Okay, so let's start the true story...thanks for reviewing, Bloodylilcorpse, QueenOfChocolateWinx, What'dIMiss and yeezynight14.
FIFTEEN YEARS LATER:
A familiar man looked out at his old home from the ship.
"Ah, Wawanakwa." He heard the voice coming from the man beside him, a younger idealistic blonde guy. "No matter how much I see during my travels, I always miss my home island. There's no place like it."
"Yes, there sure isn't." murmured the older man, in a deeper voice than the one he'd had when he'd last been there. Similarly, he had changed. Now, instead of his hair sticking upright, he slicked it down with gel, and it covered one of his eyes, both of which showed his insomnia, brought on by years of nightmares.
"Mal, dude?" The guy looked at him with concern. "You alright there?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, Geoff." The Malevolent one, the only thing that remained of the skilled friendly hairdresser, replied. "Just have some memories associated with my home that aren't so wonderful. Thanks for rescuing me up in Australia, by the way."
"Hey, no worries!" Geoff said cheerfully as the boat docked. "I suppose this is where we go our separate ways." He grinned. "Maybe I'll run into you in the city sometime!"
Mal smiled humourlessly. He couldn't help thinking how naive the young sailor was.
As he left, a woman who was in her mid-thirties walked past, her face half-hidden by her hood. At the last minute, she turned and looked at Mal. "Do I know you from somewhere?" she said.
Mal didn't recognize anything about her, so he answered shortly "No."
"Oh." the woman said blankly. Then she paused, before adding "Well, anyway, you look like a man who could use a woman for a night. I don't cost much, so-"
Mal walked straight past her, ignoring her plea for employment. Prostitutes disgusted him, especially when he thought of the sweet, virtuous wife he once had. But he thought nothing more of it as he hailed a taxi, and even after all this time, remembered the address.
However, the building he was dropped off at was not the one he remembered. It was run-down, dark, almost like a ghost flat. There was still the outdoor spiral staircase he remembered that led up to the little flat he'd shared with Zoey and Bridgette, but he could tell no one had lived there in quite some time. Even if it didn't have the For Rent sign hanging in the dusty window of the second story.
The downstairs, which had originally been another flat, now had a sign hanging over it: Bakery Of Savouries. So Mal shrugged, and entered. The woman at the counter was around his age, possibly a few years younger, but her prim and proper bun, little round glasses, and neat, plain blouse and skirt made her look older.
Her green eyes lit up when Mal entered. "Hello." she said politely. "What can I do for you?"
"Do you own the upstairs flat?" Mal asked straight out.
The girl scowled for a moment, but quickly straightened her face. "Yes, I do, but I don't live in it." she admitted. "I own this whole building. Look, I'll get to the point. Did you come in here to buy anything from my bakery?"
"Wasn't planning on it." Mal deadpanned. "I just wanted to rent the room."
Suddenly, the girl sighed. "I suppose I can't blame you." she admitted. "My sausage rolls and pies are probably the worst this side of the globe. The pastry's all right, but I can't afford the meat, and no one seems to like the tofu rolls I've done. It's either tofu rolls that no one will eat, or pies with nothing but fat."
Mal shrugged. "Maybe you'll be able to afford it once you become my landlady. Can I rent the room?"
The girl smiled slightly. "No one's wanted to rent that room for a while. People say it's haunted. Ever since the girl above moved out, about fourteen years ago."
Mal looked up at that. "This girl – did you know her?"
"I met her when I bought the place off her old landlord." the girl said. "She wasn't up there for long, though. Zoey, her name was. Pretty girl, but the poor thing was so naive. She lived up there with her husband and little girl for a while. But then the husband was hauled off on unclear charges – personally I think the jury had something against him and that he was probably innocent. I'd been to the salon he worked at, and that man wouldn't have harmed anyone."
"What happened to her?" Mal asked, the concern in his voice making him sound conflicted, as if his voice was never meant to show concern.
"After the trial, she was heartbroken. A man of the jury, Scott, he was called – he invited her to what he said was a gathering. It was at Judge Burromuerto's house, though. He hadn't mentioned what they were planning to do. Poor Zoey. When she finally returned back here the next morning, I heard, her dress was torn, she was bleeding and she had clearly been the victim of a gang rape. But because the judge was a man of the law, she couldn't accuse him."
"And what happened to her?" Mal asked in a hoarse whisper.
"Just after I bought the place, she poisoned herself." the girl answered matter-of-factly. "Arsenic."
"And her daughter?"
"The judge took her in. He's raised her as his own daughter."
The expression on Mal's face when he didn't answer straightaway told her everything. "I know! That's you, isn't it? You were Zoey's husband?"
"And now she's gone..." Mal whispered. He shook his head. "I'm not the same person I was, then." he said. "I need a new name, anyway. You can call me Mal."
The girl held out her hand and shook his. "I'm Scarlett." she said. "The rent's due at the end of each month."
A dark smirk appeared on Mal's face as he shook hands with her. He had a feeling that she was going to prove to be a very interesting landlady.
Yeah, I felt like a shop that only sold pies was a bit unrealistic for today, so I made it a full-fledged bakery that only sold savouries. And...well...no offence to anyone who does like tofu, but I can't see it going with pies or sausage rolls. Also, I thought street prostitute was kind of an upgrade from beggar woman, but not by much – after all, she does offer her body up near the start of the musical. Also, Mike now being Mal...he needed a new identity, just as he did in the show.