Watching

I watched her walk up, breathing deeply, her bangs plastered to her forehead with sweat. I watched her draw close and snake out her muscled arm to grab the stool nearest me and pull it closer, her eyes locked with mine. I watched her sit down, still staring at me, looking away only to order a screwdriver from the bartender nearby. I watched her, watched her eyes, her lips, the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders, the very slight movement of her chest. I watched her as she stared questioningly at my face until I broke the silence.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

She raised an eyebrow and took another sip of her drink. “I remember seeing you yesterday night outside of Shadows. And the day before that as I was walking home. Oh, and the day before that… and I’m pretty sure I remember seeing you Monday morning at the laundromat…”

I shook my head. “You don’t remember me.”

She looked down for a moment, thinking and running her tongue over a scar on her lip that I knew was there. Then she shrugged and said, “The person who might have remembered you is probably dead.”

I looked down then also, at the jagged red scars following the veins on her forearm. “I know.”

“Then why are you following me?”

“Because you… you remind me, of someone I once knew.”

“Oh really?” she asked, turning away from me to lean back against the bar, her elbows resting on it as she watched the dance floor.

“Yes.” I said huskily, trying to re-find the voice she had loved so much, when she had lived in my house and slept in my bed and we had fallen asleep entwined together against our night-time demons. I failed, as had we.

Neither of us spoke for a second, I staring into my own glass of rum and she watching the frantically gyrating dancers. I reached out without looking to run a single finger over the thick scar on her right wrist. She shuddered and turned to look at me with an expression of lust so unlike my Deb that the tears almost came back. “When was the last time you died?”

“You know me that well and have been watching this much and you don’t know that?” She raised her eyebrow again, amused.

“I just found you again a couple of weeks ago.”

“But I’ve only been alive a few weeks…”

I nod and take a long sip from my glass. “Here.” She said, offering me the stainless steel flask that had been resting on her left hip.

“You’re offering me your own alcohol, at a bar?” I laugh at the familiar sight of the omnipresent hip flask.

She laughs along with me, rolls her eyes and shrugs. “They don’t mind. They actually supply it to me.”

I shrug myself and tilt the flask up to my lip, take a small sip and barely manage to get it down. “That’s some fucking strong stuff. What is it, rubbing alcohol?”

She laughs again at the look on my face. “No it’s just…” She winks at me. “… the good stuff.”

“Uh huh.” I hand the flask back to her and she makes one rehearsed movement to cap it and put it back on her belt.

“So… you wanna actually see the inside of my apartment tonight, rather than just skulking about the door?”

I looked up sharply, confused by the surprise reminder of who this was and wasn’t. My eyes dropped down a bit as I realized and vocalized that my answer was “Yes.” I felt her fingers under my chin and didn’t resist as she tilted my face up to look into hers. Her face had a sardonic smile on it, and I returned it, willing myself to forget that my Deb would have died before saying something like that. And that she had.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure. Nothing keeping me here.”

“I noticed.” She rolled her eyes and started walking towards the door. I rolled my own eyes at her back, and followed her out.

I walked behind her, watching her again, all the way back to her apartment. She even walked differently now, though, to be fair, it had been years… I stumbled at one point, thinking too much about her and Deb and not about where I was walking, but managed to keep my feet, and shrug off her inquiry.

When we get to the landing of her apartment, I lean against the wall next to her door. She looks at me and we both begin to laugh, for no apparent reason, as she hands me her left flask and begins a search of all her pockets and pouches for her door key. “Just like old times, eh?” I ask as I take a long sip from the flask.

“There are no old times when the world is reborn every month.” I swallowed another sip quickly to keep from choking, laughter gone until I look up at her face, watching me take my support from the wall behind me and grinning.

She finally finds the key and unlocks the door, opening it and holding it open as she swept into a bow saying “After you milady.” I sweep into the apartment mock-gracefully, handing her the flask as I pass. Once in, I turn to see an appreciating look on her face as she drinks half of the remaining two thirds in the flask in a single drag. “You have a nice ass.” She commented off-hand as she slowly slid the shining silver bottle back in to it hip sling.

“Oh really?” I stood in the middle of the room, hands on my hips, turning to watch her walk across the room to what was apparently the kitchen.

She popped her head out the door as I heard water running and the sound of her hands being run under it. “Yeah. With those pants.”

“Well then.” I say, mock-insulted. “Some people say I have a nice one without the pants.” She doesn’t respond for a moment and I turn around to look at her place. It was cluttered, books spilling from her end-tables and stacked in piles in the corner. A TV was in front of the couch, with a VCR leaned up against in haphazardly. There was a clock on both sides of the room, one on top of the TV, the other hanging on the wall behind the couch.

“We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” I jumped as I felt arms encircling my waist.

“See about what?” I turned slightly to look out of the corner of my eye at the head resting on my shoulder.

“Your ass without the pants, silly.” She laughed at my jumpiness.

“Oh. Right. That.” I smiled sheepishly, then shuddered as she ran her fingers under the waist of my pants. I turned towards her, still encircled by her arms, then walked with her in the direction she had indicated with her head.

In bed that night was ironically the closest this woman had come to my Deb, gentle and slow, but taking the lead which had surprised me more in my Deb than it did then. And afterwards I just laid myself in her arms and she stroked my hair.

Just before I fell asleep, she asked softly “I never actually got your name.”

I opened my eyes and chuckled slightly. “No, I guess not. Cassandra. And you’re Sam…”

“Uh huh. That’s a nice name.” She was quiet again, until I had almost fallen asleep again. “You knew me before I died, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” I spoke, quietly, not lifting my head from her chest.

“You knew the first me in this body?”

“I knew her, yes.”

“But she wasn’t the one who was your lover?” I sat up a bit with that, to look her in the face, and raised an eyebrow. She smiled at me. “You know this body. The way a lover would. Was it the first one who was your lover?”

I smiled, being recalled of Deb’s fascination for Sherlock Holmes. “Elementary, is it? No, she wasn’t. I think you ‘died’ twice before you ever asked me out.” I propped myself up on one elbow and brought my other hand up to rub my thumb over her cheekbone. “I never asked you. Why do you call it ‘death’ anyway? You never allow yourself to die, you just go to the edge of death and come back.” I move my hand down to rub a finger over her wrist scars again.

“I don’t allow this body to die. But my self dies, when I do that.” She moved her hand away from mine to mirror my caress of her cheek. With a mischievous smile, she added, “It is a little death, at the very least.”

I roll my eyes at her and lay my head back down, allowing her arm to find its way down to my waist and we lay together until her west-facing windows were flooded with light.

When I woke up, she had been awake for awhile and staring out the window. I winced away from the light, but not into her arms, remembering what had gone on last night. “De – Sam, I – “

She seemed to ignore the fact that I had begun to say something, just noting that I had woken up. “You know, Cassandra, it’s been awhile since I’ve had someone consistent to come home with.” I stopped talking and just looked at her. She continued staring out the window. “Girls don’t like living with someone who dies every month, and may not need someone like them the next time they live.” I started to say something then stopped, but scooted back over to curl up around her again.

“I could live with that.” She looked down at me and smiled.

“Can you now? We’ll see.” She reached her arms around me, chuckling maliciously as she found the spot on my side where I was ticklish, ending up straddling me as I curled into a ball to avoid her fingers. She kissed me gently on the forehead. “We’ll see.”