Hard days I'm traveling alone for too long
Oh if I had you beside me
This life I'm living's getting so hard to feel
Ooh, I'm missing you
I'm always somewhere that I never belong
Ooh I'm missing you
I'm moving so fast it doesn't seem true
Ooh I'm missing you
I'm getting closer, but I don't know what to
Ooh, I'm missing you
Then I might sleep through the night
Your love is the promise that guides me
All of the days of my life.
Ooh, I'm missing you
The days are empty and the nights are unreal
Ooh, I'm missing you
The bar was quiet and dark, which Victor wanted. He'd driven straight through to New York, only stopping for gas and to stretch his legs. He needed to take a break. A cold beer was just the thing.
It wasn't yet six p.m. and the place was fairly deserted. He selected a table in the back and sat down, his back to the wall. Shortly after he'd settled in and lit up a cigarette, a skinny waitress with long brown hair came over and asked him what he wanted. He ordered a Coors. When the waitress walked away, he leaned back in his chair and looked around. The place wasn't anything to brag about, a long room, wooden walls and floor, a couple pool tables and a juke box. It reminded him of a bar in Jericho. He supposed every small town had a place like this, only the names changed. The one in Jericho was called Dan's Place (or, as the locals called it, "Dan's Dive.") This one was named Harry's Hideaway. Except for a few minor furnishings, they could have been the same place.
The waitress returned with his beer. He paid for it, giving her a two dollar tip, which made her smile. She ought to, he thought, damned beer was only two fifty. He was feeling rather generous today. When she left the table, he sipped his beer. Grateful for the cool, smooth-yet-bitter taste of it. Nothing in the world tasted quite as good as a cold beer after a long, hot drive.
People were starting to come into the place, mostly working Joe’s, probably stopping off for a cold one before heading home to the wife and kids. Nobody looked twice at Victor, which he liked just fine. Back in Jericho everyone knew him and spent their time either avoiding him or kissing his ass. One of the drawbacks of being in the "law enforcement" business. Victor didn't really mind it all that much, he liked the power of eliciting a strong reaction from people, but sometimes it was good to be able to blend into a place. He knew at any point, he could make anyone in this place notice him in a hurry; if he wanted them to.
A group of women in their early to mid twenties came into the place, greeted the bartender and a few of the patrons in the place. They sat down together at a large round table near the juke box. From where Victor was sitting, he could see all five of them just fine. Four of them were wearing dress slacks or skirts and looked like office workers, but the fifth wore blue jeans and a tight blue T-shirt. She had long brown hair pulled away from her face in a simple pony tail.
Victor watched the blue jean girl from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be obvious about it. There was something about her that set her apart from her friends, not just her clothes and hair, but her entire attitude. While the other girls sat at the table sipping their mixed drinks and talking quietly, this girl ordered a Budwiser and looked around the room, fidgeting in her chair as if she was overflowing with energy. On his way here, Victor passed an industrial complex, he guessed that this was where the group of girls worked, the other four were obviously office workers, but the fifth wasn't. She was probably in shipping or some other hands on, physical work.
She drank about half her beer and leaped up from the table. "We need some tunes!" she announced to the group and strode over to the juke box, pulling a handful of change from her pocket along the way. She fed quarters into the machine quickly, hardly looking at the selections as she punched the buttons. Obviously, she knew the songs available almost from memory. The juke box whirled into life, playing a song by Animotion called "Obsession." She started moving with the music easily, not caring who saw her.
Victor watched her, a faint grin spreading across his face. This girl wasn't his type, not that it mattered, but she might make an interesting distraction. After all, I won't be free to do this sort of thing for long, he told himself. I might as well have some fun. He continued to watch her, not openly staring at her, just glancing in her direction. It wasn't long before she "caught" him watching her. She tossed a saucy grin in his direction and kept right on enjoying the music. If anything, her private dance got a bit more suggestive in the moves. Victor continued to watch, being a bit more obvious about it now. The rest of the customers, including her four friends weren't paying much attention, obviously quite used to her behavior. She was a pretty good dance too, he had to admit.
Victor continued gazing at her, wondering who would make the first move. He knew he could approach her, but this was a power-play moment. What did he want to be tonight, the hunter or the hunted? Both had their advantages and usually he enjoyed the hunter role. Tonight though, he wanted to be the hunted. Her glances in his direction became more frequent and bolder. He lowered his head a couple times, looking away as if bashful at being caught. This was role play time; he was the good-looking guy, slightly shy. She was the bold, eighties, aggressive woman. In truth, she probably goes home every night and looks through the pages of Bride magazine and dreams for the day some guy will marry her, the dumb shit, he thought. Little does she know it's never going to happen. She's a plaything, not someone you get serious about.
They played the watching game long enough for Victor to finish one beer and order a second. When the second one came and the waitress paid, Victor decided he'd better hurry this along a bit. He glanced at his watch, looking as if he were debating if he had time to sip his beer or if he should gulp it down. Ms. jean-queen caught the time check and drew in a deep breath as if to draw courage from the very oxygen and started towards him. Victor lit up a cigarette, focusing on the flame and the lighter, being careful not to look at her as she approached.
She came up to the table and stood by it. "Hey, got an extra one of those?" she asked, pointing to his cigarette pack.
He looked up at her, tipping his head to one side as if seeing her for the first time. Demanding little bitch, he thought. "Ah didn't catch your name," he said slowly.
To give her some credit, she at least had the decency to blush. "Janella, my name is Janella. S-sorry." Again she pointed to the package of Marlboros. "Do you got an extra one of those?"
"Well Janella, that's a very pretty name." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Very unusual."
"Yeah, my mother thought it would be unique." She rolled her eyes as if annoyed, although Victor could tell she loved her different name. "So, do you have an extra cigarette?"
He'd thought at first she was used to these situations, but now he wondered. She seemed very unsure of herself as if approaching men in bars was a new game. "Janella, my name is Victor." He held out his hand. "An' it's a pleasure t'meet you."
An expression of mild shock flickered over her fine features and she accepted his hand, shaking it gingerly. "N-nice t'meet you Victor. Now, about that cigarette?" She grinned faintly.
"Oh yeah, you wanted a cigarette." He picked up his pack and flipped it open, as if to take inventory. "Sure, Ah can spare one." He put the pack back on the table, pushing it towards her. As she reached out to take it, he brought his hand down, covering hers and the pack. "Under one condition..."
"Which is?" She tried to pull her hand back, but he had a tight grip on it.
"That you stay here t'smoke it," Victor smiled softly. "Ah'm new t'these parts an' Ah wouldn't mind havin' a pretty girl t'talk to." He took his hand away.
Her nervous expression changed into a wide smile. "Throw in a beer and you've got a deal."
"Ah was gonna ask you if you wanted a drink anyway."
She sat down, taking a cigarette from the pack and bringing it to her lips. As she was fumbling with her pockets, trying to find a match, he flicked his lighter on and held it out to her. She grinned and leaned over to light her cigarette. She took a deep drag and exhaled, leaning back in her chair. "Oh this tastes good. I'm trying to quit, but occationally I just gotta have one." She looked at him with an impish grin.
"Ah don't know if Ah should let you have that then," he said, smiling to show he was joking. "Ah'd hate t'be the cause of you not quitting successfully."
She shook her head. "Nah, like I said, I've gotta have one once in awhile. I've only smoked six this week, and I used to smoke two and a half packs a day, so I think I'm doing pretty good."
"Congratulations," he said. "Now, what would you like to drink?"
She looked at his bottle. "Oh, a Coors'll be fine with me."
He signaled the waitress and ordered her beer for her. When the waitress left, he leaned back in his chair, watching her. "So Janella, you live around here?"
She nodded, exhaling a long stream of smoke from her nose. "I live a few miles up the road. Where are you from? Down South I'd guess by the accent..."
"South Carolina," he confirmed for her. "Little town called Jericho."
"I've never heard of it."
"I'm not surprised, it's a very small town."
She nodded. "So are you moving here or just traveling through?"
"Ah came up here t'visit someone," he told her.
They talked for a while and like most women, Jan happily told him almost every detail of her boring little life. She had no husband or boyfriend, which didn't surprise him in the least. She worked as a forklift operator in a shipping department, which also didn't surprise him. She still lived with her folks, but she longed to move out. That wasn't surprising either, but he doubted she'd move out any time soon. It was too easy for her to live at home, let her folks take care of her, and have her paycheck to spend on whatever she wanted.
He looked right into her eyes as she spoke as if every word she said fascinated him--in truth, he only heard the minimum. He didn't care about Janella, she was merely a tool, no, a distraction, here to serve a purpose for now, later to be discarded.
"You've been awful quiet," she finally said, after a particularly long monologue about her glory days back in High School. "Am I boring you?"
"Nope, not in the least," Victor lied, a shy smile curling his lips. "Ah've jess been enjoying hearing you talk. You've lead an' interesting life, Janella."
She blushed and grinned looking like a dopey kid. "You're too kind. Actually, I wish you'd talk a little more. I love your accent."
"Really now?" He looked at her, one brow raised. The place had been steadily filling up while they were talking and the noise level much louder. "Well, it's kinda hard t'hear anyone talk in this place."
"You're right," she agreed, taking the bait just as he knew she would. "Uh.. maybe we... Uh, could continue this conversation someplace... Uh, a little less... noisy?"
"Now that's an idea," Victor said slowly, as if thinking it over carefully. "But as Ah told ya, Ah'm a stranger in town and Ah don't know the area. You wouldn't happen to know of someplace quiet we can go to.. talk, would you?"
This was the crucial point, her answer would determine how this evening would go and he watched her closely to see what she would say. She drew in a deep breath, thinking, weighing everything in her mind then nodded slowly. "I-I think I know of a place. It's not too far and it's.. private."
"Well then..." He picked up his cigarette pack and put it into his pocket. "Shall we go then?"
She looked over towards her friends then back at him. "Yeah, let's go."
"No, Justine, your telegraphing your moves t'me. If you want the edge, you've got to be completely unpredictable."
Justine looked up at Logan from her position on the floor of the gym. Her hair clung to her face in sweat-soaked tendrils,. She wrapped her arms around her ribs, gulping the air. "Th-that's easy for you to say," she gasped. "You've been f-fighting a lot longer than I have."
"And so have most of the people you might come up against someday," Logan retorted, offering his hand to help her up. She accepted it gratefully as he pulled her up. "That kick to yer guts wasn't using an eighth of my strength. Most people ain't gonna be so kind and hold back."
She stood up, wincing a bit. "I'm not a fighter. I'm not an X-man," she pointed out. "I'll never even be a New Mutie. I'm just me."
"Yeah, but you're sticking around here. Maybe you ain't gonna be in the front lines, but we got a powerful bunch o' enemies." Logan looked at her; his eyes fixed on hers. "They ain't gonna cut you no slack just cause you ain't officially 'on the team."
Justine frowned. "I don't want to hurt anyone," she whispered softly.
"Tell me if you still feel that way when they're hurtin' you." Logan stated flatly. It was two days since Magnus announced training Justine to use her ability had stopped completely, but she would stay at the mansion. Logan stepped in and insisted to Magnus that if she was going to stay, she'd better at least learn the basics of self defense. Magnus saw the wisdom in this, but that didn't mean Justine did.
"Still beating up on the new recruits, Logan?" Someone called from the doorway.
Logan turned and looked at the tall, thin young man wearing red glasses and grinned. "Hey Summers, long time no see!" He looked at Justine, who was studying the newcomer carefully. "Justy, this is Scott Summers. He used to be the leader of our little group of misfits, but he left the group for domestic bliss." He looked back at Scott. "So how's Maddie and the kid?"
"They're doing fine," Scott walked over to the both of them. "I had to come to New York on some other business, so I thought I'd drop in for a visit." He looked at Justine, his head tipped to one side. "I don't believe we've met."
"No, we haven't." Justine said softly.
"Aw cut me some slack, etiquette's never been one o' my strong points." Logan frowned, but his eyes glittered faintly. "Scott Summers, this is Justine Miller. She's staying here for awhile. Probably going to end up becoming Mag's personal secretary or somethin'."
"Nice to meet you, " Justine said shyly. She still wasn't too sure of strangers.
"Nice to meet you too," Scott said, smiling warmly to her.
"Hey, are you stayin' a couple days?" Logan asked Scott.
Scott nodded. "I thought I would. I'd like the chance to say hi and catch up on what everyone has been up to."
"Good," Logan nodded. "One o' the nights you're here, we've gotta all go out to Harry's. Have a few beers, shoot some pool. Celebrate your visit."
"Are you sure you want to celebrate my visit?" Scott asked skeptically. "Or is my visit just a big excuse to party?"
Logan grinned. "You know me Summers, you figure it out."
Justine looked at the both of them, seeing her chance to escape this evening of torture. "Uh... Logan, since you and Mr. Summers haven't seen each other for awhile, why don't I leave you so you can talk? I should go work on my school work anyway. I-I'm suppose to take my GED test next week."
Logan nodded. "Sure kid. I don't want Mags accusing me of keepin' ya from the books. He'd never let me hear the end of that one." He reached out and ruffled her hair. "Ya did okay kid. I know I came down hard on ya, but considerin' you've had no training, you did good."
Justine smiled broadly at the praise, her face turning slightly red. She looked at Scott. "It- it was nice to meet you. I'm-I'm sure I'll see you around." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and scurried out of the gym.
"Nice meeting you too," Scott called after her. He watched her leave and turned to Logan. "A bit skittish, isn't she?"
Logan shrugged. "If you'd been through what she has, you'd be skittish too. Nobody here has filled you in on Justine, have they?"
Scott shook his head. "No, I only got here an hour ago. I was just making the rounds and saying hello."
Logan nodded. "Well, you'll find out one way or another I'm sure. Mags an' I found Justine in some little podunk town down south. She'd been locked in the basement for eleven years or so."
Scott's eyes widened. "You're kidding?'
"Summers, I don't kid about crap like that." Logan stated, his tone flat. "Her parents locked her up in there."
"Why?" Scott asked.
"Got time for the whole tale?" Logan asked, tipping his head to one side.
"I've got the time," Scott said.
"Now if ya only had the beer." Logan grinned. "Speaking of beer, let's go to the kitchen. I could use a cold one an' I'll fill ya in on the story if Justine Miller."
Run to the bedroom in the suitcase on your left
You'll find my favorite axe
Don't get so frightened this is just a passing phase
One of my bad days.
(Pink Floyd-- One Of My Turns)
There was a time in his life that Victor felt a certain kinship with water, but that was a long time ago. Later incidents in his life had turned him off to large bodies of water. It figured that the spot Janella chose to take him to, so they could be alone, was a lake.
"Pretty isn't it?" she asked him. They were sitting on a dock in front of a small house on the shore. Vacationing friends of hers owned the house. She didn't think they'd mind her coming out here, or so she'd explained to Victor. "I love watching the sun set across the water."
The sun set about two hours ago you dumb broad, Victor thought; looking down into the inky water. "Yeah, it's pretty out here," he lied. He felt a little safer, knowing Justine was less than fifty miles from him, but he wasn't going to push his luck either. Fortunately, the dock felt sturdy enough beneath them.
If Janella sensed his fear, she made no sign of it, and continued to talk happily. Her constant babbling didn't upset him. It was a faintly distracting hum, keeping him from thinking of all this... water surrounding them. He lit up a cigarette and studied her profile in the dim light from the moon. She's sort-of pretty, he guessed, but she's no.... "Get outa my head bitch!" He suddenly shouted.
"What?!" Janella turned and stared at him, surprised and shocked.
He swallowed, embarrassed and ashamed of himself. How dare he lose his cool like that. "Don't worry 'bout it," he muttered, embarrassed. "Ah was jess thinking 'bout someone Ah know. Someone who had kinda an impact on me."
"Uh yeah..." Jan said looking a bit nervous. "Not a very positive one either I'd guess."
Then you guess wrong, Victor thought, but he smiled and shrugged. "Depends on how you look at it." He held out his cigarette pack, wanting to change the subject. "Want one?"
"Oh... I shouldn't, but..." she grinned reaching out and taking one from the pack. Victor lit his lighter, holding the flame out to her. She leaned over to light her cigarette, took a deep drag and sighed happily. "You're going to think I'm crazy, but this whole night is like.. a fantasy."
"Ah don't think your crazy," Victor said softly, looking at her steadily. "Tell me more, why is this night like a fantasy?"
She avoided looking at him, looking down at the dock and the water instead. "Well, since I was a teenager, I've had this, Uh, re-occurring fantasy. Uhm, in it, I meet this guy... this total stranger, who's just passing through here, someone I'm likely to never meet again."
Gee, sorta like me, Victor thought. He smiled, trying to keep his sarcasm from dripping into his voice. "Oh really? An' tell me Janella, what happens with you an' this mystery man?"
She took a drag from her cigarette, the orange glow from the end lighting up her face for a moment. "We go to some place quiet and outdoors, like this place...
Why doesn't that surprise me either? Victor thought. He resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, even though it was dark enough she probably wouldn't have seen it. Instead, he kept his gaze steadily on her. "What happens then Janella?"
Hidden safely in the shadows of the night, and in the safety that he was a stranger and not likely to ever run into anyone she knew, Janella allowed herself to turn her head in the direction of his. He could feel her gaze upon him; he could almost feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. "We make love all night long," she finally told him, her voice wavering only slightly. "For that one perfect night we share body and soul... knowing we'll never meet again."
The huntress thinks she's fired the shot, Victor thought. Time to let her think it's made its mark... sort of. "Well, let me guess," he drawled slowly, each word lingering in the still night air. "You're thinkin' maybe Ah might play the part of the mystery man, that about right Janella?"
She paused for only a brief second, trying to figure out if he would laugh at her, or if he was just having a little bit of fun. "Well I wouldn't want you to do me any favors," she said softly. "You'd have to want to."
He shifted closer to her and reached out, running the backs of his fingers along her cheek. "Ah'd love to make your fantasy come true, Janella, but there is one small problem..."
"Which is?" her voice sounded breathless, almost afraid of his answer.
"Ah can't make love t'ya," he answered, being totally honest with her. Women weren't always bright, but when it came to sex they were nothing like men. You could try to fake them, but they always knew the truth about the man they were with and how he felt about them. They might try to fool themselves into believing something different; but deep down, they knew the truth. "Ah can fuck you, that's not a problem." His brief moment of honesty with her passed and he slid into another lie. "Ah wish Ah could make love to you Janella, but that isn't possible." The truth was he could never make love to this woman and he didn't want to either. She was so...beneath him.
"Wh, why not?" she asked.
The hesitation in her voice was a mixed signal to Victor. Does she want the truth or a lie? he wondered. He settled on the truth. "Ah belong t'someone else."
"You're married?" she asked.
"Yeah." Well, that was stretching things a bit. There hadn't been an official ceremony or anything, even though he'd asked her parents, but facts were facts, he belonged to Justine and she belonged to him. Whom else could they belong to? She owned a part of him. No other woman could compete with that.
"S.. so where is she?" Janella asked.
Victor shrugged. "It doesn't really matter where she is. Our relationship is open enough." Mostly because she's too fucking crazy to know what the hell is going on, he added in his thoughts. He looked at her. "So Janella, what's it gonna be? You wanna make part of the dream come true, or should we just call it quits right now." His voice flowed into the night calm and steady. It didn't matter to him one way or another what she wanted. He knew what he would get.
Janella fell silent, finishing her cigarette, obviously lost in thought. Finally, after several minutes she flicked the butt into the water where the ember hissed into non-existence. She turned her face towards him. "No... maybe we'd better forget it. I don't want to be the cause of a ruined marriage... my fantasies aren't worth it."
What a load of shit! Victor thought, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. This girl is so wound up in herself she can't even see straight. He reached out and took her hand, holding it gently in his own. "Ah understand an' Ah respect you for it. Can Ah ask for one favor though?"
"Wh-what's that?" she asked, her voice soft.
"A kiss," he said, his voice equally soft. "Just one kiss to remember you by.. to think about on those lonely nights and to dream about what might have been." Oh, that was good. Just the right touch of sentimental bullshit to keep her going.
"Oh Victor," She sounded like she might start crying any second. "How could I refuse that?" She moved closer to him, reaching for him.
You can't, he thought as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. He covered her lips with his, kissing her softly at first, then harder. She hugged him back tightly, pressing her body into his, kissing him back. He imagined he could see he soul beginning to flow through her body and to him it looked like light... grey light, moving, gathering from her entire body and pushing towards her mouth, where his lips were trying to draw it from her body. He pushed his tongue against her lips, urging them to part, which they did easily, allowing it to flow freely into him. He drew it from her body, slowly, savoring it. Picturing it gilding effortlessly from her to him.
She wasn't aware this was happening; they never were. Normally, he liked to wait until he was in the middle of sex before taking someone's soul, but it didn't really matter either way, it was just a sweet. He didn't think Justine minded how he got the soul, as long as he got it.
After a few minutes of kissing and soul drinking, Victor felt Janella begin shifting, trying to break away from him, probably to catch her breath. He moved his hands up to her shoulders, his thumb and index fingers resting along the front and back of her neck.
She managed to pull her head away. "Easy Vic," she whispered softly. "I'm trying to be a good girl here..."
"Don't worry Darlin'," he whispered back, letting his fingers slowly close around her throat. "You'll be good, you'll be very good." He kissed her again, tightening his fingers around her neck and began squeezing none too gently.
She fought him, trying to pull away, kick at him, claw at him, but it wasn't any good. Then she tried to suck her soul back into her body, but he knew that trick, he squeezed her neck tighter, still fighting to kiss her and keep her life-light up towards her mouth.
As he felt her neck snap under his fingers and her body go limp, he imagined he could see the last of her soul pushing out of her mouth into his. He drew it into himself and let go of Janella, watching as her body crumpled into a heap at his feet. He'd have to do something about that, too many people saw her at the bar with him, but that was for later. Right now he paused, letting her soul flow through his body, letting it mingle with the other's he'd collected since Justine left Jericho and sighed with contentment. He imagined how good it would feel when he fed these souls back to Justine, how powerful it would be. He had four of them now, never so many. When she'd been in the basement, he gave them to her shortly after gathering them so there had never been more than one.
His eyes closed and his body shook, imagining the feeling, the power of their next meeting, their next union. Four life forces inside him, to be given to her. She would feel the power and she would stay with him forever. His mistake before wasn't giving her enough of them. He'd been lazy. He'd never make that mistake again.
He looked out into the water, not afraid of it anymore. You tried to get me you bastard, he thought, but you couldn't. I have more power than you ever will. I have something you don't. I have someone who owns my soul, who protects it. What do you have? Nothing! You're just water!
He turned and knelt down on the dock, scooping up the dead girl who was once Janella into his arms. Tenderly, he reached out and placed his fingers over her eyelids, shutting them so they didn't stare up at him. He knew all about dead people's eyes. In the old days, they'd put pennies over them, so the dead wouldn't look at the living and try to take their souls. Victor knew a dead person couldn't take a living person's soul, but he didn't know if they could take their own back once Victor had taken it into holding. It was better not to take chances.
He ran his fingers over her face, feeling the chill of death already setting in. He couldn't see her features clearly in the moonlight, but he imagined her lips were turning blue. "Don't worry Janella," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her again on the lips tenderly. "You're not really dead. You're alive inside of me, and soon enough you'll be alive in Justine. You'll never die. You'll never be cold or alone either. We'll take care of you. Now your fantasy can come true. Now I can love you, and I do." There were times when he wished he could feel this same love and tenderness for his victims before he killed them, but try as he might, he couldn't. Only by taking away their soul, by killing the shell that surrounded the life-force could he completely understand who they were. He no longer hated or felt sorry for Janella; she'd become special, almost perfect.
Now all that remained was to find a way to get rid of the shell.