Song For The Forsaken
She is suddenly there before him, an apparition from nowhere, and yet he's expected her since he woke this morning. There was something in the way the sun broke through the cell's tiny window - something foreboding. Or maybe it was that bird that called from outside, an unfamiliar cry from a strange bird, a song for the forsaken.
He doesn't believe in omens, but everything happens for a reason which is why his revenging angel is standing outside the cell in crisp linen and Clinique make-up. Funny how it isn't weird to see her here. Funny how she doesn't look out of place when she so obviously is.
Funny how these things work out. You kill me, I kill you. They'll be even when they're dead.
They fly First Class back to the states. He thinks he should be confused by this - this instant switch from prison cell to champagne and heated towels - but he's forgotten normal life now and, if asked, he'll argue it never existed.
The blonde next to him looks significantly better when she's not carrying an alien virus. Her mood hasn't improved, though. She tells him to drink water and the stewardess brings Evian. "You need to replenish your fluids," she says and he does what he is told.
He thinks he should ask her where they're going but he knows her well enough to know she's waiting for the right moment - probably some time after the meal. She insists on nutrition first, his well being. He still doesn't know what it means.
She orders the fish and the fillet mignon for him. She refuses wine and requests two glasses of Perrier. "Electrolytes," she tells him. He would have liked wine.
Eventually, after coffee, she turns to him. "Aren't you wondering why I came to get you?"
He gives a short laugh. "Do you think I care?"
"No," she says. "I suppose not. Although I would think you'd be concerned. You did leave me to die in that place."
And she put him in a jail in Tunisia. It's his turn but they don't play that kind of game. He shrugs, feigns nonchalance. It probably annoys her.
He's not so arrogant to think she'd come all this way for revenge - or for anything personal. She needs him. Someone needs him. They have always been utilities.
If he affects her at all she doesn't show it. "Everything's changing," she says and her eyes are on the sky outside.
"Things are always changing."
"This is different - this is... "
He waits for her to finish but she doesn't, just continues to stare out the window. For a while he follows her look, expecting to see whatever she sees, but he gives up shortly and goes back to his Perrier.
He thinks, he would really have liked wine.
They don't have luggage so they walk straight from customs to their driver. He gives her an informal salute by way of recognition and they follow him outside, to a black Mercedes. She gets in before him.
He hesitates before getting in. He looks at the sky, feeling the breeze against his eyelashes. It's so mild here. You'd think nothing could happen in such calm conditions.
She looks out at him, expectantly. "Get in," she says.
He doesn't. "I know why you came for me," he says.
"Why?"
"There was no one else - was there?"
She frowns. "We have other operatives."
"That's not what I meant." She doesn't need minions. She doesn't needs allies. She needs him. Not someone she trusts, but someone she knows.
She looks nervously at the driver and then back at Alex. She lifts her shoulders a little. "What do you want me to say, Alex?"
He thinks about this. Nothing, nothing at all. He just wants it to be understood - you and me, baby, everything we have.
He climbs into the back seat, next to her. "Just remember," he says. "Remember that."
The car pulls away from the kerb and they drive off in silence.