Chapter Three
"Their Only Secret"
* * *
The back door of the bar opened and Jack spilled out into it, rather drunk. His idea of staying sober seemed ridiculous after Lucy began to explain to him just exactly who, and what, he was.
"So, you know God. Like, actually know him?" Jack asked, his foot catching on a crack in the road and sending him tumbling for the ground. The brute who had brought him all the beer shot an arm out and caught Jack by the back of the coat, keeping his nose from hitting the ground. "That's cool..." he muttered, a drunken smiling crossing his lips. The brute let him slip and his shoulder cracked the ground with a wet slap.
He giggled and rolled over.
"Darius, do you mind walking Mr. Tahn back to his apartment?" Lucy asked, watching as Jack convulsed with small giggles into the wet pavement.
"I'm not an idiot, I can walk back myself." Jack replied quickly, pushing his palms against the ground and levering himself onto his knees.
"Yes," Lucy replied, clasping his hands in front of his leather coat. "I can see that by just how sober you are." he finished sarcastically. Darius rolled his eyes and went to take Jack by the arm, but Jack jerked suddenly away.
"Get off!" he spat sharply, standing on wobbly legs and tripping back a few steps. "I don't wan' to see you ever again." he slurred, pointing a finger at what he hoped was Lucy.
"I'm afraid that's impossible." Lucy replied smoothly, watching Jack squint toward him and shake his head.
"You don't--don't own me." he said, clutching his head slightly. "I--I need another beer." he whispered, taking a few steps toward the mouth of the alley.
"Mr. Tahn?" Lucy asked, making Jack turn slightly back to face the blurry figure. Lucy stepped forward and quickly held his palm out. Jack squinted at it and took a cautious step toward Lucy.
"Wha's that?" he asked, blinking at the shiny object in the man's hand.
"Something Diana gave to me a long time ago." he whispered, low enough that Darius couldn't hear him. Jack shook his head and pointed to the object.
"No." he said simply, his breath hitching in his chest.
"You two were forever. Here's your proof."
"No!" Jack screamed, attempting to make his legs move, but only succeeding in falling back against the alley wall. "I don't wan' any more tricks. 'M done!"
"You pray for the truth every night. You pray to know the Lord and you wish day after day that she will come back," Lucy stalked him, taking the disk and pressing it close to Jack's face. Jack gasped and tried to press his head back into the cold brick. "You can know the truth."
"She's dead." he whispered softly, as if they burned his tongue.
"No, she isn't Jack. Take it," Lucy said softly, putting the disk in Jack's hand and closing his fingers around it. "This is the truth, Jack. It's what you pray for."
Even though he was drunk, he could plainly see the object in his hand. It was a compact disk with dark, scrawling words written on it's surface. He looked down and rubbed his thumb over the ink letters, holding back a sob when he read the words.
He looked up through cloudy eyes to question Lucy, but the only thing that filled his vision was a dark and empty alley. Jack sighed, closed his eyes and let out a small sob. He rested his head back against the cold bricks and looked at the CD again. The words were only known by two people. Jack hadn't written it in years and the only other person who knew it, was dead.
Yet there it was. In her handwriting. In her gothic, loopy penmanship was their only secret...
"To my little Angel, from his wing feathers."
* * *
The back door of the bar opened and Jack spilled out into it, rather drunk. His idea of staying sober seemed ridiculous after Lucy began to explain to him just exactly who, and what, he was.
"So, you know God. Like, actually know him?" Jack asked, his foot catching on a crack in the road and sending him tumbling for the ground. The brute who had brought him all the beer shot an arm out and caught Jack by the back of the coat, keeping his nose from hitting the ground. "That's cool..." he muttered, a drunken smiling crossing his lips. The brute let him slip and his shoulder cracked the ground with a wet slap.
He giggled and rolled over.
"Darius, do you mind walking Mr. Tahn back to his apartment?" Lucy asked, watching as Jack convulsed with small giggles into the wet pavement.
"I'm not an idiot, I can walk back myself." Jack replied quickly, pushing his palms against the ground and levering himself onto his knees.
"Yes," Lucy replied, clasping his hands in front of his leather coat. "I can see that by just how sober you are." he finished sarcastically. Darius rolled his eyes and went to take Jack by the arm, but Jack jerked suddenly away.
"Get off!" he spat sharply, standing on wobbly legs and tripping back a few steps. "I don't wan' to see you ever again." he slurred, pointing a finger at what he hoped was Lucy.
"I'm afraid that's impossible." Lucy replied smoothly, watching Jack squint toward him and shake his head.
"You don't--don't own me." he said, clutching his head slightly. "I--I need another beer." he whispered, taking a few steps toward the mouth of the alley.
"Mr. Tahn?" Lucy asked, making Jack turn slightly back to face the blurry figure. Lucy stepped forward and quickly held his palm out. Jack squinted at it and took a cautious step toward Lucy.
"Wha's that?" he asked, blinking at the shiny object in the man's hand.
"Something Diana gave to me a long time ago." he whispered, low enough that Darius couldn't hear him. Jack shook his head and pointed to the object.
"No." he said simply, his breath hitching in his chest.
"You two were forever. Here's your proof."
"No!" Jack screamed, attempting to make his legs move, but only succeeding in falling back against the alley wall. "I don't wan' any more tricks. 'M done!"
"You pray for the truth every night. You pray to know the Lord and you wish day after day that she will come back," Lucy stalked him, taking the disk and pressing it close to Jack's face. Jack gasped and tried to press his head back into the cold brick. "You can know the truth."
"She's dead." he whispered softly, as if they burned his tongue.
"No, she isn't Jack. Take it," Lucy said softly, putting the disk in Jack's hand and closing his fingers around it. "This is the truth, Jack. It's what you pray for."
Even though he was drunk, he could plainly see the object in his hand. It was a compact disk with dark, scrawling words written on it's surface. He looked down and rubbed his thumb over the ink letters, holding back a sob when he read the words.
He looked up through cloudy eyes to question Lucy, but the only thing that filled his vision was a dark and empty alley. Jack sighed, closed his eyes and let out a small sob. He rested his head back against the cold bricks and looked at the CD again. The words were only known by two people. Jack hadn't written it in years and the only other person who knew it, was dead.
Yet there it was. In her handwriting. In her gothic, loopy penmanship was their only secret...
"To my little Angel, from his wing feathers."