~ Who Was Going To Miss An Angel Or Two, Anyway? ~
by the Fallen
DISCLAIMER: This story is intended for mature readers only. It does feature some sexual scenes and a little violence. The (very) depressing storyline concentrates on a tragic love affair between two women and so it is recommended that only mature adults should read it. The following story is ©1998 The Fallen and is written purely for entertainment purposes. It cannot be reproduced in any shape or form without the author's prior consent. The Xena: Warrior Princess series, and the characters of Melinda Pappas/Xena and Janice Covington/Gabrielle are the copyrighted property of MCA/Universal/Renaissance Pictures.
DISCLAIMER (HUMOROUS): Despite Melinda's claim to the contrary, no heavenly creatures were harmed during the production of this story.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a short story featuring the two main characters from the Xena: Warrior Princess second season episode The Xena Scrolls. It is meant to follow on directly from a previous story of mine entitled And a Nightingale... which you really need to have read in order to understand this story. Contrary to what a lot of people have thought, And a Nightingale... was not Chapter One (or any other chapter) of an ongoing story; it was a single, stand-alone, short story. I only began writing the following story after receiving many positive comments about And a Nightingale... This story is not really a sequel but more of a continuation, beginning as it does the morning after the events of the night before. However, as no sequel/follow-up is ever as good as the original, I apologize in advance if anybody finds this story a disappointment. It's certainly much more depressing...
Who Was Going To Miss An Angel Or Two, Anyway?
A
Xena: Warrior Princess story
by The Fallen [e-mail:
ukfallenangel@yahoo.com]
London, England: January 1943
Melinda was the first to wake.
She stared up at the ceiling for a minute or two, before daring to look down. Janice was still asleep. The redhead lay on her side, an arm stretched out diagonally across Mel's chest, the hand lightly resting on her right shoulder.
It felt... strange. Uncomfortable, certainly. Janice's knees were high up, digging into Mel's thigh almost painfully. Mel's left arm was numb, trapped as it was beneath the young girl, wrapped under her waist and hip. And God, were her feet cold...
After years of sleeping alone, the lack of comfort had come as a shock to Mel. But then, so had waking to find another body pressed against hers. Another woman's body... and that was making her a damn sight more uneasy than any physical discomfort.
Uneasy and afraid.
With her free hand, Mel gently caressed Janice's cheek, brushing away strands of red hair. The skin was tanned but despite Janice's lack of care, still soft. Her fingertips moved down, running around the girl's slightly open lips. Mel circled the thin lips with a single finger, revelling in the slight resistance, the soft touch. She continued for a little while, engrossed in the sensual activity despite her reservations about their physical proximity. Her finger prodded the slightly fatter bottom lip and then Mel pulled tenderly. The lip came down, displaying white teeth and pink gums. Mel's finger dropped to Janice's chin and the lip sprang back with a quiet thud. Mel couldn't help giggling.
She shifted a little, trying not wake Janice. Mel didn't want her to wake, couldn't face the inevitable confrontation. But she had to move, had to get out of bed and away from the other woman. The closeness... the intimacy... was something she could no longer bear.
Mel gently tugged her arm free and was rewarded with Janice rolling over to the left. Now separated from her lover, Mel climbed out of the soft bed as cautiously as possible and took her bathrobe from one of the dresser's drawers.
Slipping the robe on, Mel walked around the bed and retrieved the nearly empty gin bottle. She took another glass from within the drinks cabinet and poured out what little gin remained. The untouched glass was placed on the dresser near the window as Mel knelt down and began cleaning up the broken shards of glass with a dustpan and brush she took from under the bed. Once certain no slivers of glass remained on the carpet, Mel put the full dustpan back.
She rose to her feet and stood in front of the window. Her hands curled around the glass of gin as if it was a hot cup of coffee and she was seeking a source of warmth. But all she sought was a refuge from her thoughts and emotions, and alcohol seemed to be the only answer.
A storm raged outside. The dark sky was now a slashing wall of gray, as if the heavens had opened fully and in divine retribution God had unleashed a flood upon the world.
A torrent of rain pattered heavily against the window like a desperately caged animal, the wind shaking the pane with a howl. Raindrops pockmarked the glass, running at a slight angle into streaks. The wooden frame was rotten and splintered, green mould struggling for dominance over the off-white paint. How the pane managed to take such punishment from the elements and remain intact and in place seem to be a matter of faith alone.
It was still dark outside. The city was a misshapen blanket of gray and black, long abandoned by the sun. Not a single light could be seen. There was nothing outside but the darkness.
London was dying. The city had been left alone to die and no one seemed to give a damn.
Mel shivered, only partly due to the cold. A horrible thought, she told herself. Being left alone to slowly die, knowing no one cared...
An ambulance sped past the front of the hotel, its bell clanging noisily. Mel's attention snapped back to Janice, hoping that the sudden alarm did not wake her. She need not have worried, for Janice didn't even stir.
Mel stared at the girl. Her pale blue eyes were entranced by the contours of the woolen bedclothes which gave only a vague impression of the slim figure beneath them.
If asked, Mel would have been the first to admit that she wasn't pretty. Her face was too round, her neck too thin and her chin too weak. Her body was out of shape thanks to far too many of her Momma's dinners and a relatively easy life. Her stomach had a slight paunch, her ankles were thick and her posterior was too big.
But there in the bed... there was perfection in female form. A body without a trace of fat. Slender legs, a slim waist, a small but perfect bosom. Beneath the flawless skin rippled perfectly shaped muscles. Soft red hair framed an attractive face. The faintest amount of freckling covered the small snub nose. And the eyes... if she wanted, Janice could hide herself behind those pale green eyes and no one would ever reach her.
It wasn't wholly jealously that Mel felt, more... admiration.
No! No, Mel told herself, it wasn't anything of the sort. Oh God, what had she done? Why had she let last night happen? Whatever had possessed her?
She dragged her gaze away from the sleeping girl and stared back out of the window, feeling nothing but pity for those poor souls who were venturing outside on a stormy day like this. She couldn't understand what had made her act the way she did. Her mind was a seaside fairground of confusion with penny rides of jumbled words and mixed-up sentences racing through her thoughts, and she was unable to grasp any of them.
Mel didn't have what you would call a wealth of experience in sexual matters, more what you would call a small savings account. But she wasn't as innocent as she made out nor as much as other people often thought. Her late mother had made sure her only daughter knew of the wicked ways of men before she left the safety of the family home. But she had never said a word about women. And foolish Mel had never suspected a woman could be dangerous... until now.
Desperate thoughts bobbed up and down in Melinda's mind, each a rock of salvation amongst a tormented sea of despair. She had to find one, a word or two that would hold firm, that she could grasp... an excuse, a reason, something... anything that brought her comfort and told her she was safe and sound. But there was nothing. Her few past relationships floated around her, each slowly drowning in misery, the men crying out for her to save them. Or perhaps for her to save herself.
Mel had never before dreamt of making love to another woman. Why now? And why this particular woman? What was happening to her?
Was it all her fault? Did she push too hard? Mel thought hard, desperately trying to remember the events of last night. She wished she hadn't drunk anything. Who kissed who first? Janice leant towards her, didn't she? Yet Mel had held her... embraced her... caressed her. Was it any wonder Janice got the wrong idea? thought Mel. But was it the wrong idea? Had she meant anything of what she said to Janice? Or anything of what she did?
Mel smiled to herself, the small grin a sudden contrast from the worried frown and sullen expression. At least Janice didn't reject her. How many others could she truly say that about?
Her hands were trembling as she raised the glass of gin to her lips and sipped slowly. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. The smells of the room rushed into her nostrils and she shuddered in distaste. Mel realised she smelt of stale sweat and of... her. She smelt of Janice. She desperately needed to wash herself.
Mel closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on something else, blocking out the foul smells and her fears and worries. Her subconscious came to the fore, and took her to another time, another place...
* * * * *
Olive trees.
She could smell olive trees, their scent carried by a cold breeze. She could feel the cold night wind brush the back of her neck, causing her to shiver where she sat. The leather and metal straps of the armor felt like ice against her skin and it was only the small fire before her that kept her body warm.
She felt a sharp stab of pain and she winced without realizing it. Someone apologized and she glanced down at the speaker.
Gabrielle smiled as she looked up. Her hands were padding gently at a thin, two-inch cut on Xena's thigh. The cloth Gabrielle held was cold and wet, and she continued to slowly and gently clean the small wound. A bandage followed, wrapped tightly around the tanned thigh, encasing the wound within folds of grayish-white.
Small hands tied the ends of the bandage in a tight knot. The wound tended to, there was no need for the hands to linger. Yet they did, seemingly stuck fast to the soft flesh of the thigh. No words were exchanged, but eye contact was made.
Gabrielle retreated, moving her hands away, her fresh emotional wound now more painful than Xena's physical one could ever be.
Now it was Xena who apologized. She reached out, her hands taking hold of Gabrielle's hands, and gently pulled the young girl closer. A clumsy rejection was transformed into a reluctant invitation.
* * * * *
It was later now. Years had passed and the time had not been kind to either of them.
It was hotter too, she noticed. No breeze rustled the thickly wooded forest that surrounded the lake, nor cooled the heat of the midday sun. She was naked and wet, her body covered with droplets of the lake's warm water. Sand stuck to her legs and rear as she sat on the shore, waiting for her love.
Gabrielle stepped out of the woods and dropped lazily down beside her. She had several pieces of fruit cradled in her arms and she dropped them on to the blanket that was crumpled up to one side.
Xena looked at her naked friend and was rewarded with a momentary smile before the white teeth plunged into an apple. She picked out a small pear for herself but gasped in shock when she bit into it, for the cool juices dribbled quickly down her chin and neck.
She accepted Gabrielle's burst of laughter with good grace and reached for the blanket to wipe herself clean. Her hand was stopped by Gabrielle's, and their eyes met. The young girl turned to throw her half-eaten apple into the sea, and not understanding her friends intention, Xena reached again for the blanket. Gabrielle twisted around and pushed Xena back onto the sand. She climbed on top of the warrior and her head dived, playfully licking the fruit juices from her neck and chin.
Much later, the pair lay in each other's arms, Gabrielle's head resting on Xena's shoulder. Gabrielle was asleep, having been lulled by Morpheus' tricks of an uncomfortable heat and the lapping of waves against a shore. Xena couldn't take her eyes off the young girl, running her hand through her long strawberry-blonde hair. She pulled Gabrielle closer, held her tighter. She didn't want to let her go.
Sighing with regret, Xena closed her eyes...
* * * * *
...her eyes shot open, for suddenly Mel knew what Xena knew.
Xena was just using Gabrielle. Mistreating her, abusing her. Putting the poor girl through hell and expecting Gabrielle to keep tagging along obediently. Oh, Mel thought, Xena may have claimed to be on the right path and she certainly performed many good deeds, but she was still a liar and a cheat. Nothing more than a bitch who needed Gabrielle to keep her sane, to keep her violent temper in check. And the only was she could keep Gabrielle near was to bribe her with what she most wanted.
Xena wasn't a... a lesbian, thought Mel, choking back tears caused by her use of the word she had tried to avoid. Tears caused by her admission of guilt.
It was Gabrielle. The naive and innocent Gabrielle, unsure of everything until she found Perdicus. And when Callisto's sword ripped through Perdicus' ribcage, it tore Gabrielle's heart apart too. The girl looked elsewhere. Found comfort in the arms of another. Found solace in reversing her decision.
It was Gabrielle who need sexual love, and Xena... damn her... provided it. Provided it for no other reason than to keep her beloved Gabrielle close. Anything rather than lose her.
It disgusted Mel, knowing how they treated each other. One using the other to keep her near, the other to achieve sexual abandon and forget all her woes. A pair of leeches, devouring and torturing each other at the same time...
Was that what happened last night? Mel asked herself. Did she and Janice use each other? Did she need Janice as much as Janice needed her?
With a sudden exclamation, Mel violently slammed the gin glass down on to the dresser.
There was movement behind her, and Mel turned to see Janice watching her through bleary eyes. The young girl stretched, the bedsheets rustling as they matched her movements.
"Isn't it a bit early for that?" Janice asked, nodding towards the empty glass.
Mel could have said anything. She could have explained what she knew, or tried to tell Janice what she felt. She could have spoken of her worries that Janice would reject her, or of her fear that Janice might not. But she chose not to, and instead simply said: "I needed a drink."
Janice coughed noisily, a throaty gasping sound that continued for a moment or two. She gulped before speaking. "Yeah?" she croaked. "Well, I need a smoke." She leaned over the edge of the bed to wear her clothes lay and rifled through her shirt pockets. She found she only had two cigars left, and both of them were little more than stubs. She picked the longer one out and, sitting up in bed again, lit it carefully. With the cigar firmly clamped between her teeth, she reached down and drew the bed sheets up around her, more because of the cold than any sense of modesty.
Mel stepped closer and perched herself on the edge of the bed beside Janice. "We need to talk," she said.
Janice exhaled an unhealthy amount of smoke. "Damn right we do."
The two women looked at each other for a moment, each unsure of what to say or how to say it. Each hoping the other would speak first.
The silence was eventually broken by Janice, who reached up and brushed Melinda's dark hair over her shoulder and away from her neck. "You look good with your hair loose," she said. "You should keep it that way."
Mel pulled away from her touch. "It's untidy."
"It suits you," Janice told her, plucking the almost dead cigar from her lips and dropping it in the ashtray.
Mel leant forward on the bed, using her arms for support, and lowered her head towards Janice. She made to kiss her, but the redhead turned away. Mel backed off, sitting up straight once more. What was happening here? Mel thought. Surely she was the one who was having difficulties in coming to terms with this situation, not Janice?
Seeing the puzzled look on the dark-haired woman's face, Janice shrugged casually. "My breath's pretty foul in the morning."
"Right," Mel said, nodding.
Janice frowned. "Something on your mind?"
Now it was Mel's turn to shrug. "Just something my momma once told me, when I was little."
"What's that?"
Mel looked directly at Janice, stared into those terrifying pale green eyes. "Every time you tell a lie," she said, "an angel falls from heaven."
Janice tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it. "Is that supposed to mean something?"
"Everything is meant to mean something," Mel told her. "It's just a matter of knowing where to look."
There was silence for a minute or two, and then Mel stood up. "I'd better get washed," she said, as she headed for the bathroom, taking with her some fresh clothes from the dresser's drawers. The door closed behind her with a soft click and then her muffled voice could be heard again. "Do you want to have breakfast here?"
"No," Janice said.
"Pardon?" Mel yelled from within the bathroom.
"No!" Janice said a little louder.
"You're not hungry?"
Janice pulled the thick blue curtains closed and flicked on the overhead light. "Not really," she said as she gathered up her clothes. Then, in a softer voice so Mel would not hear, she said: "I'm not really hungry for anything. Not anymore."
* * * * *
Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened and the now clothed Mel stepped out drying her hair vigorously with a towel. She sat down by the dresser and began running a comb through the tangled dark strands. She caught sight of the fully-dressed Janice in the mirror, and not stopping her combing, she turned around.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
Janice flopped back on to the bed. She had tidied the room and made the bed when Melinda was in the bathroom. "I just wish I had my pistol, that's all," she said quietly.
"Why?" Mel laughed. "Don't tell me you feel naked without it?"
"Something like that," Janice said. She pursed her lips. "You were right."
"Was I? What about?"
"What you said last night."
Mel smiled, but inside her heart was pounding. She didn't understand where this was leading and she certainly didn't like the way Janice was acting. "Really? I said a lot of things last night, and truth be told," she said, lying, "I can't remember all of them."
"It happened."
"What happened?"
Janice inclined her head to look at Melinda. "Gabrielle," was all she said.
Melinda breathed a sigh of relief. That would explain why Janice was behaving so strangely. She turned back to face the dresser's mirror and after putting the comb down tried to arrange her hair into her usual bun. "When?" she asked, mumbling slightly due to the hairpins she held between her lips.
"I would have thought that was fairly obvious."
Mel almost swallowed the last hairpin. "Oh," was all she could think of to say for a moment. "Well, that's good, isn't it?"
"I suppose so," Janice said softly.
"I mean," said Mel, trying again, "it's what you wanted. Wasn't it?"
"And you'd know all about what I wanted, wouldn't you?" Janice snapped.
Mel swallowed nervously as she put the finishing touches to her hair. "I'm sorry?" she said.
"I knew what Gabrielle knew, saw what she saw, felt was she felt... but with hindsight," Janice said angrily. "You didn't tell me about that part, did you? How you still retained your own knowledge as you experienced Xena's life."
Melinda stood up, tucking the chair back beneath the dresser. "Have you seen my glasses?"
Janice held them out for her to take, as she too rose to her feet. "Gabrielle was a fool. Sweet and innocent, but a fool nonetheless. She couldn't see it. Couldn't see how Xena was just using her... taking advantage of her."
"Oh my..." Mel muttered.
"Xena just taunted her, didn't she?" Janice asked, her voice rising in volume. "Kept her on a leash, promising a little reward now and then for all the hardships she had to endure as Xena's companion."
Melinda tried to say something, tried to explain how Gabrielle used Xena just as much, maybe even more. But she couldn't bring herself to say it. She knew where this argument was heading but found herself unable to prevent it. "Do you mind keeping your voice down?" she said.
Janice took no notice. "I used to admire Xena. I wanted to be her, for pity's sake!" she said, spitting out the bitter words. "But now I know. She needed Gabrielle to make sure she didn't stray from the straight and narrow... to ensure she didn't return to her old ways. She'd do anything to keep Gabrielle... and you're the same."
Mel looked at her sharply, her blues eyes glistening slightly behind the lenses of her spectacles. "What? I'm not Xena."
"No, you're worse. You know what Xena did to Gabrielle and you still make the same mistake with me. What is with you? Are you trying to live out some fantasy life, pretending that you're Xena? Is that it?"
"No, I just..."
Janice threw her arms up in despair. "You must have been overjoyed when you got my telegram," she exclaimed. "Mel gets her sidekick, just like Xena had hers. But you didn't know what to expect, did you? Didn't know how to entice me in."
"Janice, calm down..."
Not listening, Janice continued. "But I walked straight into it. Allowed you to see my weaknesses and my needs..." She folded her arms and looked away. "God, how could I have been so stupid to think that you actually cared for me?"
Janice said nothing more and Melinda, glad of the brief respite from the torrent of verbal abuse, kept quiet too. Despite her building anger, Mel waited and bided her time before speaking. She waited for an extra minute, then another, giving the young woman time to calm down.
"I'm sorry," she began slowly, "if that's what you think, but you're wrong. I do care for you. Last night meant..." Her words faltered and her emotions betrayed her until she found it impossible to say what she so desperately wanted to say. "I did..." she said hesitantly, "what I did because I thought you needed..." Say me, her emotions screamed at her. Say me! "Someone..."
Janice's temper suddenly flared. "I don't need anyone!" she screamed. "You hear me? Anyone!"
She might have said more, but her yelling was cut short when Mel soundly slapped her across the face. "Now you just listen to me!" Mel yelled back as Janice's hand reached up to her burning cheek. "I'm not Xena!"
Janice collapsed without warning, dropping to the floor and falling against the bed. Tears were in her eyes and try as she might to fight them back, they kept coming.
Mel knelt down, the light blue fabric of her skirt stretching visibly as she crouched. She took Janice's hand in hers and the young girl turned to look at her through blurred eyes.
"I'm not Xena," Mel repeated, "and you're not Gabrielle. They're a part of us, yes, and it would be stupid of either of us to deny it. But we're different people, in a different time. Our lives don't have to follow the same paths as theirs did."
"But they are!" Janice protested.
"No!" Mel said angrily. "No, they're not! Listen, I didn't use you last night. I couldn't have done. To be honest, I don't know why I did what I did."
Janice's face betrayed her disappointment but she said nothing.
Oh great, Mel thought. Nothing like the truth to really kill a relationship. "Maybe..." she began, frowning as she searched for the right thing to say. "Maybe I did it because I thought that's what you wanted. But was that wrong? Is it so wrong to use someone, if that's what they really wanted all along?"
Janice's tears had stopped and she wiped at her eyes with her shirt cuffs. "Are you saying I wanted to be used?" she asked, sniffling slightly.
"I'm saying you wanted to be... wanted," Mel said tactfully. "To be cared for. You wanted someone to hold you, to make you feel safe and secure. And perhaps I wanted someone to need me."
"We used each other..." Janice said quietly.
"Does it matter if we did?"
"No, I guess not," replied Janice, although she did not seem all too sure.
Mel smiled at her and was rewarded with a watery grin. "I was having second thoughts when I woke this morning," she admitted. "But not anymore." She brushed back a loose strand or two of Janice's hair. "No regrets?"
"No," said Janice. "I'm certain about what I have to do now." She got to her feet, and Mel, still holding onto her hand, followed suit.
The pair hugged, holding each other tight. Janice's hands gripped Mel's back fiercely, her fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath the pale blue jacket and silk blouse.
"I loved you from the moment I first saw you," Janice whispered in her ear.
Mel broke the embrace but took hold of the redhead's hands once more. "I know," she said, and then laughed suddenly. "God knows why! I must have looked a sight, tottering through the mud in my heels!"
Janice didn't laugh but managed a weak smile.
Mel looked at her, a worried expression briefly passing across her face. Something still didn't seem right. "We still have to talk about this. But we'll talk about us..." she said, coaxing another smile from the younger woman, "and not about Xena and Gabrielle."
Nodding, Janice raised her arm and wiped her eyes on the upper part of her sleeve. "I could do with a bath," she commented as her nose took in the odor beneath her arm.
"Sure," Mel told, gently stroking the back of Janice's hands with her thumbs. "Although I doubt the water will be very hot at this time of morning."
"It doesn't matter." Janice stood up, and began unbuttoning her shirt. She stopped abruptly and looked down at Mel. "Listen, I fancy a long soak. Why don't you get some breakfast?"
"I don't mind waiting," Mel told her.
"No," Janice said, as she headed for the bathroom, "there's no point... in you hanging around, kicking your heels. Go and get something to eat. Oh, and a newspaper."
Mel grabbed her purse from the beside cabinet and quickly searched through it for any spare change. She saw the bathroom door shut slowly but waited until the sound of running water could be heard before she left.
* * * * *
Janice leaned against the bathroom door, noticing as it shut that there was no lock. It didn't matter.
She couldn't hear Mel outside so she crossed to the iron bathtub and quickly spun the hot water tap. As the water gushed out, she heard the slamming of the hotel room's door.
Relaxing slightly, Janice stood watching the spirals of steam that rose from the quickly filling tub. She took her last cigar from her shirt pocket, lighting it with one hand as the other switched off the tap. She ran a hand through the water, only to find that it was reasonably hot. Not hot enough, but it would do.
As she peeled off her clothes, carefully keeping the cigar clamped between her teeth, she considered her options. Quickly she began ticking various choices off in her mind, seemingly losing an option each time she discarded a garment. Until she was left with just one path.
Had she just thrown away what she most wanted? Janice thought to herself. Why did she have to lie to Mel, telling her all was well? Couldn't she just have accepted what Mel had told her? Surely she could have learnt to live with knowing Mel was using her. Didn't she need Mel too?
But how could Mel treat her like that? Because that's the way Xena treated Gabrielle. Why else? For when Gabrielle desperately needed someone, when she was all alone in the night and her body wanted to do nothing more than fade away, Xena was there. Just because that's what she thought Gabrielle wanted.
Was Gabrielle the fool for not knowing Xena was using her? Or was Janice, for knowing and still allowing it to happen?
But, Janice thought, perhaps Gabrielle used Xena too. She wanted her love, her affection... but most of all she simply wanted her.
Perhaps they used each other. Isn't that what friends... lovers... do?
Maybe Mel just wanted her be happy. And maybe she did whatever she could to achieve that.
Isn't being used better than being ignored?
Suddenly, Janice felt sick. She shook her head as if to clear her mind, and pushed her clothes to one corner of the room with her foot.
The soap on the side of the bath was nothing more than a sliver. Janice tugged open the mirrored door to the bathroom cabinet and searched through the contents. A half-empty bottle of greenish medicine. Half a pair of scissors. A rolled up bandage. A shaving mug, next to a rusty cut-throat razor. A box of cotton wool which was nearly empty.
Nothing more.
Nothing more than she needed.
Janice never knew her mother. Her father had died some time ago. She'd lost the Xena Scrolls, the only thing she that had kept her sane over the last few years. She'd lost her dream of being a descendant of Xena, and instead was stuck with the pitiful Gabrielle, who needed other people more than she was needed. And now, she lost her only chance of happiness.
The millennia old relationship of Xena and Gabrielle seemed to haunt her, dragging her down in a spiral of despair, misery and discontent.
Janice closed the cabinet door and looked at the reflection in the mirror.
And it spat in her face.
* * * * *
Approximately half an hour later, Mel walked jauntily up the stairs, uncertain but happy.
The choice at breakfast had been limited and what she had ordered was fairly tasteless, but as Mel was hungry she had eaten all that was set before her. She had reached a decision during breakfast too.
Janice was the one for her.
Oh, Mel knew it would be difficult. People would talk, gossip would spread. Certain influential people at the university might disapprove. To hell with them all. She hadn't fallen in love with Janice's gender, but Janice herself.
Both women would have to work hard at it, but their relationship could work. She was certain of that now.
Strange really. She was the one who was doubtful to begin with, the weak one, the one who couldn't imagine being with another woman. Janice was the stronger, self-assured one. And yet, she had to allay Janice's doubts and worries, and in doing so had convinced herself that this was right.
Mel padded quietly down the corridor, past the wilting plants, until she reached her room. She pushed the door open, half-expecting to find Janice dressed and waiting. She was disappointed.
She threw her purse on to the bedside cabinet and dropped down on to the edge of the bed. After pulling off her shoes, she rubbed at her stockinged feet.
"Janice?" she said to the closed bathroom door. "I was thinking, maybe we should go away for a couple of days. Somewhere on the coast perhaps."
There was no reply. Thinking she had not been heard, Mel stood up and crossed the room. "Brighton might be a good place to visit," she continued to say. "We could get away from it all. Talk things through."
Still no response.
After knocking gently and calling her name once more, Mel pushed the door open, only to find that Janice didn't seem to be there. A fleeting worry that the young woman may have walked out on her crossed Mel's mind but was dismissed almost instantly when she saw the water still in the bathtub.
The water was cold now.
And red.
Mel dived across the room, skidding on her knees and ripping her silk stockings. Her arms flayed through the water in desperation, brushing aside a discarded cigar butt. Her hands sought a purchase, a grip on what was hidden from view, but the water and her panic made it difficult. Her fingers collided with the bottom of the tub, her knuckles scraping against a piece of thin metal. Crimson water splashed her blouse, her jacket and her face. Eventually her hands gripped an elbow and she hauled upwards.
Janice's corpse was pale, the tan almost non-existent, the skin an unhealthy whitish-pink. Mel screamed involuntarily as she struggled to keep a firm hold on the body. She gripped it under the armpits and heaved it over the edge of the tub, flooding the bathroom floor with scarlet water. The body collapsed face down on the tiles.
Mel collapsed too, partly due to shock, partly from the sudden physical effort. She dropped to the floor, her legs bent beneath her. Her blue skirt and jacket were stained with red blotches, and her silk blouse was soaked through. Reaching out, she turned the corpse over and dragged it closer. Nearer she pulled it, until the head was resting by her knee.
Janice's face was a sickening shade of white. Her features were drawn and haggard, her lips thin and her mouth was partly open. Green eyes that had once captivated Mel now stared blankly up at her.
There was a banging on the hotel room's door and then it was suddenly thrown open, but Mel did not hear anything. She was unable to tear her gaze away from the red gash in Janice's arm, spreading diagonally along the inside of the forearm, from wrist to elbow.
Wrapping her arms around Janice, Mel drew her even closer, letting her head fall into her lap. Janice felt cold and uninviting, so unlike the night before. She brushed wet strands of dark auburn hair away from the pale forehead with her fingertips, caressed the nose and lips, the cheeks and neck.
Ignoring the shocked guests that crowded at the bathroom door, Mel began to talk to her love.
Telling her nothing was wrong.
Telling her everything was fine.
Who was going to miss an angel or two, anyway?
The Athenaeum's Scroll Archive