The Jaguar Claw Codex (A PIT Case, IC, Closed)

[Bazalonia]

He couldn't quite explain it, but John felt his own connection to this place, the pyramids. A war to defend their home but things happened and they were cursed, like John. Living a life that was no life, he had survived but at what cost? He would never forget what happened to him the faces of those masochists who gleefully applied unspeakable torments to their captives. The worst thing about it all they won, they had stripped him of his humanity his emotions his rather easy going friendly nature, his sense of humour. Even the card games that he ran was utilitarian, it was simply a way to fill in time.

Everything that made him special and unique had been ripped away from him that day it left him an empty shell, without fear, without favour but there was something he left with. After seeing the worst of humanity when it is left without boundaries he found refuge in the strict rules and procedures in war and in life. Psychologists said it was a method to take control, to enforce some order where there was none.

It was hard to explain but in that rain he was truly glad, something that had not happened for 6 years, 10 months 13 days and 10 hrs. There was a spark of life. Sure it wasn't much but it was enough, if taken care of and fed perhaps one day he would have the life he'd missed out on, the life that he and his four squad mates deserved. It would take a long while but there was light and there was hope. He could vaguely someone saying something, a quote by someone famous he had no idea of the specifics but the words floated through his mind... “while there is hope there is life” and now finally he has a life to lead once more.

Perhaps the single most ironic thing was his faith, he had already lapsed as a Catholic from before all this had happened, who would of thought that such an act could eventually lead him to finding his faith once more, he had tentatively made the steps back to the fold but the case only re-affirmed the existence of the spiritual realm and the place of demons and evil and as a result he was more confident about his faith than he'd ever been before.

John had made big steps in dealing with his issues during this case but he was far from being healed, it would take work and a lot of time and there were something that could never be healed but he was going to come through this, perhaps even stronger than he came out and that he knew.

As for the people and the Journey back, Sofiya had an innocence about her, which resulted in some time being uncomfortable during her bathing requirement. John averted his gaze as they took to the water, he would not join them,not yet anyway, despite an acknowledgement of just how badly he probably smelled.

John would keep quiet on the trip back, including on them riding the Antichrist back to El Cuyo merely looking out the window as things passed by. Somehow it was hard to say for what reason but everything seemed, brighter. Perhaps it was some lingering affects of the rain back at the Pyramids or he's still getting down from an adrenaline high whatever the reason, soon he was back at El Cuyo and the following day he'd disappeared out of El Cuyo heading out the direction he entered.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

“Damn men. Always complicating things,” she teased, giving him a sidelong look. “Here, let me make this easier for you. Or not, as the case may be.”

Sofiya turned a bit so she could face him then, one arm supporting her weight while the other rested atop her hip. “You’ve had a lot of transition in your life of late, Wil. And unless I miss my guess, you’re adjusting to those changes, looking for answers, looking for solutions, and it hasn’t been easy. And because of all the chaos going on, all the uncertainty, you’re hoping for something solid, something with some permanency to hold onto while you’re adrift and finding yourself, finding your path. The problem is, I’m not that thing. And having me isn’t going to solve any of those problems, or answer those questions for you.”

“If I’m wrong, my sincere apology, amante. But that seems to be, from the outside at least, what’s been going on. Lord love you, man – I’m just not the settling down sort. I don’t see myself settling down in any one place with any one person any time soon, in spite of involvements and the like. All the same, I won’t deny wanting you, damned if I wouldn’t mind having you, but if so, you’ve got to know how it’ll all pan out in the end.”

Her words were like a kick in the gut, but Hebert couldn’t say he was surprised, what she said was true if he was honest with himself. Hell, he’d had more or less the exact thought, though in a relatively more positive light back at the Pyramids.

He couldn’t quite pick through his roiling of emotions, somewhere between bitter loss and anger. He longed for exactly the things she stated, yet it seemed at every turn the world did everything it could to keep it away from him. In the end, looking out onto the water, and listening to the rolling waves, he decided he didn’t care, she had already admitted to wanting him, and he wanted her more than anything right then.

Without another word he leaned in across the sand, placing a hand on her chin to bring her face to his, and locked her lips to his own. And for her, that was answer enough.

There was no more hesitation this time. The situation had been clarified, there shouldn't be any misconceptions at this point, and if anything were to be done about it all, now was the time. Her arm went around him, pulling him close even as she shifted closer as well, her nimble fingers already finding ways to tempt and tease.

He responded tentatively to her teasings and proddings with ones of his own, reaching pulling her around closer to him, continuing to kiss her deeply, his hands tracing lines around her body. Hovering lovingly in places that elicited a greater response for either of them. Slowly his own motions began to hover towards undoing the fastening of her top. If she intended to stop him, now, he figured, was when she’d do it.

Sofiya had no intention of stopping things, making it abundantly clear when she took hold of his hand and guided it to the ties at her back, teasing him about his hesitancy between increasingly hungry kisses. "Not having doubts now, are you?"

He was grateful for her guiding hand around the ties at her back, between hastily gathered breaths. He reveled in the picturesque moment. He began to kiss her in various more places when the top came off, and taking the beautiful woman before him in, he replied, “I never had no doubts ‘bout you, chère.” He nibbled playfully at her ear when he said it, as he went to work on the sarong covering her lower half.

She was only too happy to assist where she could, taking advantage of the fact she had already been ahead of the game, with him in nothing but those drawstring pants he'd become so attached to. The thrill of exploring, finding out what elicited the most positive responses was just the sort of game she enjoyed.

If playing with the pleasure senses of a partner was a game Sofiya enjoyed, it was one Hebert aimed to excel at, as he placed strategic hands, kisses, and fingers into various places along her body. He enjoyed every minute of it, and every inch of her, placing no mind to whether anyone would be watching, or the gritty sand beneath them as they moved around. That’s what sandbars on the river were for back in Maurepas.

After a particularly pleasurable sound escaped her lips he began to position himself into the main field of play in this game, only to have her slow things down a pace simply in the interest of safety. For some things, she was always prepared, and this was no exception. Hebert grinned as she brought the game to half-time, “Always play with the cap, eh?” and he himself let out a deep sound of pleasure as she found her way around him with the item in question. That accomplished as seamlessly as she could manage, she took matters into her own hands, letting him know exactly what she wanted, and how, all in hotly-whispered tones.

There was never a question of satisfaction on her part. Sofiya had no problem expressing pleasure, or offering encouragement. All that pent-up tension and frustration found the perfect outlet there under the stars amidst quiet moans and sighs. And she savored every minute of it.

Letting out his own pent up energies he then proceeded into the rhythmic strokes of the dance. It was one he was well familiar with but one he’d participated in far too rarely as of late. And rarer than that with a partner so well versed in its execution.

After all the waiting and worrying, Sofiya was in no hurry to end things, making the most of the time she had with the man whose teasing smiles had promised so much for so long. That those promises had turned out to be anything but empty came as no surprise, knowing him as she did.

Hebert’s smirks turned into hard looks of ecstasy as he grabbed her smooth thighs, each powerful thrust bringing him closer to the song’s climaxing note. With a moan escaping from the lips of his partner he finally let himself go as well. And when they finally lay spent, the soft breeze coming off the ocean cooling their fevered skin, she nestled in contentedly, fingertips idly tracing along his chest and stomach.

Laying there holding her as she continued to trace his skin with her fingers he said softly, “We could’ve been great you know…”

Sofiya smiled quietly, shifting a bit closer. "It would never work, Wil. I could give you all the reasons why, but it all boils down to me being me."

Hebert smirked at her as he looked into her eyes, he knew what she was saying. But, beneath the stars left behind by the sun’s going down and thrust out of the sky, he couldn’t help but let one last dash of bravado shine out of his demeanor, “You keep tellin yourself that, l'amour.”

And with that he planted one final deep kiss on her before letting the lights dim as he nestled in next to her, while she lay awake there for a while just watching him sleep.

A Nathicana/Maurepas Co-op Production

[North Avayu]

The journey back went on according to plan. After bathing, eating and taking care of the worst injuries, everyone took up a tarp bag and they left the saw rout they had come the day before. The bags were heavy and inside metal pieces clattered and thrummed against each other. Tony had a feeling that the others had given him a lighter one than most others were carrying, because of what he had gone through. But when they stopped for the first time, he still wanted to know for what reason he put this burden on his already battered body and took a peek inside his bag. It wasn't all gold, but as the sunlight touched its content, it sure looked that way. For a short time, Tony was blinded by it and he couldn't stop his brain from trying to calculate the gold's value alone. Not that he would have needed it, it was just the consequence of growing up in an environment where everything had had a market value. Needless to say, he failed. The amount of gold was incredible, not to speak of the real, the historic, cultural and artistic value. As they marched on, Tony caught up with Jack and asked him to send invitations to the opening of the exhibition that would take those treasures. He wanted to see the items where they belonged now, in a museum, in all their beauty and pride.

The first obstacle on their way were the caves. Before they entered the half-light of the underworld, Tony was a bit afraid of going there again. The memories of his first time had blurred and only left behind an otherworldly experience of beauty, but also of danger and death. But the caves had changed. They still were incredible beautiful, a piece of art formed by nature and time, but this time they seemed much more worldly. It was as if on his first transition the veil between the world had been lifted and now was back in place, not allowing him to see and hear again what he had seen and heard. The stalagmites and stalactites still impressed him, but this time they were exactly that, columns of chalk formed by dripping water, and not the teeth of otherworldly beasts, not pillars holding ceilings as high as the sky. The caves were still a world of wonders, but wonders of this world. It was a side effect of the work of the PIT: Cases were solved and the mysteries surrounding them were gone afterwards, not always completely, but mostly. The caves also seemed to be much shorter, as they reached the exit in the cenote much faster. But maybe that was because he wasn't straying around in delirium this time.

Back at their camp, they found their stuff as they had left it behind, apart from some rations eaten by monkeys and clothes scattered in the surrounding jungle by the little beasts. Tony found his rucksack intact, if also a bit wet by the daily rain. Still, he found a pair of dry trousers inside and a shirt to put on. Fully clothed again, he already felt much more like a civilised human. They broke camp and continued their way along the river. During that time, his team mates found Tony to be communicative and cheerful. the old Tony seemed to have returned. The only sign that it wasn't that easy was the way he silently looked after the cunning monkeys a few seconds longer after they had disappeared into the shadows between the trees.

They reached the boat around sunset. The Titanic sat on the shore under waterfall just like they had left her. Geraldo, the old and grumpy bus driver, didn't seem to have counted on their eventual return, judging by the surprise that played over his face as he looked up from his days old newspaper crossword when they emerged from the jungle. Tony saw Sofiya hugging Dirk and even though his mind was quite tired after everything that had happened, he was able to piece together that she was thankful for some kind of help the psychic had sent. He nodded at the huge man in the wheelchair respectfully, not sure what to thank for or what to say. The days on the boat flew by. He played cards with the other people, tried to make good for the sleep he had lost and enjoyed the sun sitting at deck. It was a peaceful time, the only interruption one evening when he stood at the railing, thinking about throwing her ritual knife into the dark water. He wasn't able to do it and returned to his hammock not much later, falling into a healthy sleep, not remembering the beautiful dreams he had had the next morning.

Their arrival was celebrated by the people of Pequeño, and for some time, Tony enjoyed the colourful going-ons surrounding the luchadores, but after a while, he decided to quietly celebrate on his own in Zaziella's cantina, with the first mug of good, hot coffee he had in a long time and sweet corn cakes. He sat in the same place he had seen her from for the first time and he nearly expected a girl in a white dress to enter halfway during his meal, but nothing happened. Tony sighed, drank the last sip of his coffee, ate the last bit of the corn cake, thanked the owner of the place with a rather generous tip and rejoined his friends at the Antichrist. The world hadn't ended yet and regardless he'd have to get on board of the damn thing. As there was no way of taking revenge at the vehicle itself, he shot a condemning look at Geraldo, which quickly turned into a smile as the driver turned on the terrible loud boom box. Geraldo said good-bye to his disappointed looking niece, who luckily didn't seem to have run over anybody in their absence. Accompanied by booming Latino rhythms, the Antichrist rolled put of the village and towards the coast. The roads were still as bad and the suspension was still non-existent, so that his posterior hurt like hell after an hour or so, but this time Tony was able to derive some enjoyment from the drive, sitting closer to his friends, knowing that they had achieved something.

Arriving in El Cuyo, the first thing Tony did was taking a long shower and sleeping half a day afterwards. While his friends were busy organising their return flights or doing other things he wasn't completely oblivious of but which he neither condemned or commended, Tony took some time to wander around the town. At the beach front, close to the landing place full of colourful fishing boats and in between a few restaurants frequented by tourists, Tony found an old artist sitting with his easel in the shadow of a tree, waiting for people to pay a small fee for a portrait. The man clearly knew his trade and while his pictures where no masterpieces, they were nice to look at. But Tony didn't want to have a portrait of himself. A strange idea took form in his head, one he couldn't really explain to himself, but still a very powerful one. He walked up to the old man and pointed at his tools, brush and easel, the palette full of colours. He rubbed his fingers to show that he wanted to know the price the man would take for them. After minutes of gesturing and chunks of Spanish and English, the man understood that Tony didn't want to buy a portrait. But he also didn't want to let go of the tools of his trade, for no money Tony could offer. Instead, he pointed Tony towards a small shop that had the supplies he needed. Tony thanked the man with a smile the artist instantly wanted to catch on canvas, but the young man was already off in the right direction. The shop was small and cramped full of other stuff, but in the sternmost corner he found a small canvas already mounted on a frame, brushes and tubes of paint, all of which he bought.

Back at the Paragon house, Tony made some room between the sunbeds on the veranda to set everything up. He had never considered himself an artist, only once had dabbled a bit into painting when a girlfriend of him had been an art enthusiast, with mixed results. The woman had adored him for it, but his friends had laughed about his "art". Why he suddenly wanted to paint he didn't know, just that he felt the urge to use the pain to express himself. The sun rose and fell again in its arc over the sky, but Tony didn't even perceive the hours passing. Too absorbed was he in his work. When he took a step back from the canvas, the sun nearly touched the horizon. He looked at the result of his work. It wasn't great, nothing to show in a museum. But he was contend with it. The plain shoulders and collar of a white dress. The smooth line of a neck running up to a beautiful, well-proportioned face with bronze skin. Surrounded by long, black hair, artfully braided and still full and free flowing from the top of her head. Two dark, regal eyes to lose oneself in looking straight at him. She smiled. He smiled. The evening wind ran blew, waves ran against the beach, sea gulls cried. Life would go on. Some things would change. Other things would never change.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Time. It was something she didn’t have as a luxury. And after their earlier discussion, spending the night would only give the wrong impression, and she knew it. So for a short while she watched him, wondering if the words she’d said had been taken to heart, smiling gently at his last tease. She’d miss that when she was gone, no doubt. But whatever the case, this brief tryst was done. It had to be, as enjoyable as their short time alone had been.

Things had been simpler when she wasn’t intimately involved. She did as she liked, when she liked, and rarely had there been any consequences. She’d allowed a situation here to go further than it should out of habit, not understanding at first the complications and effects it might have on those involved. This was the best way she could figure to clear the air, at least on on side of things. Closure to the situation had been required. It just happened in this case to be decidedly pleasurable. The other part of the equation would require more work, but with the understandings gained over the past week, she felt confident they would be able to work things out, so long as there were respected boundaries.

Sofiya gently disentangled herself, brushing a hand through his hair affectionately. She hated having to wake him when he was so peacefully content, but leaving him laying on the beach like that was a cruelty that she didn’t even consider. “Hey,” she said, trying to gently rouse him. “Its getting late, and I don’t know about you, but there is no way I’m going to sleep out here on the beach.”

While he decided what he was going to do, she got dressed again, one hand working the sand from her hair. “Like I told you earlier, my friend. You know how this has got to be. You’re like family, Wil – without any weird connotations,” she added jokingly. “That won’t change. But the rest, it’s got to stop. You’re gonna have to come to terms with that however works, but understand I’m not going to be the reason two friends became enemies. And I’m not going to go back and forth between you. I should have never let things get to the point they did, but I misunderstood. I thought you were both just casually enjoying the game. I guess you can say I know better now, yes? I didn’t understand it at the time, but I made my choice that way a while ago. And until things change, that’s the choice I intend to honor.”

The young woman leaned in and hugged him tightly, hoping to reassure, though making it clear in her body language that’s all it was. “I can’t fix everything for you. I’m not the answer you’re looking for. But I’ll help in any way I can in the meantime. Any way save more of this. You’re surrounded by friends, Wil. And whatever else happens from here on out, don’t forget that. Its going to be ok in the end.”

There wasn’t much more she could say, really. What he did from there would be up to him, but her own course was finally clear. With a final light kiss on the cheek, she drew back, resisting any attempts to get her to stay with gentle hands. “Don’t stay out here all night, hm?”

Getting to her feet, she brushed off what sand she could as she made her way back up the beach towards the house that lay a good deal off from where they’d been. It wasn’t without feeling that she didn’t look back, it was out of necessity. Words meant little if they weren’t reinforced with actions. And as she said, she’d chosen her course.

The house was fairly quiet when she got there, which suited her fine. She went directly to the room she’d staked out when they’d first arrived what seemed ages ago, hoping to wash the last of the sand from her hair with a long, luxurious shower.

What would happen, would happen, she considered as the warm water cascaded down over her upturned face. But at least for once in her life, she seemed to have a clear direction.

[Muravyets]

The sleep, the swim, and the mangoes did wonders for Karel, as did the overly perfumed soap. Patchouli was a scent he enjoyed when it was on Sofiya. Not so much on himself, but he took it as a blessing in exchange for the filth the battle with that demon of the underworld had left on him. All those things combined to restore his body enough to carry whatever he was asked to carry back through the beautiful and surprisingly short caves to their camp and then on to the base camp and the boat.

But he needed more to restore his energies mentally and emotionally. On the way back to the Titanic he let others take the lead, glad to be in the hands of Los Rojos and Jack Fahy. On the boat, he slept most of the way, dead to the world in a hammock. In Pequeño, he submitted as needed to the effuse praise and celebrations of El Santo and the townspeople, shook hands and smiled for the occasional photo, made statements for the authorities concerning the ruins and the fate of Los Hombres Malos, signed papers for Jack Fahy about the disposition of the artifacts. Otherwise, he sought as much quiet as he could, grateful to leave the spotlight to shine on others who deserved it more in this place, among these people.

Gradually, the PIT team members said their goodbyes and went their ways. Jack Fahy had enthusiastic thanks for all, and assurances that everything would be sorted out smoothly about the less happy aspects of the adventure. Bidding them all farewell in the central plaza of Pequeño as they prepared to board the Antichrist, he said to Karel, “Hey, see you around Muravyets one of these days maybe, eh? And if you ever need anything, give me a call. Any time. I mean it.”

And off they went, north-bound to the coast, to end the case as they had begun it, with four friends in the beach house in El Cuyo.

But things were not the same between all the friends as they had been then. One lingering question had followed them back from Uaxbal Itza. The question of a game that had turned out not to be a game, of an issue Karel had decided he would no longer involve himself in for the sake of all. It was Sofiya’s issue to sort out now, and Karel was confident of what choice ultimately she would make. He had felt it in his heart -- in her heart.

But still --

Having the question hanging over him like a shadow was not pleasant. It wasn’t a shadow of doubt, granted. But it was a shadow that wanted him to doubt, that wanted to taunt him with doubts if it could. All the time in Pequeño, Karel had kept mostly to himself, trying to avoid facing it, hoping it would be settled for him. But of course, in the rush of celebration and official case closing, that could not happen. So it traveled back to El Cuyo, and all through the six-hour bus ride, Karel again kept to himself, mostly just staring out the window at the changing countryside, waiting.

And in El Cuyo, as they said goodbye to John Karver and the last of the others, as people tended their wounds and settled into the mundane patterns of a day, Karel kept his distance and his silence. And waited.

It finally came to a head a short while after their return. It was coming on towards supper time, but there wasn’t much food in the house. Karel decided to take one of the golf carts downtown to get dinner. He was back by sunset, with a bag full of fish tacos and a fresh bottle of rum and another of tequila.

But the house seemed empty. Tony was still off painting, as he had been most of the day. Sofiya and Hebert were gone.

Karel couldn’t help it. His heart sank a little at the thought, even though he couldn’t know for certain they were together or what they were doing.

But still--

He sat down alone in the kitchen, ate a couple of tacos and drank several shots of tequila with a little lime squeezed in it. The sunset colors faded from the sky. Night arrived. He thought, They’ll come back soon. Someone will come back soon. Maybe it would be Tony, wanting to chat, maybe play some cards or watch a movie. Maybe it would be them.

Karel put the rest of the tacos in the refrigerator. On an impulse, he picked up the bottle of tequila and left the house. Before him was the sea just beginning to catch the silver reflection of the rising moon. He had a choice of directions, left or right, but neither of them offered him any guidance. He turned at random and walked.

His steps took him into the dunes covered by tall grasses. After a while he sat down on a sandy hillock facing the ocean. The whisper of the surf and the wind in the grass filled the evening. The air was mild and warm, but Karel, dressed in one of those loud tropical print shirts and swim trunks for shorts, was chilled by a bitterness that came from within.

He couldn’t help it. He blamed Hebert for his unhappiness now. He had said on the Titanic that the game had to be over, yet the Maurepasan had pursued it anyway, and in a way that had only rubbed Karel’s nose in the matter again and again. As usual in such things Karel had publicly laughed off the moves of his sexual rival, but that private thought -- pest -- lingered, expressing the annoyance and distrust Hebert’s dogging of Sofiya, right in front of Karel many times, had engendered. And now they were off at it -- now of all moments.

You don’t know that, he told himself, only to answer himself, Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I know it.

Karel had nothing to do but sit and wait and try to drink away the conflicting emotional thoughts warring in his mind. Try to drink away the vision of her with the flush of passion still in her cheeks and the scent of another man on her body. Try to drink away the urge to just leave, somehow make his way to the nearest airport and go home to escape a rivalry he had promised he would not pursue or force. Try to drink away the desire never to see his “good friend” Hebert ever again. And try to stave off with tequila the inevitable calculation of just how long he would sit on that dune and wait to find out if it was safe to go back. He didn't want to go back now and risk that painful embarrassment. But likewise, he didn't want to run away and pray for time and distance to heal it all. So he just sat and drank and waited, though for what he did not know.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

It wouldn’t be the first nor only time they hadn’t shared a bed at night, but this time was different, and she knew it. The alternative didn’t seem right. Going from the arms of one man straight to another, regardless of the context or situation, was not something she would do. It would be an insult to both, and no doubt hurt the man she still needed to clear the air with far more than simply giving one another the space of a night.

She was hungry, but she put that aside in the interest of avoiding any uncomfortable discussions on any side of things so soon after. The complexity of the situation irritated her, granted, but she’d helped to create the mess. And now she had to clean it up to the best of her admittedly limited abilities. Her solution hadn’t been ideal. Come to think of it, her solutions when it came to unfamiliar territory rarely were.

That he’d know wasn’t a question. What he’d choose to do about it in the end, in spite of those hints of understanding, was. Things were always different in theory than in reality, after all. It was something she was learning the hard way – the only way her grandmother had always claimed she learned things. It wasn’t so bad when she was the only one affected, but that hadn’t been the case this time.

Had the situation been different, she’d have gone out to see who was where, to make sure everyone had eventually gathered in to the house they’d been sharing. They were all dealing with things in their own way. And while she had never been one to ascribe to the idea that time healed all, pushing things right now felt like the wrong thing to do. She wouldn’t know how to explain it to Tony were he to ask. She didn’t want to backtrack with Hebert or inadvertently give any wrong impressions from where she’d left things. And Karel …

Toweling her hair as dry as she could, she braided it loosely, and slipped into a soft set of long pajama pants and a loose tank top. Sofiya half walked to the door of her room, one hand resting on the doorknob before frowning and letting her fingers slip free of it as she turned back to her bed and curled up on top of it with her back to the door. Sleep would come, or it wouldn’t, but whatever the case save fire or flood, she kept to her room the rest of the night waiting for the morning to come.

[Muravyets]

By the time the moon had crossed the sky and begun to descend towards the other horizon, Karel was pretty drunk. To his annoyance, however, he was not drunk enough to forget the embarrassing awkwardness of his situation, nor how cold tropical nights could get by the seashore, nor how likely it was that rain would come through before dawn. In fact, rather than help him forget, drinking had only caused him to remember other things he had failed to think about -- things about himself and his own short-term future, debts from the Maurepas case that were yet unpaid. Hebert was not the only question mark hanging over Karel, but in the immediacy of this one, he had let himself forget about the other. Now, through the physical haze of the tequila, his memory dredged up the fact that, one way or another, he would have to go home soon, in a few days at most, before the moon was full again. Home to pay the piper for an oath broken.

He put the cap back on the bottle and rose with careful balance to pick his way slowly back to the house, where he sincerely hoped he would not run into anyone. When a person is really drunk, that is not the opportune moment to address fresh resentments. But he was damned if he'd let Yucatan rain on him again. That much he could control, at least for what was left of this night.

The house was dark and silent when he got there. Karel saw the door of Sofiya's room closed. He put the tequila down on the coffee table and did the same, going to his own room and shutting the door. He fell into a kind of sleep immediately, but it was a shallow and unrestful kind, full of thoughts that he wouldn't rightly remember in the morning, and it ended abruptly at dawn, while the light outside was still a bluish-gray, not fully lit by the sun.

For a little while, Karel lay still, listening to the birds. But he had to pee, and his head was splitting, so he got up. A short, hot shower, pajama pants, painkillers, and then he padded into the kitchen of the as-yet quiet house to make coffee. While the fragrant brew burbled in the maker, Karel prepared a drink of tomato juice, lemon juice, and hot sauce to cure his hangover and took it out to the patio. He lay down on a chaise and consumed the curative drink in healthy, grimacing gulps, trying not to obsess again over future conversations with whoever might wake up next.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Coffee. Someone was up and had coffee going. She could have tried to cheat, to see who it was up and about, but it wouldn’t make any difference in the end. Morning had come, and whatever happened would happened, just as she’d told herself the night before. She drug her feet a bit during her morning ablutions, unconsciously putting off the inevitable. Her words about being judged by others seemed a bit hollow, when it wasn’t everyone else she was concerned about, it was her friends. The only close friends she counted these days. She told herself she hadn’t seen another way through it all, not if she were going to try to treat the situation fairly, not if she were to settle things definitively. But whether or not any of they would understand was anyone’s guess.

The confidence she’d had the night before that things would work out fine had lessened during the night, having missed the sounds of any returns. It was too late now to change anything, even if she’d wanted to. After taking the time to brush through her hair and rebraid it again more neatly, she finally opened the door to her room, peering out into the hall before heading quietly to the kitchen. There was coffee, sure enough. And the only indication as to who had prepared it was an open bedroom door.

She sighed quietly, taking out the cream and sugar to pour herself a cup. Sofiya usually wasn’t one to drink early in the morning. In fact, aside from times like their first night here in El Cuyo, she rarely drank much at all, save socially. This morning she made an exception, adding a healthy dose of Amaretto to the mix, then talking a slow sip as if that could help bolster her resolve.

What she held on to were those feelings, those insights she’d gained while they were so intimately joined back there at the pyramids, searching desperately for answers and a solution. There’d been clarity there, security. Its what she’d based a good deal of her choices on in the end, while understanding there were no guarantees, and nothing said it would be easy in spite of it all.

So it was with a mix of feelings that she eventually made her way out to the porch, her bare feet making hardly a whisper on the floor. She watched him for a moment, recognizing the drink in his hand with a grimace. Yes, he knew. Somehow she’d hoped to avoid a good deal of that, though the how had escaped her during the course of things. There was simply no putting it off any longer, any more than she could have put off speaking to Hebert the night before, however the discussion may have ended.

“I’d ask how you slept, but I think the answer’s obvious,” she observed, finally stepping outside, and leaning up against one of the posts supporting the roof as she looked out across the white sand to the ocean beyond.

[Maurepas]

Hebert was roused awake by Sofiya leaving. He was unsure what she said, or what he'd said or done afterward, but after he regained his mental faculties he simply sat in the sand. He desperately wanted a Cigarette, but he'd left those in his room at the house.

As he looked out across the water into the moonlight it became apparent that William Hebert had no direction. He briefly considered getting a bottle of anything really and trying to drown his mixed emotions away. It wasn't that he was unsatisfied, she was everything he'd wanted and more, but outside the moment, his pent up energy spent, cold logic and fear began to enter his mind. In the end he decided he didn't know where any alcohol was, and was too afraid of running into anyone to go get any.

It was some time before he decided to go straight to his bed. Gathering and clothing himself he marched up the sand, rain beginning to pelt his face, back to the house. Making it to his room on the upstairs floor, he grabbed his cigarettes and walked out on the balcony, he didn't feel like he'd be able to sleep well on it now. Last time he'd slept on that bed, he'd had friends, and a direction, and despite Sofiya's assurances to the contrary, he realized that in hanging it all on her like he had for stability, he had alienated his friends, and possibly his only hope for said stability in his life.

Lighting up, he sighed out smoke. Just when it seemed his life was on the rebound, he gambled it away on a false hope. He was making a habit of that as of late. And worst of all, despite vowing to defend his boss(how long he'd consent to remaining his boss was anyone's guess) he'd probably wounded him greater than any mortal man had ever done. Worse, he'd possibly destroyed what had once been a happy and beautiful relationship.

A passing thought of panic entered his mind, and he got the urge to run from all of it, maybe with him entirely out of the picture perhaps the latter could be salvaged yet. But he had nowhere to go, it may not have been his most depressing thought, but it was certainly putting up a fight for the top 20 or so. If he went back "home" he'd be a dead man, of course, if he stayed here he could be a dead man, he'd seen more than one of these things end that way.

In the end he sighed again, putting out the cigarette. He couldn't do that, at the very least he owed Karel the chance to kill him if he wished. And he wouldn't cower from it, he was never the type not to lay in a bed he'd made. Even if it wasn't anything at all like he'd pictured it would be.

If only I'd gotten my hands on some of that gold, was his last bitter, ironic thought before passing out into fitful, exhausted sleep...

[Muravyets]

“I’d ask how you slept, but I think the answer’s obvious,” she observed, finally stepping outside, and leaning up against one of the posts supporting the roof as she looked out across the white sand to the ocean beyond.


The sound of her voice brought an immediate flush of pleasure to Karel, as he lay with his eyes closed and the mostly empty glass in his hand. Regardless of any awkward moments, the fact remained, he was hers and he wanted to be so, no matter what. All he had find out now was where being hers would take him next.

He sighed and nodded. She was right, it was obvious how he had slept. He quickly drained the last of the cure-all, shuddering as it went down. The dose of vitamins in it was starting to have an effect, as was the painkiller, helped along by the hot pepper dilating his blood vessels. In a minute he’d get some coffee and add that to the restorative mix. But all that was just for his body. For his relationship, he was less sure what would be needed.

Reflexively, he held out his hand towards her, or towards the sound of her voice since his eyes were still closed. As soon as he realized he’d done it, a wave of fear passed through him, as he waited to see if she would take it. Waited to see if the direction and definition of their relationship had changed. If that ill-considered gamble of days ago had paid off, or cost him dearly.

“You should know better than to drink too much,” she said softly, her tone gentle as she took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Never does anyone any good, that.”

Sofiya sat down on the edge of the chaise, quietly sipping her coffee for a moment as she too carefully watched for responses and clues as to what he might be thinking, thinking how ironic it was that they were being so careful now when days earlier it had been an effortless understanding.

Karel returned the squeeze strongly in relief at the feeling of it. He didn’t even answer her gentle remark. It was too obviously right to need a response. As she sat down, he shifted to make room. He set down the glass, and turned to put both his arms around her, resting his head against her side, almost as if he would settle down to sleep like that, though he was now wide awake. During the night, he had warred drunkenly with a thousand thoughts. Now, no words came to him. He was just glad that she was there. For the moment, he didn’t even think to ask her what she wanted to do that day, let alone about the future. Now was enough.

His actions spoke volumes, even if he didn’t say a word. She rested her arm gently around his shoulder, sipping her coffee with her other hand, glancing now and then out towards the ocean wistfully. She’d be sad to leave the idyllic little town. Nights would be cooler where she had to go. But she still had time. Now to try and explain all that.

“It’s that time of year,” she began carefully, trying to find the words without going into the sorts of details that always tended to upset her. “There’s something I need to take care of back home, by a certain date. It’s ... Nonna. And ... you know. I’ve got a couple weeks at least, tried to make allowances for the case and such in hopes we’d get it sorted in time. I know this isn’t fantastic timing, but it is something I have to do. And I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings once I do have to go.”

Karel slowly opened his eyes as he listened. He did know what she meant. That time of year... Was this the anniversary of ...?

“A couple of weeks,” he said, echoing her words. He tightened his arms around her, pressing his cheek against her breast. “I might not have that long, my love. I realized there’s something I have to do, too. Ideally, I should be in Muravyets by the end of the week, before the moon is full again. I have a debt to pay for ... things that happened in Maurepas. I thought perhaps this case would clear that account, but something told me last night that there are still things to be done. I have to answer for my actions. The longer I put it off, the steeper the price will get. Of course, I wish I could be there for you in the Dominion, but ... I get the feeling this is something you have to do on your own?” She nodded quietly, looking more than a little worried about his own problem. He sighed. “For the best, I suppose. You can’t really come along on what I have to do, either.”

She was again conflicted. She knew exactly what he was referring to, and though they’d moved past it, she’d never quite come to terms with her responsibility in all of it. They’d left it as it was, largely unspoken after their talk in the bayou. And now, here it was coming back to haunt, however poor a pun that was. Sofiya wasn’t sure what she could do about any of that, but there was one thing she hoped she could salvage, if nothing else turned out right.

He looked up at her, his hand gently caressing her hip and thigh. “The end of the week,” he said. “That’s still a few days away.”

“A few days is better than none. Time enough, perhaps, to mend anything that may have been broken over the past weeks,” she began carefully, watching him from the corner of her eye. “I don’t like what it sounds like you’re saying you have to do. And I know that won’t stop you from doing what you feel you have to, nor should it. But before you go, before things sit for too long, there’s things that likely need said, or done, or at least acknowledged. I’m afraid its going to tear you two up if you don’t. And damned if I know how it ought to all work.”

Karel nestled closer against her, perhaps to hide the slight frown that crossed his brow. He had been dreading the idea of talking with Hebert. All night, he had been failing to think of anything to say to him that did not start and/or end with “you bastard.” But Sofiya was right. One way or another, Karel was not ready -- or not willing -- to cut Hebert out over this.

With a small growl, he muttered, “Oh, all right.” He raised himself up to a full sitting position and ran his hand over her hair and over her cheek, as he leaned towards her lips, whispering, “But kiss me first, my love.”

“Only if you promise not to kill him,” she said, already leaning in for that kiss, wrapping her arm around him tightly, while holding her not-quite empty mug away from them with the other.

“I promise, I promise,” Karel sighed, melting against her lips, breathing in her scent and her taste. His arm tightened around her, holding her as close as she held him, as his other hand slid down her arm to take the coffee mug and put it down on the tiles so he could pull her even closer.

Several delicious moments later, sighing and impatient, Karel reluctantly broke the embrace, ending it in a series of small kisses.

“Hrm, suppose I’d better get it over with,” he said. In any event, an idea had occurred to him.

She arched a brow, noting the change in expression. “You promised ...” she reminded him, her brow creasing in a frown as he got up.

“Yes, I promised.” He bent for one more quick kiss, then went into the house, in search of Hebert. His idea, in fact, did not involve killing, and if Hebert proved amenable, it might be a way out of this mess. Possibly. Or it might lead to Hebert deciding never to go near Karel and anything connected to him again. Either way...

He found the Maurepasan in his bedroom, asleep. The last time Karel had awakened him to talk about Sofiya, he’d used his boot. This time, the bed wasn’t the right height and construction, so instead, he merely called his name.

“Hebert, wake up.”

Despite his restless fits the effects of exhaustion and several nights of sleeping on the ground, leaky boat, all the celebrations and official business in Pequeño, and then a whole day, nearly, on that rickety bus took its toll on him. Meaning that by morning he was fast asleep on the bed in his room of the El Cuyo house. And if there was anything he was expecting, it certainly wasn’t to hear Karel waking him up in the morning.

Brief panic ensued and he instinctively had thoughts of going for the nearest weapon, but the fact that his boss seemed to be standing there peaceably enough slowed him, “"Mrrhhm...just can't let a man sleep, can ya?"

“You can go back to sleep in a minute,” said Karel curtly. “I just want to tell you that I’m going to Muravyets at the end of the week, and you should come along. I have something I need to do, and I think you should do it with me.”

Me? What the hell? was what went through his head once the initial shock wore off, and he regained his mental faculties, things were getting weirder and weirder for him this morning, What is this, some sort of Bizarro-World?

“Uh, yeah, sure patron, anything.” he finally managed to spout out.

“Good,” said Karel. He turned to leave, pausing briefly to add, “There’s coffee, if you want any.” The “you bastard” went unsaid as he walked out of the room. Stopping in the kitchen, Karel ran through his mind what lay ahead in Muravyets. Maybe I should ask Tony along, too, he thought, as he poured himself a cup and returned to the patio, where he had left Sofiya.

“All done,” he announced, finding her sitting tensely on the chaise. He took a deep, bracing drink of the delicious coffee. “Now, where were we?”

Sofiya’s expression was one of skeptical hopefulness - a decidedly odd mix at any occasion. She hadn’t heard anything to suggest ... She chugged the last of her coffee, and the heavy dose of Amaretto she’d added to it, and set the mug aside, focusing on the comfortable warmth the beverage sent through her.

“I think we were sitting here watching the sun finish rising, like any normal couple of people might,” she offered, somewhat curiously. He hadn’t asked what had happened between she and Hebert. She figured she owed him at least the same courtesy here.

“Ah, yes, right, the sun rising.” He took another swig of the coffee, set the mug aside, and sat down next to her. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her again, deeply and passionately. “Mmm... the sunrise...”

Sofiya breathed a quiet sigh of relief after the initial kiss, melting in against him, telling herself everything was going to be ok.

Karel also put aside all worries, as he caressed her with kisses, his hands moving over her hair and her body. They had only a few days together before he had to go home and pay the piper, as it were. He did not intend to spend them fearing the future.



A joint Maurepas/Muravyets/Nathicana production.