"And Gianni wants to come back."

[hazlogs]

Monday morning, 2 June 2003. Background: Saturday night, Salem gets a call from Cat; the cub's very worried and freaking about Rina -- she had a bad dream and was really hysterical. Eventually, he got her back to sleep. Salem decides to check up on her.

Studio

The studio is airy, elegantly modern and full of light: a large, high-ceilinged square room with almost an entire wall of windows. It still smells of paint, though there is no evidence of current painting. Rolled canvases lean in one of the corners, and a few finished pieces adorn the walls. A six-foot length of pipe hangs a painting behind the couch, creating a slightly more personal space that evidently serves as a bedroom; the piece is a dark, strange cityscape, an oddly skewed view of the world beyond the glass seen through otherworldly eyes. The edge of a futon can be seen beyond it; the walls around the bed bear swirling patterns of colors, calming shades of undersea blue and green. These patterns gradually soften as they grow out into the rest of the room, where walls are visible; angles replace curves, until the mural becomes a mix of ocean and circuitry. The sofa is quirky and curving, a work of modern art upholstered in green velvet. A Turkish rug in vibrant tribal colors occupies much of the hardwood floor; the coffee table, a sculpture of recycled blue and green circuit-board and shiny aluminum, rests on it in front of the couch.

Opposite the windows, a compact kitchen is marked off by a crisp stainless steel counter. The west wall nearby has doors to a closet and to a small, sparsely-appointed bathroom. The east wall holds bookshelves of pale wood, supporting a small stereo, collections of pictures and found objects, and a good number of books; the corner between shelving and the wall of windows holds a plain wooden desk with a slim notebook computer and phone atop it, and an elegant mesh rolling chair.

Salem's knock comes early on Monday morning. Not crack-of-dawn early, but before midmorning.

She answers the door quite a bit later, in boxers and a wifebeater, her hair mussed. There are dark circles under her eyes, and she looks thinner than the last time he saw her, the hollow-eyed waif once again. A flicker of surprise touches her face, brings some small amount of life to it. "Jack..." Embarassment, and then a faint awkward attempt at a smile. "Um. Hi."

Salem himself looks remarkably casual in black sweatpants, dark red t-shirt, and black sneakers. "Morning. Can I come in?" He holds up a brown paper bag. "I brought bagels." His tone's pleasant; there's a hint of guardedness around the eyes, though.

Rina musters more of a smile, then. "Course..." She opens the door wide, to let him in, and then paces weaving toward the kitchen. "Coffee?"

"Absolutely." He steps in, closes the door behind him, and takes himself and his bagels into the kitchen. He glances around, eye falling briefly on the bed-screen. "Cat asleep still, or...?"

"Latin." She scratches mazily at the back of her head, and starts the coffee. "With Father whatsisname."

Salem makes a little 'ah' sound, setting the bag of bagels on the counter. He folds his arms across his chest,w watching her. "Sorry if I woke you."

Rina lifts a shoulder. "I wasn't really-- sleeping," she murmurs. "Didja get creamcheese? If not I think we have some..."

Salem arches an eyebrow. "No need, I got some." He unrolls the top of the bag noisily and reaches in, removing a couple of large cream cheese containers. "...And an assortment of bagels. Six. Plain, raisin-cinnamon, onion, salt, and a couple with the different kinds of seeds."

"Crazin!" She turns on a dime and digs into the bag. "Mine!" Digging out one of the dark raisin-speckled bagels, she pulls a knife from a drawer and attacks it.

Salem blinks, then quirks a crooked smile and claims his own -- the onion. "Cute," he mutters, snags a knife for himself and the other cream cheese container.

Rina flashes an almost childlike smile, to him--it would be the sun shining, if not for the bruised shadows under her eyes.

Salem slices his bagel in half, carefully, trying to minimize crumbs and avoid cutting himself. "So. Having trouble sleeping?" He pauses to glance over at her, eyebrow raised.

Rina looks away quickly. "Didja get my message the other day?" she asks, almost as if it's a riposte.

Salem's expression sours. He grunts, nods. "Possible bloodsucker at the firing range."

Rina nods. "And Gianni wants to come back." She is assiduously spreading cream cheese onto her bagel. "He won't stay away."

That gives Salem pause. He frowns subtly, and his eyes narrow. He was in the middle of applying cream cheese, but isn't anymore. "...Come again?"

Rina swallows, shaking a little, setting the knife across the top of the cream cheese very carefully. "He won't leave me alone," she says quietly. "Sometimes it--scares me."

Salem's jaw tightens. His next words are... careful. "Are you sure that it's actually... him? Sepdet's an accomplished ritualist, and she _did_ Gather for him."

Rina shudders, wrapping both arms around herself. "I don't know. I don't know. He-- he knows things. Does things. I don't know. Maybe it's just me I'm -- not exactly the most ...sane person. So maybe I'm fucking crazy or possessed or whatever, wouldn't be the first time." She talks too fast, trying to push away the pain.

Salem puts down the knife and the bagel and, carefully, steps over toward her. "How long?"

Swallowing, she pours a cup of coffee. "Since-- since he died." Her hands have the slightest tremor, as she passes him a cup of coffee; she turns, looking over to him, managing just enough courage to look up for an instant.

It's hard to read his reaction to this; it's too mixed. Belief and disbelief at war, and uncertainty. He doesn't say anything at first, just looks pensive and takes an automatic sip of coffee like there's nothing else he can do.

"He was so cold..." She looks away, tears brimming in her eyes. "I thought I was freezin' to death when I woke up, I think I scared the shit outta Cat." Her expression shifts, her brow furrowing. "I'm hungry," she says swiftly, and takes a fierce bite out of the bagel.

"I had a thought, during the Gathering." Salem's looking down into his coffee, and his voice is quiet. "That he was fighting it." His brow furrows; he looks even more uncertain now, and it suits him about as well as an ill-fitting suit.

Rina ducks her head, and swallows. "Maybe it's in my head," she whispers. "I want him back-- need him back... need him so much."

Salem sighs, turning the mug around in his hands. "I know," he murmurs, without recrimination. "But I can't bring him back." He shakes his head. "The only people I know that can bring the dead back were the Gurahl. Bear-shifters. But, they're extinct... and, by all accounts, needed a body anyay."

Her eyes fill slowly with tears. She sets down the quarter of a bagel, half-eaten. Picks up the cup of coffee, and frames it in both hands, looking down into it. "I don't know what to do," she whispers. "I think I-- I think it might--"

Salem sets down his coffee and closes the distance between them; he lays a hand on her shoulder, gently.

"When he--" Her voice is hoarse, unsteady. "When he's here I want--I want him to take me, I hold him and it's ice and I just want to--"

"...Go with him?" He's watching her face closely.

Rina presses her lips together, tightly.

Salem's gaze is steady and patient and far too old. He waits.

"I--" She takes a sip of her coffee, closing her eyes, as if it can restore her somehow. Maybe it can; she looks like she's running solely on caffeine and determination, at this point. Ducking her head again, she looks down into the cup, her brow furrowing. "I'm scared almost. That some night it'll happen, and-- and Cat doesn't need that."

"Cat's a Garou," Salem says flatly; his hand leaves her shoulder as he reaches for his coffee again. "I'm more concerned about _you_." He takes a deep swallow, still staring at her in that unwavering, intent way of his.