A/N: I do not own any of these characters; they belong to their respected authors. I am merely a dreamer with too much time on their hands and a wide vocabulary that was able to piece this all together. Note: Tate is more than a school shooter in this piece of fiction - he's also a serial killer. Hence why we've been thrust into an AU here. Enjoy.
Chapter 4 – Neighbors
Lisbeth stopped at the corner mart not far from the house. She picked up a few scarce groceries – ramen noodles, a two-liter of Coke, a half gallon of milk, and a loaf of bread – along with a fresh pack of cigarettes. Lighting a smoke, Lisbeth began her journey back to the house, her boots stomping on the pavement, her arms carrying her bag of items and her backpack holding onto Tate Langdon's old book of birds.
As she started getting closer to the house, she noticed a black double decker bus pull up to the front, a large man wearing glasses holding a microphone pointing to the house, using wild hand gestures as he told a tale that Lisbeth couldn't make out. The passengers gasped and shrunk in their seats as the tour guide finished his story, and the double decker left its spot at the front of the house and set forth. The tourist snapped pictures of Lisbeth as she walked by, and she flashed them her middle finger to add to their photo albums.
Fumbling with the key to the door, Lisbeth barged her way inside and proceeded to put away her groceries. The house was silent, all of the lights turned off so the natural sunlight could illuminate the house. Lisbeth enjoyed the way the house looked with the lights off; the stained glass windows added colorful rays to the bleak interior. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she poured herself a glass of warm soda and brought herself upstairs to grab her PowerBook.
Violet rolled the small red ball into the shadows, waiting for it to come rolling back out. It did, and Violet smiled. "Come out, Beau," she cooed. "Don't be shy." But the boy in the shadows refused to reveal himself, and Violet heaved a sigh of defeat as she rolled the ball back to him. Vivien sat in the corner, Jonah cradled in her arms, smiling down at his small face. Ben sat in the armchair, his hands neatly folded as his arms rested against his knees, his eyes closed as he listened carefully to the sounds of the house.
"So what are we going to do?" Violet asked, as the ball bounced its way over to her lap. Ben opened his eyes, looking at his daughter to his wife and son. He shook his head. "I don't really know what we can do," he admitted. "This is…unusual." Violet sighed, picking herself up off the attic floor and dusting off the back of her skirt.
"Can't you just scare her off like you did the last family?" she questioned, remembering how awkward it was to see her father in that black latex suit. He turned his attention to Vivien, whose finger was stuck inside Jonah's mouth. She shook her head.
"I've felt her aura," Vivien said. "She's a strong one. She won't easily be frightened." Violet rolled her eyes and stared at the latch leading downstairs to the house. "Well I'm not staying up here forever," she said. "And out of all of us here we're the ones she wouldn't have to worry about. We should at least introduce ourselves." The couple looked at each other, the sound of the stranger bustling about downstairs mixing with Beau's soft breathing and Jonah's whimpers. Ben shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't see why not," he said, getting up from the armchair. He extended his hand towards Vivien who grabbed it and hoisted herself up. "I feel bad," said Vivien, as the Harmon family appeared – as if dragged in by the wind – to the front door, the sun blazing down on their lifeless forms. "We didn't bring any food." Violet rolled her eyes and rapped her knuckles on the door.
Lisbeth jumped when she heard the knock coming from the front of the house. The bowl in the microwave containing the brick of noodles and fill of water rotated within, the gentle hum of the machine echoing throughout the kitchen, her stomach growling as she anticipated her beggar's meal. Her eyebrows knit, Lisbeth stomped over to the front door and stuck her eye into the peephole.
"Who is it?" she called, seeing the three figures on the other side of the lens. "Oh, hi!" Vivien exclaimed, flashing a cheery smile she hoped Lisbeth would see. "We're the Harmons! We live –"
"I don't want whatever you're selling," Lisbeth said. "Please leave." Violet stifled a laugh, both at Lisbeth's comment and her thick accent. "Someone's not a social butterfly," she snickered, crossing her arms over her chest. Vivien's mouth turned down in a frown, and Ben stepped forward closer to the door.
"Um, we're your neighbors and we just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood," he explained, hoping that she was still on the other side. "We'd love to meet you if you have time to chat." Lisbeth scowled, her back pressed against the doorframe. The claimed to be neighbors – perhaps they had lived here long enough to giver her information on Langdon. Lisbeth cracked open the door, her eye popping out of the thin sliver she had created.
The man looked to be in his early to mid-forties, with a thick scruff of a beard with equally dark hair with a strong build. The woman, presumably his wife, was a curvaceous woman with a heart shaped face, strawberry blond waves cascading over her shoulders, holding an infant in her arms. A girl stood next to her, the same heart shaped face as the woman but with a thinner frame and dirty blond locks that felt to her breasts. She looked annoyed and eyed Lisbeth through narrow eyes. Lisbeth opened the door fully.
"Come in," she said, and gestured for the small family to enter the house. Vivien beamed at the young woman, her eyes scanning over the many piercings embedded within her face. She hadn't seen her up close, and with this being the first time she wasn't surprised; the aura around her was fierce, like a dragon's, and it was no wonder that she looked the part.
Ben was taken aback by her, not because of the studs sticking out of her skin or the short cropped black hair that hung on all ends on her head, but by her striking features. Her high cheekbones, her sickeningly thin frame, and her bright eyes that seemed to bore holes into his energy wave. She was, without a doubt, beautiful in her own exotic way.
Violet, however, found the new guest's appearance to be highly overrated. Who dresses like that anymore? She judged, as she looked over Lisbeth's worn Nine Inch Nails band tee-shirt, her dark black jeans with the knees blown out, and duct taped Doc Marten boots. She looked like a bad eighties punk rocker in Violet's opinion, and she already detested the stranger without even speaking a word to her.
"You've really done something with the place," Vivien commented, looking around the house. In truth, Lisbeth had done absolutely nothing but add her belongings and scare groceries. She gave Vivien an irritated look, like her small talk wasn't welcome. Vivien swallowed, clutching Jonah to her chest. Lisbeth led the family into the kitchen, the microwave screen flashing 'END' over and over as her meal sat cooling inside.
"Pardon me," Lisbeth said, going over to the microwave and pulling the bowl out. "I wasn't expecting guests. If I knew I was going to be entertaining I would have picked up tea or coffee while I was out." Her tone was sarcastic, and Vivien noted it as she shoved her bowl of ramen to the side so as not to be rude and eat while she had nothing to offer them. Vivien let out a small chuckle.
"I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced," she apologized, taking a seat at the circular booth underneath the kitchen's bay window. "We saw you walking back and thought that since you were home now might be as good as a time to introduce ourselves." Lisbeth studied the woman, noting the pitch of her voice and the way her head cocked when she looked at Lisbeth, like she was studying her.
"I'm Ben," Ben introduced, holding his hand out to Lisbeth. She looked at his bulky hand, refusing to reach out for it. He let it fall awkwardly to his side. "This is my wife, Vivien, my daughter Violet," he gestured towards the teen blond, sucking on her bottom lip "and our son, Jonah." Lisbeth eyed the infant, the sleeping bundle of life that knew nothing of the world outside. Lisbeth stared at Ben.
"Lisbeth Salander," she introduced. Vivien smiled at her. "That's such a unique name," she complimented. "Are you from around here?" Lisbeth gave Vivien that look again, this time with a hint of "are you serious?" thrown in. "I'm from Sweden," she said. "Stockholm. I'm here on…" she stopped mid-sentence "…business." The Harmons looked at the Swede curiously as her eyes darted out the window, looking out at the California sky. Vivien cleared her throat.
"Oh, that's wonderful," she said. "I've always wanted to visit Sweden." There were a lot of places the woman wanted to visit, but that was now out of the question. She was permanently stuck in the house for the rest of eternity. She bounced her son in her arms gently, looking over at her husband. "Do you know how long you'll be staying?" she questioned, turning her attention back to Lisbeth. She shrugged her thin shoulders.
"It depends," she said. "It could be a week, a month, a year." Her piercing green eyes fell onto the young Harmon daughter, who continued to stare down Lisbeth with narrow eyes. Violet could sense that this new intruder was hiding something, and that whatever business she was up to wasn't a good. Lisbeth pushed herself up onto the counter, her feet dangling from the floor as she examined the Harmon family from her perch.
"Why here?" Violet piped up. "Why are you staying in this house of all places? If you haven't heard, it's haunted." Ben's face went sheet white as he watched his daughter and the Swede lock eyes, staring at each other intently. Lisbeth credited the girl for her bold behavior, but she didn't have time to mess with snotty teenagers when there was a much bigger matter at hand.
"I don't believe in ghosts," Lisbeth said, and Violet chuckled, a smile breaking across her face. Lisbeth scowled at her. "This house is part of my research, for your information." At this she turned her attention to the couple. "Which brings me to a question I have for you: how long have you lived in this neighborhood?" Vivien and Ben exchanged a look.
"Well," Ben began, placing a hand on the back of his neck. "We've been here…"
"For a while," Violet interrupted. "Why do you ask?" Lisbeth gave the girl a cold look, then turned her attention back to Ben. "I was wondering if you were around to tell me about a certain family that was here in the early nineties; the Langdon's. Do you know of them?"
Silence. The only sound that could be heard was the soft sighs coming from Jonah as he slept in his mother's arms. Violet felt like she was going to fall right through the floor, and Ben and Vivien could feel the entire house vibrate the minute "Langdon" fell from her lips. Vivien held her son close to her chest.
"We weren't around for that, no," she said. "That was before our time here." Ben looked down at the counter, his eyebrows knit together, rage filling his body as he thought of the Langdon family, particularly the boy trapped downstairs. "What's the research on?" he questioned, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. "I know a little about what happened here – from the other neighbors. Maybe I could be of some help."
Lisbeth looked between the three Harmons, studying them carefully. Violet looked pale, paler than she already was, where as her parents look frightened and angry. They knew more than they were leading on. Lisbeth met the male Harmon's gaze. "I would appreciate that," she said. "Do you think we could schedule a time for an interview? I would be more prepared." Ben nodded, swallowing so hard that his Adam's apple pierced his skin. Lisbeth slid of the counter and leaned across the island, raising her hand towards him.
"How about tomorrow afternoon. I'll have coffee and sandwiches," she said. Ben looked down at her spindly fingers, and he grasped it in his own, pumping their arms. Lisbeth felt his cold palm against hers, and shivered at his touch. "Sounds good," Ben said. He turned to his family. "I think it's time we leave Lisbeth to her work, guys," he said. Vivien nodded, giving her son a soft smile before picking herself up from the booth.
"It was nice meeting you, Lisbeth," Vivien said, giving the girl a warm smile. Lisbeth gave her a crooked one, but it vanished quickly; something about Vivien didn't sit right with her. But not as much as the younger Harmon bothered her; Violet was still staring intently at Lisbeth, but her face was a sickly shade of green ever since Lisbeth mentioned her purpose at the house. Lisbeth held her ground.
She followed the Harmons to the front door, opening it and ushering them out. As glad as she was to know that at least one of them could be of assistance, she still wanted them away from her. Ben gave her a smirk and raised his hand towards her. "See you tomorrow!" he said, and him and his wife started walking down the porch steps, his arm around her shoulder. Violet followed, but quickly turned on her heel and bounded back up the stairs before giving Lisbeth a cold look.
"You're not welcome here," she sneered, her big brown eyes narrow slits, staring straight at Lisbeth. Lisbeth gave her a blank stare, blinking at the child in front of her. They were roughly the same height, but Lisbeth felt ten times smaller than this girl. "I didn't know I needed an invitation," Lisbeth said. Violet shook her head and ran after her parents as Lisbeth shut the door on the Harmons.