For Lack


Josefina and Maria written by Gwyneth
Joe Black written by Nexan


[Continued from Aftermath and Battle Lines]

Maria wakes some hours later, slowly blinking to wakefulness tangled in Burkett's bedding. Yawning, she crawls out from the little nest she instinctively makes whenever she sleeps in a bed, and then stares down at the disarray left behind. Thoughtfully, she piles all the blankets at the headboard, as she isn't really sure how to make it. A ghost of a smile drifts across her face as she imagines Burkett's face when he comes back.

If he comes back.

//But,// she thinks to herself, //He has to come back! All his stuff is here.// She strips herself of her dirty clothes as she pads across the now chill bedroom floor, leaving them scattered throughout the room. She finds the utilitarian basket Burkett uses for his laundry and digs through it unconcernedly, finally pulling forth a well-worn shirt. She pulls it over her head, sniffing along the collar before rolling up the sleeves. It hangs limply against her upper thighs, just barely decent, but then, that's not why she put it on.

She continues to hold the fabric to her nose as she heads towards the living room. She snags her duffel bag, left habitually by the fireplace, and sits down on the floor to dig through it. Teasing forth a smaller plastic ziploc bag, she opens it, pulling a small handful of fragrant green leaves from it. She pops them into her mouth and chews thoughtfully before grabbing a larger handful then replacing the bag.

//Burkett's going to be really mad,// she thinks again, remembering the mess she left in the bedroom, but the younger part of her simply snorts and is pleased. Still chewing she heads to the kitchen to rummage through the cupboards for something more substantial to eat, hoping to avoid thinking very deeply about why Burkett was gone.

Joe raps lightly on the door, knowing that it won't take much for Maria to hear and not wanting to wake her if she happens to be asleep. (Actually, given the duty he's here to perform, he'd really rather that she _were_ sleeping. But he can already tell that she isn't.)

"Maria?" he calls. "It's Joe and Josephina. We need to have a talk. About Burkett." He glances at the Blackbird beside him, as if expecting the very name to set off one of her explosive rages.

The Blackbird, however, merely glowers, as the coyote girl opens the door, peering out at the two of them. Maria is still chewing, and she opens the door to let the two in. The Blackbird leads the way, her boots hitting the floor rather more heavily than normal, and Maria regards her with curiosity before looking back at Joe.

"Si?" she asks, again eyeing the Blackbird as she is handed the letter. "Ah, but I cannot read," she frowns.

"I'll read it," Josefina offers, then frowns. "Maria, who's shirt is that?"

"Burkett's," Maria replies, bringing the letter up to her face and running the paper along her lower lip almost unconsciously.

"Why are you wearing-" the Blackbird begins, scowling, but is quickly cut off by the younger woman.

"Because I want to." She holds out the folded papers, and surprisingly, the Blackbird takes the hint, opening them up and clearing her throat to read.

"Estimada Maria,

Having given myself time to reflect upon our last meeting, I regret the manner in which I have treated you. I offer you my humblest apologies and hope that you will someday come to overlook my many faults and failings.

I must go away. I do not know when, or even if, I shall return. Know that this is not because of you, nor because of anything you have said or done. I have business which I have left unfinished for far too long. Before I can give any sort of honest consideration to your kind and generous offer, I must deal with the issues from my past. Only then will I know who I am and what I can offer you in return.

I would ask that you take especial care during this time. It is possible my enemies may try to reach me through you. I would not wish you harmed on my account. You might, perhaps, avail yourself of Mr. Black's protection until this is decided, one way or the other.

Know that I shall ever be grateful to you for the friendship and concern you have ever shown me.

Your servant,

Chasen Ashforth Burkett"

Maria sits heavily to the floor, her head slumping forward, hair covering her face. The Blackbird, who's face has been necoming more and more red as she reads the letter, looks about ready to explode, her breath hissing out from between her teeth like an ancient tea kettle.

In a low, dangerous voice, the Blackbird asks, "What did he do to you, Maria?"

The coyote girls answers from behind her hair. "Nothing."

"Then what is this letter about?"

Maria looks up through her curtain of hair. Her eyes are dry, and her voice is cold. "I don't know that that's any of your business."

"None of my business?" The Blackbird's voice ends on a high, cracked note. She stares forward, taking in the open door to the bedroom, the scattered clothes, and the rumpled bed. "None of my _business_?" She looks back down at the half naked coyote girl glaring defiantly up at her. "_None_ of my _business_?!"

Maria gets to her feet, turning her back very deliberately on the older woman, arms crossed over her chest. "No."

The Blackbird surges forward, grabbing the younger woman's shoulder and spinning her around. Maria blinks at her in surprise as her friend practically snarls at her, "Did he touch you?"

Maria knocks her hand away, pursing her lips together tightly, but does not answer. The Blackbird leaves her hand floating there, but lets out a harsh bark of a laugh, an expression of pure indignantion. "He did, didn't he? That _bastard_, that son of a bitch! He takes a girl into his home, then takes advantage of her! How could I have ever trusted him, keeping that poor old woman locked up for all those years, he just couldn't wait to get his hands on another one, could he?"

The flat crack of the slap that Maria delivers to Josefina heralds a strange, shocked gasping sound from the human woman as her heads snaps backwards from the force of the blow. Her dark eyes widen in a particularly ugly manner as Maria hisses at her.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ talk about him that way." The Blackbird lets her hand lazily drift up to the brilliant crimson handprint on her check. A bit more force, and the girl could have shattered her jaw. "You have no right. Not you."

Feeling gingerly along the line of her jaw, the Blackbird's eyes are glittering black with rage. She says nothing for a moment, however, and the only sign of her struggle to control her temper is evidenced beneath her feet; the carpet crumbles away to dust, the board creak ominously as dry rot snakes through them at unnatural speeds.

Off to one side, Joe stands observing this exchange with deceptive calm. A quick, discrete motion, and his gun is in his right hand, held by the barrel but hidden in the folds of his duster.

He trusts the Blackbird's self-control, but not so much that he's willing to jeopardize Maria's safety.

"I am," she begins, her voice almost a whisper, "Maybe one of the only people that has the right to talk about him that way, _girl_. I _know_ what it's like to be there, and I know how easy it is to do something you shouldn't."

"He didn't do nothing!" Maria exclaims, suddenly agitated, pacing the room, her hands flying through the air as she talks. "He didn't even hardly touch me, not the way you mean, and I _wanted_ him to! Alright? I wanted him to so bad, and he wouldn't, and that's why he's gone away! Because I pushed myself at him, like a dog in heat, like a _coyote_, and he wants a human, okay?"

She pauses to take a deep breath, her face red, and continues, "I'm in love with him." *crack!* One of the floorboards goes, and the Blackbird steps to the side, avoiding it easily. "I told him, and he said the devil sent me." *cracklesnapgroan!* Two more boards, and a line of rot wends to the door, rusting the hinges. "Then he ran away."

"What?" Josefina's voice is clear, finally.

"He ran away. I don't know why. And now he sends me this letter. But he never touched me. You read it. I'm not even his friend, he's so formal." Maria stops finally, lets her hands fall to her side, her head fall again, defeated.

As quickly as fury overtook her, the Blackbird switches gears, and is across the now treacherous floor in two quick strides, pulling the girl into her arms. "Oh, pobrecita, pobrecita," she croons softly to the now sobbing Maria. "It's alright, shh, it will be alright, mi chamaca, it's okay." She rubs her hands in soothing circles on the younger woman's back, looking over her dark head to fix Joe with a helpless expression.

The gun is already back in the holster, Joe having immediately sensed the change in the Blackbird's mood. But now he blinks as he realizes that she's silently asking for his help in comforting this lovelorn girl.

A moment of what might be panic runs through the Lawman. Although a kind man, dealing with the emotions of others is absolutely, positively _not_ his forté. And even if it _were_, what could he tell Maria? To not worry? That Burkett surely loves her, too, and will be back soon for her?

Silently, he curses Burkett for putting him in this position. Before, he saw Burkett's flight as a melodramatic indulgence that he'd no reason to deny the man, despite its foolishness and ultimate futility. But now...?

Joe slowly walks up to the girl, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. And he does the only thing he knows to do.

"Maria?" he asks quietly. "Do you want me to find him?"

Maria looks up for a moment, her eyes red and wet. She sniffs, and wipes at her face with the back of her hand. "No, no, Joe, you should not look for him. If he needed to go... what could it help to bring him back, to find him? No, leave him alone."

She clings a little tighter to Josefina as she continues. "He will come back. He said so, he put it in his letter. I will wait for him."

"If that's what you want, mi chamaca," the Blackbird says to her soothingly. "But come back to say with us, okay? It will be good for you to be around people who acre for you-" She cuts herself off, biting her lip as she realizes what this implies, that Burkett does not care for the coyote girl.

"No," Maria is already shaking her head again. "No, I want to stay here. I want to be...where he will come back to." The Blackbird sighs, petting the girl's hair.

"If that's what you want," she repeats. "But you know you can come back at any time."

"I know." Maria tightens her arms around her friend, then releases her. "I need to be alone for awhile. Alright?"

"I... okay." Josefina backs up, gives Maria's shoulder one last squeeze. "You know how to get ahold of me." She is clearly uncomfortable with leaving the girl alone.

"I will come over tomorrow," Maria assures her softly, and this time Josefina nods with more confidence.

"Okay. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then."

Maria walks the two to the door, closing it behind them with a sigh, leaning against the cold wood.

[Continued in Battle Lines]


Maria leans forward, resting her elbows on the low table as she idly picks at the remnants of an impressive chunk of lamb. She pays little attention to the food now, her chocolate brown eyes fixed and entranced by the belly dancer undulating her way across the floor to the exotic strains of Eastern music...a song Cash had told her was called "Çadirimin Üstüne Ship Dedi ". As she watches the beautiful woman shaking her hips seductively, Cash translates the lyrics into English for her with an indulgent smile.

"It dripped on my tent... God didn't take my life yet... selling on credit, nothing is left... God didn't take my life yet... Hey Rompi Rompi Rompi Rompi... now it's time to drink..."

She doesn't really understand the words, why they make a song... but then she never really has understood music with words. All she knows is this woman is the most beautiful she's ever seen, with her rich curves and dark eyes, and the most amazingly happy smile...she wishes almost desperately that she could sit here forever watching her while at the same time wishing she _was_ the lovely dancer.

"Cezve is on the stove, let it boil, let it boil... let Raifye's arm dance... Tomorrow is Tuesday I'll go to the bazaar... I'll buy shoes for my love..."

The moment is almost perfect... the low murmur of voices all around her, people content and full; the wonderful aromas of cooking meat, pigeon and lamb, combined with heady spices; the warm sun peeking through the window on the back of her neck. She's glad now, that she let Maggie talk her into coming here, to the Interzone with Momo and Cash, after a week spent confined in Burkett's house. The contrast of that cold place, so hollow and empty without him, and this vibrant, living district is stark. But she'd had work to do there.... several false starts on fixing the floor and the door, and just time... she needed time alone.

But today was a good day. Maria had been to the Interzone once before, and had adored it on sight. The crowds of people, all boisterously jostling their way through the marketplace, the vendors hollering over the din of it all, and the smells! Oh, the heavenly smells, of people and sweat, and food and spice, the tang of animals and leather and wood and under it all the hot smell of ancient sand and dirt baked for eons by the sun.

Momo, of course, had taken off almost immediately upon running into a shouting and laughing crowd of young men that he seemed to know. Cash had rolled his eyes, but Maria had smiled and waved him away. And then Cash had brought her here, to the delightful cafe where they poured rosewater over her hands and no one expected her to use a fork or worse, chopsticks.

"You like the dancers, hm, Maria?" Cash asks from across the table, and she nods to the older man, never taking her eyes off the woman in red.

"Yes. Beautiful. I want to look like that." She sighs with disappointment as the song ends and the woman bows with a graceful flourish before disappearing behind a beaded curtain.

"You're quite pretty yourself, you know," the Egyptian points out, and Maria looked over at him, laughing.

"No! Have too much hair..." she points to her Frida Kahlo-esque brow and the light dusting of hair along her cheeks, almost like sideburns but softer, more feminine. "Too skinny." She isn't, not in the way that the Blackbird is, but there's a lean ranginess to her hips that speaks of her original form.

"I thought only human women were supposed to be unrealistically worried about their appearance," Cash ponders aloud, leaning back and stretching out slender legs. The coyote girl blinks at him, then laughs again. She leans forward to tap him on the chest.

"Right," she proclaims, then picks up her tea to sip at its mint sweetness.

"So where to next, m'lady?" Cash asks gallantly as they finish the tea in companionably silence. Maria likes Cash, has ever since she met him and Momo. The brothers contrast so well...Momo is fun for his very youthful rowdiness, and Cash because he knows the value of not speaking. She isn't in the mood for long discussions on her decisions, she's had enough of them with Maggie and the Blackbird. She just wants to live a little outside of herself for today.

Not that she isn't thinking about Burkett... it's not a choice for her, the way he remains in her thoughts. But she wants to think about him in a happier setting, imagine bringing him here and sharing a kebab as they wind their way through the marketplace, wants to watch his eyes when he saw the dancer, to see if he could appreciate her the way Maria did, wants to buy him dates and watch him bite into their rich sweetness.

"The bazaar?" she asks, and Cash smacks his forehead, disarryaing his blonde-streaked black hair with the gesture.

"Of course!"

He pays as she slings her bag over her shoulder, and then leads her into the thick of the crowd. There are people selling _everything_ here... bolts of silk, fresh fruits and vegetables, goats, trinkets and jewelery, musical intstruments, and other, more exotic wares.

Maria spots a small tent in which the primary merchandise seems to be dried insects, glistening long cenitpedes and fat black beetles. The men behind the wares talk in quiet tones and their customers are gaunt-eyed men with hollow mouths. Another booth holds only shimmering arrays of light, hawked by a cheerful fat woman who winks lewdly at any who pass her. Yet another tent holds a variety of nooses, in many types of rope, from soft white nylon to rough-edged hemp.

She stops at an open tent in which boys in various states of undress cavort in a expansive nest of pillows...the oldest being maybe seventeen, the youngest a fresh faced twelve. Maria looks over at Cash, and opens her mouth to ask, but he anticipates her and leans in to explain over the noise of the crowd.

"They're prostitutes... the actual slaves are sold in the flesh market two streets down, but some of the higher class brothels have booths here."

She nods, and notices that most of the boys are exceptionally pretty, with full pouting lips and mysterious dark eyes. One of the older ones steps forward with a welcoming smile, and she steps back quickly, to indicate she isn't interested in buying. He keeps coming, however, and she blinks her surprise. But then Cash steps past her and embraces the boy with a grin.

"Salaamtak," he greets the other, and the boy responds in a soft, breathy voice barely audible above the din.

"Allah yisallimak."

"Maria, this is Kiki," Cash introduces the young man, wearing only a pair of voluminous red pants, low on the hops and gathered in folds at the knee. "I met him at one of our shows...Kiki, this is Maria, a good friend."

"Hello, Maria," Kiki smiles at her sweetly, shyly, and she wonders at his profession. "Are you two shopping?"

"Not yet," Cash replies thoughtfully, looking over at maria. "Did you want to buy something?"

She hadn't wanted to, but...seeing all the silks and jewelery, "A... dress? Like the dancer wore?"

"A belly dancing costume?" the Egyptian asks with amusement. "I think we can do that..."

"Hold on," Kiki excuses himself, then holds a quiet conversation with the older man who seems to be the salesperson for the booth fo boys. He trots back with that same sweet smile. "Come with me," he says. "I know just the place for you..."

Kiki leads the coyote girl through some of the denser parts of the crowd, and down a little side street that holds a few smaller booths, and one large, enclosed tent. A woman stands outside, completely covered in a traditional black burka, leaving only her glittering dark eyes visible. The skin around her eyes is crinkled and leathery, the only visible sign of her great age, though Maria can small it on her, like old feathers locked in a musty room.

As the three approach, the woman bows her head politely, submissively, and turns her eyes to the ground. Kiki smiles reassuringly at Maria, and steps forward, addressing the woman in formal Arabic.

Cash explains to Maria in a low tone as Kiki continues, "He's explaining to her why we're here...we won't be allowed inside the tent, of course."

"We won't?" Maria raises her eyebrows, confused.

"No, I mean Kiki and I won't be. Don't worry, we'll wait for you right outside."

"Why?" Maria asks. She isn't particularly worried...but she had hoped to get Cash's opinion.

"Because we're men," he explains, and she looks over at Kiki and the woman again. She hasn't heard the woman speak...

As though anticipating, Cash adds, "She can't speak to us, either." Maria nods, shrugging. It seems like almost for every human in Nexus, there is another set of rules for behavior. Finally Kiki finishes, and gestures for Maria to follow the woman into the tent. She glances back once at Cash, who nods, and then trails after the tiny black-clad ancient.

The outside of the tent had been plain, a soft dun with no decoration, only some graceful Arabic letters on one side. But inside... Maria gasps with delight. Fabrics of all colors shimmer out at her... brilliant spring greens, deep blood crimsons, light swallowing black threaded with burnished gold, blues to rival the ocean on a summer day, plums and lilacs, butter yellows and sunset oranges, gentle ivories and stormy greys.

Immediately the older woman latches on to her arm, cackling at her expression. Maria looks down in astonishment, and the woman glances back up. She seems to be smiling, from the way her eyes wrinkle even further, disappearing like shiny-backed beetles.

"So skinny, little girl," she addresses the coyote in thickly accented English. "You need to eat more! You come home with me tonight, my daughters will cook for you!" She pokes Maria in the side with a long, gnarled finger that had not been visible outside, in the presence of the two males. Maria nods wordlessly, immediately charmed.

"Now!" the woman announces, rubbing her hands together. "I am Zafirah, you are Maria?" Maria nods dumbly, and the woman laughs again, a lively, hoarse sound. "We will find you the most beautiful clothes... something to show off the hips, yes?" As she moves past the girl, Zafirah squeezes her hips in emphasis. "Something to make your neck look long, push your breasts up, make the men stare, hm?"

Maria grins. "Yes... think so. Just want to look pretty."

"Yes, yes, yes," Zafirah agrees. "Lovely black hair," she strokes her hand through Maria's tumbling black locks, "Good skin, you will be beautiful."

Leading her by the hand, Zafirah pulls her through the many racks of gossamer skirts and brief tops, picking pieces here and there in a riot of colors. Her agile fingers poke and prod at the younger woman as she mutters to herself in Arabic, finally putting together several outfits that meet her approval.

Maria lost herself in the whirlwind of trying things on, marveling at the feel of the different fabrics against her skin, the clink of the little metal pieces on the belts, the strange, tight constriction over her breasts. The entire time, Zafirah was either nodding hard enough to shake her head off, or shaking her head in violent disapproval.

Finally, Maria is dressed to her approval, and she leads the younger woman over to the mirror. Maria blinks at herself, peering at her reflection in shock. Her outfit is a sort of rich, pale green, tinted with the barest hint of blue and grey. The skirt hangs almost obscenely low on her hips, held with a wide embroidered belt with a delicate fringe in silver. Under the outer layer of pale green is another skirt in a richer, darker green, peeking out from the long slits in the outer skirt. The pantaloons underneath that are the same forest green. Instead of the usual tight bra, she wears a loose silk sleeveless top, tucked into the belt, and open from throat to belly, exposing a long line of her copper skin. It is fastened at her throat with more silver. Rings adorn her bare toes and fingers.

Maria twirls in front of the mirror in delight, causing the multiple skirts to flare out. Zafirah watches benevolently, gathering a whole collection of other skirts and tops; outfits in dark plum, wine dark crimson, delicate rose, and royal blue. "Lovely, lovely," she approves, then benignly names an astronomical price, and waits, clearly expecting the younger woman to haggle.

Instead, Maria trots obediently over to her bag and digs through it, pulling forth a gallon ziploc bag filled with a messy wad of varying bills. Zafirah gapes as Maria hands her the bag, smiling hugely, but the tiny old woman recovers quickly, tucking the bag away somewhere about her person. She wraps and bags all of Maria's purchases, adding a few bits of jewelry and accessories.

Finally, she leads Maria back outside the tent. The two men are leaning against a wall, talking in low tones, but both look up as Maria emerges. Suddenly Zafirah's clever hands disappear, her eyes turn downwards, and the animated, slightly lecherous old woman dissolves entirely. The coyote girl is surprised, but doesn't let it stop her from embracing Zafirah enthusiastically.

"Maria!" Cash exclaims, his eyes travelling her body almost unconsciously, then fixing on her face with a careful smile. "You look... amazing."


It had taken her hours to clean the house properly. Not that it was so messy, or dirty, but she really wasn't very practiced at this keeping house thing, and had several false starts. That and she _hated_ the smell of the bleach. After finishing, she had hiked over two realities to use someone's rainbarrell, taking a full half and hour to try and scrub it out of her skin.

Emerging with slightly reddened, tender skin, she pulled on one of her new skirts and a comfortable tank top. More and more she had been wearing clothes, even while alone. More and more, she had been remaining in her human form.

Her damp hair trickled tiny droplets of water down her back, absorbed and disappearing into the soft cotton of her shirt, as she pulled out the large black box that Maggie had lent her. Knobs and dials decorated its surface, and a small read-out screen lit up as she plugged the device in and set it in the middle of the small sitting room. A few seconds later she pulled out the anxillarary boxes and set them, face down, on either side of the control box.

She fiddled with the buttons for a moment or two, experiencing several loud blasts of sound before finding the setting she wanted. Satsified, she sat down, pulling her skirt up so that it spread and pooled around her legs, leaving her bare legs and bottom to press firmly into the cool wood of the floor. One more push of a button, and music soared out of the small stereo system, sounding a bit muffled, but pounding gamely through the over turned speakers.

"In your life you seem to have it all
You seem to have control
But deep within your soul
You're losing it"

Maria planted her bare palms on the floor, leaning forward and closing her eyes as she began to unconsciously sway to the deep male voice pouring out of the stereo. The throb of the bass sent vibrations into the floor that she could feel through her exposed skin.

"You never took the time
Assume that you're to blame
You think that you're insane
Won't you spare me"

Her damp hair tickled as it spilled around her cheeks and she rocked forward a bit farther, her legs spread wide to maximize surface to skin contact. She hummed to herself in time to the lyrics.

"I know the breakdown
Everything is gonna shake now someday
I know the breakdown
Tell me again am i awake now maybe
You can find the reason that no one else is living this way"

As the man broke into the soaring, slightly growling chorus, Maria threw her head back and began to howl, a sort of ululating noise that owed something to her coyote heritage, but more to her human. It was a high, mournful sound that shouldn't have worked with the human singing, but somehow did.

"Yeah your lies
Your world is built around
Two faces to a clown
The voices in your head
Think there's four pawns down
Well in this unity
Fate has found the need
So you better check yourself
Before you check out"

As the verses kicked in again, Maria cut her howl, dropping into the humming once more, and rolling her head bonelessly on her neck, still squeezing her eyes shut, just _feeling_. She interspersed her humming with little croaks and yips that sound utterly inhuman.

"I know the breakdown
Everything is gonna shake now someday
I know the breakdown
Tell me again am i awake now maybe
You can find the reason that no one else is living this way"

Again, the howling. Her face took on an expression of utter rapture, upturned to the ceiling, her voice filling the small house and bouncing off the walls.

"If you find yourself
Then you might believe
Then within yourself
You just might conceive"

As the song trailed off, she slumped forward over her legs, pressing her ear to the floor, into the folds of the colorful fabric, and breathed deeply.

[Continued in A Nexus Christmas Special IV!]


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