a return
A moment of epiphany. She bade her last client good evening at the door, turning just in time to see Sir Harold coming toward her, a smile on his face. He held out a bag to her, and with a jolt she realized it contained her personal possessions, accumulated during her time in Ukiyo. What was this about...? She gave him a questioning look.
"You've paid your debt, Shoshanna," the kind old man informed her. "You're free, though it will be a shame to see you go." Her eyes widened, breath catching in her throat. Could it really be? She accepted the little bag from him, blood pounding in her head, fire in her veins. Free, she was really free
She managed to swallow, ease the sudden dryness in her throat. "H-how do I go back?"
The old man chuckled. "Hold out your wrist." She obliged him, baring the black flower tattoo, the bane of everyone's existence here in Ukiyo. He supported her wrist from beneath with one steadying hand, and very gently pressed his palm to the tattoo with the other. She felt a rush, tingles spreading outward from her wrist, and then a blinding white flash. As she felt herself moving, air rushing past her, her only regret was that she had been unable to say goodbye to John, sweet John.
And then, just like that, she was back. Back in the projection room of the cinema, low flickering light and the sounds of gunshots coming from the speakers. The film. The premiere. Nazi Night. She was on the floor, breathing heavily, sweat beading her brow. Alive. Whole. Her left wrist was unblemished. Shoshanna scrambled to her feet, eyes wide, throat choked with emotion. It was as if no time at all had passed. She looked down at the audience through the little window; everything was as before. The Nazi swine below watched the film, clapping as the heroic young private onscreen slaughtered scores of Italians.
She glanced down; she was dressed not in the 18th-century finery of Youfuu house, but in the expensive red dress she had been told was burned upon her arrival in Ukiyo. Shoshanna's head spun. Had it been real? Was she hallucinating the events of the past two years? A hand reached for her collarbone, and met with the delicate chain of the necklace she had been given by John Watson, what seemed like forever ago. It was real. It was all real. And now it was over.
At the thought of John, guilt surged through her heart, for now she was back in Paris, and the man she loved was waiting behind the silver screen to die for her cause. She felt torn; it was not easy to chose whom to love, and she didn't even think it was necessary to do so; after all, she fully intended on dying this evening. She would go down with her ship. She could die with love in her heart for two men.
Blinking tears from her eyes, Shoshanna realized that the bell was tinkling; it was time to change to the fourth and final reel of the film. The one with her film on it. A shudder of unrepressed excitement ran down her spine. She hadn't missed her chance; these bastards would die tonight. Deftly, despite her finery, Shoshanna changed the reel over and pulled down the lever to switch to the second projector. It went without a hitch, and now she had done all she could.
A knock at the door made her jump.