Bits and Pieces

Ch. 3: The One He Left Behind

A/n: I firmly believe that behind all the hooker banging, trash talking, bastardish behavior, Carl might have been a good guy. I'm not trying to make him into a tragic hero, or anything, but I think he wasn't a complete jackass. There's a sliver lining in him somewhere, I'm sure of it. Anna is my creation.

"Oi, Grimsrud!" said the warden, pounding a thick fist of his cell door. Grear and Carl looked up. "Ya gotta visitor!"

"Visitor?" muttered Grimsrud. He walked up to the cell door. "Who is it?"

"The wife of the guy ya shoved down the wood chipper," the warden replied. The Swedish man turned back to Carl, who looked utterly dumbstruck. "You had a wife?"

"Anna…" Carl whispered. He rose to his feet and walked through the door, leaving bloody footprints behind. Grear shifted his weight from foot to foot as the warden opened the door.

"Turn around, Grimsrud," the warden ordered. Grimsrud obeyed, wincing as handcuffs were clinched tightly around his wrists. "Come on." The warden led him down the hall and through a set of double doors leading to the visitors' area. Grimsrud was handcuffed to a chair. He flung his head back in order to get his stringy blond hair out of his eyes. A guard walked into the visitor's section, pointing a dark-haired woman over to the chair in front of Grimsrud. The woman sat down, looking as though she wanted to reach through the thick glass plate separating them and strangle him.

"So," she said in a coldly pained voice. She didn't say anything more. Grimsrud watched her silently for a moment. Anna Showalter was beautiful, and yet she didn't seem aware of it. Grimsrud could see why Carl would have fallen for her.

"Why are you here?" the prisoner asked. Anna's dark eyes latched onto his as she spoke.

"I wanted to look into the eyes of the man who killed my husband," she said.

Grimsrud felt a sudden wave of cold hit him. He looked over to his side and saw the bloody ghost of Carl Showalter standing next to him.

"Tell her I'm here," he said.

"Why? To make her think I'm flipping nuts?" Grimsrud asked out of the corner of his mouth. He cleared his throat and turned back to Anna. "Your husband was a jackass of the worst kind, you know. He deserved what he got."

"From the crimes you committed, you deserved to die a lot more then Carl did," rebuked Anna in a voice of forced calm. "You killed for the hell of it, Carl killed because he had to."

"He was married, and yet he banged any woman he came across!" Grimsrud said. "I wouldn't exactly call him a saint!"

"I'm not calling him a saint, I'm just saying that he was a good man!"

Grimsrud threw his head back and laughed. He pointed at the diamond ring that was visible on Anna's left hand.

"That ring meant nothing to him, trust me," he said. Anna broke down into sobs, pulling off the wedding ring of her finger and throwing across the room. Carl walked through the glass plating and made to comfort his widowed wife, even though he knew she couldn't see or hear him.

"Anna…I'm sorry, I was a total bastard, I know," he said. "I realize now how much I hurt you and I'm in Hell because of it. Please forgive me," he said. Anna wiped her eyes and sighed.

"Carl…God, I wish you were here," she whispered.

"I am!" said Showalter, waving a hand in front of her face. "I am here, Anna! Grear, tell her! Tell her, please!" Grimsrud said nothing; he just stared at the floor. Carl sighed. He walked through Anna, hoping she could feel his presence. Anna shivered and pulled her jacket tightly around her shoulders. Grimsrud could see the blood covering Showalter's wife, even though he knew that it was invisible to everyone else.

"Time's up, Mrs. Showalter," said a guard, putting a hand on Anna's shoulder. Anna nodded and rose to her feet. She turned back and spoke to Grimsrud once more.

"You will never know the pain of having to tell my son that his father is never coming home," she said bitterly. "I hope you rot in Hell."

Back in his cell, Grimsrud sat on his bed. Carl sat on the floor, his head resting on his knees.

"You never said anything about having a kid," the mortal man said. "Anna is gorgeous, how could you prefer streetwalkers to her?"

"She knew I was physically incapable of fidelity. I only married her because she got pregnant, all right?" Carl snapped. "It was great at first, but then I got tired of her. Our son, Jonathan…he'd be two by now. Johnny was the only reason I didn't divorce her." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping through various false IDs until he found what he was looking for. Showalter tossed the wallet to Grimsrud, who caught it. Inside the wallet was a photograph of a dark-haired toddler who was just beginning to get the weaselish features of his father.

"He looks like you," Grimsrud said.

"Last time I saw him, he had the angelic temperament of his mother, thank God," said Carl, taking his wallet back and placing it in his pocket. "Anna is a good woman. I may have been repeatedly unfaithful to her, but she always remained true to me." He sighed deeply. "Don't think I'm getting friendly with you, Grear. When I get back, all benevolence will be deader than me."

"Where are you going?" Grimsrud asked, happy that his ghostly cohort was leaving. Showalter snuck a quick peek at the photo of his son again as he spoke.

"Home."