itself, get swallowed by the ground beneath her feet till there was nothing left of her to act pitiable in the face of his indifference.
It was an uneventful evening. She served the tables like every day, quelling all thoughts of a life where she had been served on hand and foot, an existence where the prospect of her ending up as a waitress in some broken-down bar on Mars would have been unimaginable. She was all set for a brilliant career as whatever she chose to be back then. She had been good at so many things, a quick learner. That part had definitely saved her life in this new life as well, helping her pick up skills of survival required in an unforgiving world.
The grief was fresh, newly uncorked. She was feeling it for the first time and she did not know what to do with it. Mostly she just kept it packaged away in some part of her, suppressed by the fervent effort to keep all thought at bay. It became harder at nights though, when she was all alone. She would touch it tentatively, try to take out some small part of it, some beginning to dealing with it, but that would always break loose a deluge which would overwhelm her and send her into a mindless fit of crying for hours, unaware of anything around her. It would usually end when fitful sleep took over and she lapsed into nightmares of the same deluge.
The crying gave no relief though because the sense of loss remained looming over her untouched when she woke. How was one person supposed to deal with loss of this scale? Losing everyone you ever knew, ever loved? Losing your own identity and self?
She had changed. Her personality was a mix now, the woman she had become and the girl she had been. It was virtually impossible for her to continue being the woman she had become though, after remembering the girl she had once been. The thought of how far she had fallen from grace was impossible to wrap her mind around.
She had changed the way she dressed, pretty much the only thing she could change now. Over time, as her recall of her older self had stabilised, she found herself being horrified by what she used to wear over these last four years. One day, something in her had snapped and she had bundled those clothes away and thrown them into a dumpster somewhere. She had taken up wearing dresses, long ones with sleeves and high cut necks which hid her body as if to compensate for all the exposure she had put it through these last few years. Dresses of the kind her parents would have approved of for her...or that's what she told herself. She could not stand the idea of men looking at her the way they had when she wore those scraps. It made her feel…unclean.
She had left the day he had woken up, not even bothering to meet him. He had been unconscious for a week. The injuries were bad but nowhere as bad as what he had already sustained in the past and survived. She had her bags packed, her intention to leave having been affirmed even as she had tended to his wounds once they were safely back on the ship. The memory of being left alone, abandoned was too strong for her to manage being around him any longer. She was in too much pain already to have this added on top of it. But she had stuck around to make sure he woke up, spending that time to figure out where she could go.
Jet had not tried to stop her, a silent understanding building between them. The older man seemed to have picked up on what was going on with her the moment he had seen her appear to him that night, her face streaked with tears, still sobbing, asking him for the controls to the Hammerhead. He had just informed her quietly that he had already configured a course for Tharsis and then sat her down, made her breathe, and given her a drink of water to compose her. He had not known where Spike had gone but she had. The time with Vicious had informed her of the man's past enough to figure out where he would be going.
She knew that night, just like she had known for a while already, that her feelings hit a dead end with him which held no place for her but it had not stopped her from putting her life on the line one last time. She knew no other way to go about things. If he was in danger, she could not just stand by and do nothing. If you asked her to explain this, she had no rational explanation for it. It just wasn't possible for her. A world without him was not one she wished to live in, even if it was one in which she did not mean much to him.
That was also around the time this transition had set in her. It was like her entire new persona horrified her. Lately there were two identities within her mind, the pre-cryo and the post. Pre had been a faint whisper initially but had begun to gain strength over the passing weeks till she was no longer sure which was really her. When she dipped back into her old memories, all she saw was a young college girl, sheltered, privileged, in every way the "good girl." When she dipped into her recent memories she felt like crawling out of her own skin at the contrast. Her past self recoiled from them, wanted to detach itself from them.
It had slowly resulted in a transition of sorts. Without realising it, she had begun to give things up. The clothes were the first to go, then the cigarettes, then the gambling, and the bounty-hunting. Her gun was still with her but lay somewhere in her closet, untouched now for over three months. She wanted to make a respectable living now…well, as respectable as possible. Her higher education was still incomplete and whatever she had received was gone with the lost records. She knew, she had checked. The education system now was a bit different from how it had been before but she wanted to go back to it someday, to become someone similar to where she had been headed before her entire life was ruined.
But for now, waitressing paid the bills. This wasn't exactly respectable either she supposed, living for tips, but it was steady money and she could do a lot with it. It was not enough for her to have extra to settle her debt but she had figured a recourse around it instead.
When she thought back on how she had lived these last four years, a part of her marvelled that she had survived at-all. Her knowledge of this world had been so limited and she had nothing to build on either. Now, with her memories back to simultaneously both prop her up and tear her down, she had recalled the possibility of contesting the debt piled on to her…the medical debt, at-least. She had consulted a few legal experts on it and they had all agreed she had a strong case. So, she was saving up for a lawyer instead, putting a tiny amount aside each month.
As the evening drew to a close, she did her clean-up duties, collected her belongings and walked the short distance to the room Felicia had let her rent. Felicia's apartment was on the ground floor with two bedrooms, a small living space and a kitchen. Both the bedrooms had their own entrances, something she was thankful for. She had always been a loner but these days she had become actively anti-social, not wishing to meet anyone she did not absolutely have to. She had never been a very patient woman to begin with but these days the smallest of things irritated her and she kept mostly to herself.
She unlocked the door and walked into the small room. It was sparse with just a bed, a wardrobe, and a small table. There was a bathroom which opened in from the opposite wall. As she set her belongings aside on the table, she caught her own reflection in the full-length mirror built into the wardrobe. Straightening, she stared at herself.
Her hair was the same purple but the familiar hairband was gone. It was longer than she had kept it earlier. She wore a long black dress that reached her ankles with a high neck and long sleeves. She wore a lot of black these days for some reason. There was no lipstick, no makeup. She looked like a stranger, nothing like the woman she had been these last four years, nothing like the girl she had been over fifty years ago. Her face was worn, her eyes tired. She closed her eyes…loss. She was swimming in a sea of it. Loss of her family, loss of her original life and future, loss of the new life she had found, loss of her identity, both old and new. It was so huge that her mind just felt numb most of the time, detached from everything around her. She had been adrift all along but not like this. She had kept going no matter what hit her but this was too much.
Not feeling hungry enough to bother with dinner, she changed her clothes and lay down on the bed. Sleep was far from her but she did not have the energy to do anything else. Jet had never asked her to go but he had let her leave, perhaps realising how much she needed it. He had given her some money to get her started and had stayed in touch, checking up on her now and then. When he had come to visit her, he had paused at the first sight of her. She had been dressed similarly that day too and initially he had not recognised her at-all. When he did, his eyes went from shock to such deep sadness that she felt almost self-conscious. But he had not commented on the clothing.
They had not spoken much, just about her new home and some work he had taken up recently offering private security. She could tell he just wanted to see her and make sure she was ok. He was like that. She had always acted thankless but deep down she had always been grateful for his dependability. He was the first person in this new life who had shown her true care, who had gone out of the way to help her and take care of her. That's just who he was and with the new set of memories in her life which corresponded better to an understanding of family, love and care, she could appreciate him even more.
As he was leaving, he had stopped outside the bar and hesitated, almost as if unsure if he should say what he was about to say. "You are…ok…right?" He had asked finally.
"Of course." She was surprised. "Why?"
"I…it's just…You're you and I know it but I don't know this version of you. I didn't want to bring it up but I need to check. You look so different and you're acting so different. I've never seen you so…polite." He seemed to change what he was going to say at the last minute. "It's almost like you got a personality transplant."
So it was that obvious huh? She was aware he would notice the changes in her but the acknowledgement hit her hard for some reason. She had tried to bring some of the sass back into her reply to put his mind at ease. "Is that so? Maybe I'm just hoping you'll give me more money."
He raised an eyebrow in amusement, then laughed before lapsing into a serious expression. "Look Faye. I don't know what happened that night…between the two of you…but you're both changed." He hesitated again, likely because she had gone deathly still at the mention of…him. "I'm sorry to bring this up but…I feel you should meet him once. He's not…he's not himself either."
She forced a smile on to her face. "He lost someone, Jet. Someone he loved a lot. I met her…she would be a hard one to lose. If he's changed, it's got nothing to do with me. I don't think my presence will make much of a difference."
Jet considered that for a moment. "Maybe." He sighed. "I sort of wish we could all just rewind you know? The kid's been in touch but she's still out there, doing God knows what. You have turned into a pretty good rendition of a nun and he…well, he's…I don't even know how to explain it. The idiot is beyond my understanding. But I feel meeting you might be good for him. He misses all of you too, I can tell…"
He trailed off, staring at her. "Faye?" She jerked, realising what he was looking at. There were tears spilling from her eyes and running down her face and she hadn't even realised it. She wiped at them absently, confused. She did not even feel anything at the moment, no sadness, nothing which would justify the tears. Where had they come from? Why?
Jet was still looking at her with concern. "Come home." He said quietly. "You're not ok."
"I can't, Jet." She looked away from him, unable to stand the worry in his eyes. "I just need some time to figure some things out…I'll be ok."
"You're not ok. I can tell." He said again.
She shrugged. "Perils of the life I've lived. I…I can't come back, Jet. Please don't ask me to."
He considered her a moment then gave a small nod. "I know you well enough to know I'm not gonna win this and I don't want to push you to do anything either. But if you ever need to come back, you should know you're always welcome. If you need anything in the meantime…just let me know." He had watched her a few moments longer and then left.
Author's Note: It starts off slow but picks up from Chapter 4...The perspective taken here is that everything that happens at the end might be too much for Faye to take, super resilient though she is, and she begins to dissociate from herself. When we see the flashbacks from her past, she belongs to this extremely wealthy family and seems to be a happy, sort of shy girl so she starts to associate more to that persona. I read that the recall in amnesia patients may become stronger or more cemented over time so that's what this based on.
