FanFiction_Mermaid

//One book they like to quote a lot at funerals is Ecclesiastes -
y'know, "To everything there is a season, and for all a purpose under
Heaven." That one. It helps because it implies that everything,
including death, has meaning. The cynic in me thinks it's crap, of
course, and the rationalist thinks that life and death are random.
Still, I admit to looking for meaning in Allianora's short, violent
life, and in her death.//

* * *

The funeral was not at all what Darien expected

For one thing, there were no Chrysalis personnel present. Darien had
expected a Mafia-style funeral, where the murderers of the deceased,
recognized as such, gathered their families and came to present
flowers as an object lesson. Stark, it seemed, had more decorum.
That, or he truly did know what Darien was capable of.

Darien had briefly considered attending on the edge of madness for
just that reason. It had been a wild thought, born of a stab of
grief, or maybe guilt. He had recognized it and dismissed it. What
he might have done, uncaring, would have disgraced the woman who'd
betrayed him and saved his life.

And, as it turned out, it would have been pointless. The only
attendees were himself, Hobbes, the priest, and two women, one
younger than Darien, one older. They shared Allianora's coloring.
The younger woman looked almost confused, eyes not resting long on
any one part of the churchyard. The older woman was difficult to
read through the dappled oak leaf shadows, but there was grief.

"Her mother?" he whispered, "You think?"

"Probably," Hobbes murmured in reply. "Hard to say for sure.
Chrysalis kept the Mermaid's records locked up tighter than a drum.
Eberts got nada."

That was the most they spoke until the service ended. After a few
quiet words with the priest, it was only natural that the two women
seek out the other attendees.

It was Hobbes whom the older woman approached first, while the
younger drifted to Darien.

"This is all so weird, you know," The accent was thick, pure New York
Puerto Rican. "I thought she died a few years back. I was really
mad when I never heard about the funeral. Figured I wasn't invited."

"Are you her sister?"

"Were you her boyfriend?" the girl countered. "Not that it's my
business, I guess. I'm not - I wasn't her sister, but we did kinda
grow up together. We . . ." the girl looked over at the woman and
Hobbes. "I was her lookout when we were little. We robbed a couple
few liquor stores."

"She was a thief?" When the girl stiffened, he held up a hand. "Not
judging here. I'm an ex-con." She relaxed. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Baby. I was the baby on the crew, and Alli always took care of
me. Until . . . It all happened so fast - that guy dying, and
prison, and cancer. We heard about the cancer, and we figured that
was it. I mean, lung cancer - you don't come back from that, y'know?"

"What guy dying?"

The girl took a deep breath. "Last liquor store, somebody got shot.
All our prints were on everything, and I was outside, so I had no
story, and they were looking at me for it. Nobody knew who did it,
or nobody was saying, but Alli stepped up. She confessed, went to
jail. Then we all found out why - she was dying, and she knew it.
Last I heard she was letting them do tests on her or something." The
girl looked over at the grave. "That was Alli. She liked being
tough, being a thug, but she had a good heart. She came through for
me."

Softly, "Yeah, me too."

"Good," the girl said. "I'm glad. I got out of the life after that,
you know. Thought that was what she would've wanted. I help her mom
out sometimes." She glanced at the woman who now approached
him. "Yaidra, this is . . ."

"Darien."

"This is Darien. He knew Alli."

"So I hear." The woman's face was lined, her dark hair streaked with
iron. "Baby, can you please speak with the priest? I need to talk
to this young man." The girl did as asked.

"I understand you worked with my daughter." The voice was heavy with
more than grief. Fear, too, and things Darien couldn't name.

"I met her at work, yes."

"Were you close?"

Darien closed his eyes, and thought about their encounter, heavy with
passion and deceit. Then he recalled the feeling of life returning
to his body through Allianora's breath.

"Yes."

Yaidra sighed. "Then maybe I can find a little peace here. Walk
with me, please." She guided him around the tombstones that lay at
her daughter's feet. "Darien, was my daughter a killer?"

Guards and agents, water fountaining from their mouths. "Of course
not."

The woman stopped him, considered his face. "Has anyone ever told
you you are a terrible liar?"

"Yeah, I've heard that."

"I lied to myself, you know, for a long time. She went to jail once,
maybe Baby told you?" He nodded. "I told myself there was no way
she could have killed a man. But I looked into her eyes, and I
knew. Just as I knew the day she came back to me." She paused. "It
was dark, and late, and nobody else in the neighborhood knew she was
there. I think she wanted them to keep their image of her intact.
Practically an angel to them all, but one look in her eyes . . . A
mother knows, Darien, when her daughter's sold her soul." There were
tears in her eyes for the briefest of moments, and then they were
gone.

"Tell me, Darien, how did my Allianora die? If you lie to me now,
I'll believe you."

He met her eyes. "Allianora died saving my life."

A deep breath. "She lived for an evil man. That much I knew. At
least now I know she died for a good one." She turned, and they
walked back. As they neared Hobbes, she asked one more
question. "Did she . . . did she have any happiness in her life?"

Darien considered something else, then nodded. "Yeah."

Yaidra held his gaze for a second, then turned, and they parted
ways. Hobbes fell into step beside him as they left. They were
quiet on the way to the van, and for a good while after.

"Y'know, I never really thought about it," Darien said, breaking the
silence. "I mean, where she came from, her life before. I just saw
her in terms of what she did to me or for me."

"We all see people through the frames of our own lives, my friend,"
Hobbes responded. "It's unavoidable." He pulled the van into a
small, familiar lot, kicking up sand.

"I mean, when I shot her that time, I never thought 'this woman's got
a mom, family.'"

"Good thing, too. You drive yourself crazy thinkin' that way, and
believe me, neither of us needs the help."

"And then, her poor mom. She's trying to make sense out of all of
this."

"Doesn't always make sense, Fawkes. You know that."

The two looked out through the van's front window, over the sandy
bluffs of the beach.

* * *

//So is it true after all? For all a purpose under Heaven?
Allianora's mom, far as I can tell, wanted her daughter's death to be
her redemption or her salvation. So did I, maybe selfishly, since it
was my fault. Maybe that's it, I mean, maybe these awful things have
all the meaning we give them, no more, no less.//

//"Did she have any happiness in her life?"

Allianora, dripping, leaning over him, face transformed with joy. "I
thought I'd lost you . . ."

"Yeah."//

--
End