Sarah had been watching him for some time now, but this was the first time she'd actually worked up the courage to go and talk to him. He would come in every day at the same time and take the same seat, but wouldn't order anything; he would simply sit and stare out the window for a few hours, then would get up and leave. He never said a word to anyone.
He'd been sitting there for a while already, so she had to make her move soon before he left.
"May I sit here?" She smiled at him, hoping to get a smile in return. He looked at her.
"Go ahead."
She sat down, smiling more broadly at the fact she had gotten him to speak. Now she would engage him in conversation and discover what the deal with him was. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anything remarkable about him that she could strike up conversation about.
That was, until she noticed his wrists.
"Interesting scars you got there," she said, reaching forward to tap the table next to his hand. He jerked as if she'd startled him, then turned to look at her.
Pulling down his sunglasses so he could look at her over the top, he leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "And how are they interesting?"
She blinked and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Well, at least he was talking to her. "Well, it's just interesting that you don't cover them up or anything."
"Why would I cover them up? I'm not ashamed of them."
"Well, cutters--"
He cut her off midsentence. "Kindly do not associate me with their ilk. I am not a cutter, nor are these marks those of failed suicide attempts. Their story is much more interesting."
"Then how'd you get them?"
He smiled. It was a pleasant enough smile, she supposed, but there was something of a smirk about it--smug about knowing something she didn't. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Same time, same place." He shoved his sunglasses back into place and got up, then was gone.
There was something mysterious about him; it was like something on TV, almost. One of those heartwarming stories about people overcoming their dark pasts to fall in love again. Those movies usually always made her cringe and change the channel, but there were a few she could stand. So she returned the next day, hoping to get the entire story in the time he would be there; but he didn't get there at the usual time. She had been waiting at his table for an hour and was about to leave when he walked through the door and took his spot.
"You're late," she said, crossing her arms.
"You're early. Where was I?"
"Your scars."
He leaned back. "Right. Of course. How did I get them, was it?" She nodded. "I was captured by an organization whose leader holds a grudge against the government."
"Anarchists?" He certainly knew how to get her attention. Sure, it would probably be a fantastic tale filled with lies, but Sarah had nothing better to do.
He waggled his hands in the 'sorta' motion. "Of a sort, I suppose. But that's not why they captured me."
"And why did they capture you?"
"That's for tomorrow. Get here on time and I'll tell you more than a few lines." And he was gone.
She showed up a half an hour early this time, and he was already waiting for her.
"Now you're the one who's early," she said, smiling.
"No, you're the one who's late. But I'll tell you anyways, since it's a good day."
"Good?" She took off her jacket and sat down. "It's windy and cloudy out there." She peered at him. "Hey, you're not wearing your sunglasses." She stared at him. Without the sunglasses, he looked fairly normal--and rather attractive.
"You're right, I'm not. That's why it's a good day." He sighed. "The light hurts my eyes still. You see, when they captured me, they kept me in a white room all the time, with the lights on all the time."
She grimaced. Not that it was a nasty thought or anything, just that she wanted to convey sympathy without using words. It seemed to get the point across anyway, because he nodded and bit his lip.
"I'm sorry, I don't seem to have answered your question from yesterday. I hope you'll forgive me for that."
"Let me guess, you'll answer it tomorrow?"
He shook his head. "Nah. It's a good day. Why did they capture me? Because I stood against them. I was a member of their organization--a puppet--" he spat out the word, "unable to fulfill my own mission because they tied me down to thiers. I'm thinking of suing, you know, for cruel and unusual punishment and a lack of the writ of habius corpus. But it would never go to court."
She blinked. He certainly had an interesting train of thought. "Mission?"
"Yeah." He smiled and stared at the table. They sat in silence for a moment before he got up. "And that's for tomorrow."
"Wait! What's your name?"
He paused and glanced at her, still smiling. "There are those who call me...Tim."
"Tim." She nodded, more to herself than to him, and when she looked again he had left.
Before she could get up, someone else sat down at the table. They were very pretty for a girl, if a little flat-chested.
"Excuse me..."
She did a double-take. They didn't really sound like a girl..."Yes?"
"Who were you just talking to?"
She shrugged. "Just an acquaintance. Why?"
They blinked, then bit their lip and looked down at the table. "I'm his best friend. I can't talk to him, so I was hoping you could give him this." She was handed a sealed, unstamped letter, which she turned over in her hands. All that was written on it by way of identification was "To the Lost", a phrase that she assumed was some kind of code.
"Oh...kay...I'll try. Why can't you give it to him yourself?"
They looked down and smoothed their skirt. "My older brother wouldn't like it if we were spotted together."
Sarah nodded and smiled knowingly. "Protective, huh?" She imagined a pair of star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet, only less tragic because it was obvious neither was dead. Tim's scars probably were old suicide attempts if she followed that logic.
A low laugh. "Overly." A pause, then Sarah extended her hand across the table.
"I'm Sarah."
"Elijah."
"You're a guy!?" She barely just kept her voice down; the costume was so convincing! No wonder they didn't sound right!
Eli laughed, looking almost ashamed. "Yeah. It's the skirt, isn't it? I'm sorry--I've been wearing girl's clothes more and more often lately..."
She freaked. "Well, normally I think guys in girls clothing look kinda weird, but you really pull it off--I mean, I thought you were a real girl for a moment there--you look really nice. You really do."
He smiled and looked at her levelly. "Thanks, I guess. Just get that letter to him, please."
She nodded. "I'll do my best." This time she was the one to get up and leave.
*
It was still cloudy the next day. When she sat down, the first thing Sarah did was hand the envelope to Tim. He stared at the writing.
"Only when we are lost can we be found," he mumbled, glancing out the window. "These paths of embers do not allow for footsteps."
"What?"
He smiled vaguely, but not at her, and tucked the letter in a pocket. "This is something best saved for a sunny day. For now, I have a tale for you, don't I?"
"Today's chapter: what is your mission," she said, waving her hands around mockingly. He nodded, apparently not taking the joke.
"My mission...my Reunion." Turning back to her, he leaned forward and said with all seriousness, "I am to obliterate humanity."
She blinked. His story had taken a surreal step backwards from paranoically amusing to outright insane. He didn't seem to notice her shock, but continued speaking, rubbing his wrists gently.
"We are a diseased species, a Medusatic parasite that kills all beings it sets its sights upon. From grass to stone, life to death, taking more than is given...I am to exterminate them all, following in the footsteps of those before--wiping the earth clean of our ilk in order to rescue our mother planet from her monstrous brood."
She stared openly now. Either he was an amazingly good storyteller or he had escaped from a mental asylum. What if he was a serial killer? "But--you're human, aren't you?"
"Yes." He sighed. "Such a shameful existance, to be one of the ooze and the muck, unable to rise above to a greater calling. Or perhaps to sink below." He sat up straight and crossed his arms. "I have seen the angels of a twisted god, and discovered that he is a merciless being to merciful purposes."
She glanced at her wrist, hoping to make up an excuse to get away, when he sighed again.
"That's why they locked me up. But they had--have--nothing to fear. I won't do anything so long as my promise remains intact."
"You--your promise?"
"Glad to see I'm not losing you. That's for tomorrow." He got up and left. She remained where she was. She did want to know more--he left at the most interesting parts, and she could never stand having a question remain unanswered; but he was revealing himself to be odder than she could ever have previously imagined.
Biting her lip, she dug around in her pocket. It should be here--ah! There it was. She pulled out her lucky half-dollar and stared at the face on the coin. "Heads I keep coming and listening, tails I stop coming and try to avoid him." Closing her eyes, she kissed the coin and flipped it up in the air.
*
He was reading the letter when she got there. It was slightly cloudy still, so she assumed it wasn't a first reading. Biting her lip, Sarah slid into her usual seat and waited for him to finish.
"You're like a monkey." He didn't look away from the paper.
"What?"
"You're in a tree overhanging my chosen path. You'll talk to me, but you won't join me because you've got a path of your own. Or maybe we're simply meeting as a crossroads." Now he looked at her, folding up the letter and putting it back in the envelope, which he put in his pocket. "That would be more likely if not for the fact that I don't believe it is. So you're a monkey." Folding his hands, he said, "My promise is Elijah. You've met him. He is my proof that good people exist on this planet, and so long as he remains alive I shall never harm a human soul."
She blinked. "Then why did they lock you up? You can't hold someone for thinking murderous thoughts."
He nodded. "Thinkpol. But it was more that I was a danger to them, I think. I knew things about them and their leader that they couldn't afford someone to know if they weren't fighting alongside them. I stood against them and they couldn't let me do that."
"You're right. We can't."
Sarah looked up in surprise, but Tim didn't move.
"Hello Jason. I'm surprised it took you this long to find me."
"Shut up." Jason tapped his fingers on his cast--his right arm was broken, from what she could see. She wondered if it had something to do with Tim--he could be truly insane, but she doubted that now. Unless this man was playing along, Tim had to be telling the truth.
"I can't be affected by you anymore, Jason." Tim turned to face the older man, crossing his arms defiantly. "Didn't you learn that before? I don't want to be involved in your civil war!"
"I'm not going to try and get you in it anymore." Jason looked at Sarah, who stared back with wide eyes. Who was in the right? She was so used to her daydreams sorting everything out as good and bad, but she didn't know what to think now. "How much does she know?"
Tim shrugged. Jason scowled. Sarah attempted a smile and tried to get up. "I really should be going, since it appears you guys--"
She was grabbed by Jason's blonde companion. "Sorry, but I'm afraid you have to stay here until this is all sorted out."
Sarah didn't so much sit down again as collapse into the seat as her knees gave out. Oh God. They were going to take both her and Tim and lock them up because she knew too much. She didn't want to go to prison! What would everyone say if she just vanished? Her hands went to her mouth, eyes tearing up.
Tim rolled his eyes. Silly girl--he had known she wouldn't be able to take it, but he found no pleasure in seeing her cry. "Oh stop it."
"How much did you tell her, Tim?"
"Why are you even asking? We both know what will happen to her; it doesn't matter if she knows about your precious organization or not." Glancing at Sarah, he rose to his feet and faced the older man, reaching into a pocket and pulling out his sunglasses. "What have I done, Jason? Seriously. Look at me and tell me what I have done since I escaped."
"You escaped. You killed two people--"
A bitter laugh. It was probably this that jerked Sarah from her self-absorbed fit of anxiety, and she stared at the man with wide fearful eyes. He was a murderer--he was a bad person! Why were they keeping her here?
"I didn't kill anyone. They died in a car crash, from what I hear."
Jason stopped. He seemed offended, but she couldn't figure out why. Glancing up at the blonde man, she grabbed his sleeve. "Please..."
He ignored her, watching his dark-haired companion.
"That's just it. I haven't done anything. You, on the other hand..." He waved his glasses in front of the other man's eyes. "I'm going light-blind because of you. I'm scarred for life, both physically and mentally. My life is ruined because of you."
Jason opened his mouth to say something, but Tim wasn't finished yet. "You can just shut up. For once try and listen to others instead of having them listen to you."
Sarah shrank into her seat and whimpered when she saw Jason pull out a gun and aim it at Tim. He stared at it scathingly. "Are you going to kill me, Jason?"
Jason said nothing. Sarah started to cry, a stifled sniffing and gasping; Tim's eyes flickered in her direction, but he didn't move. "Face it, kissass, I've done nothing!"
"Shut up!" Jason roared, shoving the weapon against his opponents' forehead. "You've done enough. Keth, get someone to take that girl away."
Tim took a step backwards and fell into his seat. Jason kept the weapon trained on him. "I don't want to kill you, but I will if I must."
"Didn't want to dirty your hands until now, is that it?"
"Interesting last words." The gunshot ripped through the air. Sarah jumped and screamed, collapsing to the floor in an uncontrollable fit of weeping, eyes shut and fingers wrapped around the leg of the chair as if it would somehow save her from what had just happened. Someone had been killed. She was--oh God--was she going to be killed next?
Jason handed the gun to Keth, composure regained. "******** godmoder."
"I'm a non-playable character in your game. You can't attack me." Tim was pressed against the window, visibly shaken, but none worse for wear. Jason lunged forward and whacked him with his cast--Keth winced at the dull crack as Tim's head slammed into the window.
The room was silent except for Sarah's untamed sobbing. Jason stood with cast raised, awaiting a counterattack.
Tim slid down the window a bit, vision sliding about. He hadn't thought of blocking against physical contact attacks. Could it even be done? "God...dammit."
Jason didn't say anything, merely scowled and lowered his arm. "Keth, get Nicola to wipe the girl's memories."
Tim tried to stand up, swaying as he leaned forward; he flopped forward onto the table, closing his eyes in an attempt to ward off the dizziness. He knew Jason was right there. He realized that he would be recaptured for all his running--futile motions in the eyes of a sick deity.
Jason waited for Tim to rise, and when he didn't Jason moved forward and pulled out a pair of handcuffs he had taken to carrying around with him, just in case this opportunity arose. Tim didn't fight back when the older man cuffed his hands together. Jason frowned.
"This isn't like him at all."
Keth glanced up from where he was trying to pry Sarah from the chair. "Aren't you glad he's not fighting back?"
"Slightly."
Keth shrugged, finally resolving to pick up the girl chair and all if he had to. Thankfully, she let go when he grabbed her around the waist. "He's got a point, you know. About not doing anything."
"Shut up."
He didn't want to go back to Hell. Purgatory. That singular point in the universe that was a black hole of the mind, an endless white abyss.
"I know you can hear me, Tim."
But where was the handbasket?
"You don't want to go back there, do you."
Sin in Heaven...
"I have an offer, if you're willing to take it."
Redemption in Hell...
