Little Bitty Puzzle Pieces

By PJzallday

Recede

Sitting on the well-worn plastic seat in the middle of the city bus, John was staring out the window when a group of teenagers boarded. Noisily they moved to the back of the bus. Initially as they bumped past him, the reclusive man was annoyed, but as they settled in, giggling and chattering, there was something almost comforting about the situation. Maybe he'd been a teacher, or grown up with sisters. Or maybe he had children of his own. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine — strained to remember — what his life might have been. But all that came was the indecipherable banter of teenaged girls. With a sigh, he opened his eyes.

John pulled the cord alerting the driver to make the next stop, slid from his seat and made his way to the rear exit of the bus. As he reached the stairs, he glanced up at the gaggle of girls seated across the back of the bus and smiled. He hadn't even realized that he'd done it, so when the teens began to giggle, he pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow in surprise. When he stepped off the bus, he couldn't help but be amused by the whistles and whoops.

Feeling flattered, John sauntered the few blocks to Judith's condominium complex.

"Hey John, how're things?" the doorman inquired as he buzzed the visitor into the lobby.

"Can't complain, I s'ppose." He nodded his thanks and headed out across the courtyard. When he reached her door, John was anxious. Because of their schedules, he hadn't seen Jude in a couple of weeks and, except for the call to invite him to dinner, they hadn't even spoken. He had so much to tell his friend.

***

The big night: John was coming over for dinner. It wasn't the first time he'd been to her place. They'd chatted over coffee; eaten pizza while watching television; they'd even played cards, but tonight was special. "Dinner".

Judith checked her hair and make-up in the mirror for the tenth time in half an hour before mentally reviewing of her list of things to do: the salad plates and wine were chilling in the fridge; rice was simmering on the stove; vegetables and stuffed chicken breasts were ready to pop in the oven; the table was set complete with fresh flowers and- "Oh! Light the candles," she remembered, going to find some matches. She wanted everything to be perfect for the night she would tell John how she felt about him. Maybe they'd even- She hurried into the bedroom and checked the night stand. Was she being overly optimistic opening the box of condoms?

The door bell rang.

Another quick check. A deep breath. "This is it." She smiled nervously as she smoothed her form-fitting black cocktail dress and made her way to the door.

"Hey Jude."

She loved when he'd say that. There he was, dressed in snug black jeans and mock-turtleneck. The blue of the sweater, Judith couldn't help but notice, brought out the colour of his eyes. She loved his eyes and on this night, they sparkled with excitement.

"John…" Her voice was ragged; she hadn't noticed that her throat had gone dry at the sight of him. "Um… Come on in."

"Thanks, pet," he said smiling. Holding up a paper-bagged bottle and a simple bunch of daisies and carnations, he asked, "Got somewhere to put these?"

The enamoured woman took the flowers. "These are beautiful. You can just put that on the counter," she added as she searched her cupboard for a suitable vessel for the bouquet. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Got a beer?" he requested as he settled himself comfortably on the couch.

"Sure." After filling the vase with water and setting it on the counter, she nestled the flowers into it, giving them a quick fluffing to loosen the bouquet. She grinned with delight at his thoughtfulness before turning to the fridge to grab a beer. "Do you want a glass?" she asked as she poured herself a gin and tonic.

"No, s'alright," he called back. "Just get in 'ere already!" He was eager to talk, so as soon as she was out of the kitchen he began, "So, you know I've been seein' that quack you recommended?"

Judith shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Therapist. She's a therapist."

"Whatever. Bloody lot of rot that," he complained. "Says I need to just relax and settle into a routine. That I'm tryin' too 'ard, gettin' my knickers in a twist tryin' to remember. Guess that's true enough. Seems these… flashes come to me at the strangest times."

"I see." She sat down beside him enthralled by the animation of his face.

"Can't remember a blasted thing when I want, but… well, there was this bit the other day. I'd gone down to the corner shop to pick up a nice bottle of summat for tonight and… I don't know. Thought maybe…" His mind was all over the place, trying to figure out what more to tell her. "So, I've tried relaxation," he continued. "I've taken herbs. She's had me shooting stuff up my nose, and… well, now she wants to give hypnosis a go."

Jude sounded reassuring, "It has been known to work for some people." She was having to force herself to concentrate on what he was saying rather than being lulled into a hypnotic state of her own by the sexy tone of his voice.

"Next thing you'll be tryin' to talk me into meditation. Bet you've got the number of a shaman or some such that can unlock my deepest darkest secrets." He smirked at her and she laughed, but inside both wished it really was so simple to discover some truth about the man.

"It'll happen, John." She sat down on the coffee table in front of him and took his hands. Looking deeply into his troubled blue eyes, she said, "One day, you'll remember. I believe in you."

"I believe in you…"

His face softened. His jaw dropped slightly. His head tipped. He was both shocked and comforted by her words; Judith was so touched and aroused that she leaned in a kissed him.

***

Her body ached.

Earlier in the day, it ached in thrilling ways it hadn't in almost two years. As they moved together, her flesh was slick against the fine Egyptian cotton sheets. Her breasts tingled under the slightest brush of his hand. The muscles of her thighs burned from the intensity of squeezing tightly so as not to allow the escape of the man she loved — refusing to sacrifice the sensation she'd been so long without; the sensation that had had her throbbing with need and her head light with endorphins.

But now Buffy's body ached horribly. She could feel the blooming of each fingerprint cluster that mottled her back and buttocks; the fractures in her hands where he'd clutched too firmly; the sting of tissue fusing on her neck and breasts where he'd torn into her flesh and fed from her, grunting savagely with every draw. And inside, Buffy was raw after pleasure had been replaced by real fear.

In the aftermath, the diminutive form huddled against the pillow at the edge of the bed. At the edge of sleep, Buffy desperately yearned to bask in the afterglow of their passion. Lying bruised and weakened in the blood-streaked sheets, she couldn't. Instead her thoughts were dominated by images of fury and intensity, and her heart was heavy with a feeling of great loss. Closing her eyes, she could feel the tears

No! Buffy didn't want to cry. She didn't want to think. Didn't want to feel. She only wanted to sleep. To rest.

"Can we rest now? Buffy… can we rest?"

***

Angel crouched on the tiled floor with water pelting like shards of ice from above. The scene reminded him of another night, years earlier when, after a century of shallow encounters and solitude, the vampire had connected with another soul. He'd been in love for perhaps the first time in his life and though it was a love he fought, eventually it consumed him. And it was that love which literally changed his life as he shared a night of tenderness unlike anything he'd known before — or since. That night, with Buffy asleep beside him, he'd awoken in a panic and run out into the deluge and darkness as his soul was freed into the ether.

That hadn't happened this time. Unlike the sweet innocence of their first intimate experience, their lovemaking on this night was desperate, impassioned, carnal. Though he'd told her over and over and over that he loved her — whispered, screamed, muttered, and growled his words of love — Angel knew love alone hadn't driven him. To him, what had passed between them was so much more like his night with Darla: about need not love, and that realization only exacerbated his suffering for it had been that night that their son was conceived. "Connor…"

But it wasn't just his feelings or urges that had changed. She'd changed. She wasn't the submissive girl she'd been when they'd first made love. Buffy was now a woman who knew what she liked and knew how to get it, and that awareness enraged Angel's demon. Though he'd tried to deny or ignore the notion that Buffy had been with Spike, as their lovemaking progressed, he couldn't help but think of Spike kissing her, touching her, thrusting inside her, making her scream with satisfaction...

Tearing at his scalp, the vampire roared then smashed his fisted hands against floor shattering the ceramic tiles. As the blood and hair swirled into the drain, he collapsed against the broken tile and wept.

***

"Jude…" John called hesitantly after knocking on her bathroom door. "I'm sorry. I didn't... didn't mean to… I mean, I just didn't realize you-"

She opened the door. Her nose was red; her eyes, blood-shot; and her mascara was smeared across her cheek. But still she forced a smile. "It's alright, John." She chuckled awkwardly. "I don't know… what I was thinking." She walked quickly past him so he couldn't see the tears welling again in her eyes or the flush of embarrassment burn in her cheeks.

John stood uncomfortably in the hall trying to decide what to do or say, and he could only arrive at one conclusion. "Maybe I should… just go."

At his words, the dejected woman squeezed her eyes tightly and sucked in an audible breath. Then she nodded. "I think you should."

***

At her feet dead, lay a two-headed reptilian creature. It had been a struggle, but she'd managed to best it.

"You have done well."

Startled by the voice, the lithe Asian girl spun around, wild-eyed and ready for another fight.

Two men in dark suits approached her; nervously she back down the alley.

"Please," one of the men continued in the girl's native Sichuan. "We mean you no harm. We only want to talk."

 

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