Not With A Bang, But a Whimper

This can't be! It's impossible. No I refuse to believe it! Fey sat frantically staring down at the few papers in her hands. There it was, visible as the sun, but then again here in Washington Heights the sun was never visible. This must be the same. There was no way.
Of course it is. Just read it.
"That voice! Where is it coming from? Why? What is happening? Go Away!"
And yet Fey found herself looking at the pile of papers. Outside Fey heard the faint call of an ice cream truck, as if mocking the childhood Fey knew nothing of, and now wasn't sure she wanted to learn about.
"Stop it! My God! That Music!" Recently Fey had been blacking out more and more, to the extent she realized she couldn't call it spacing out. Things were slipping. Days were fading. People she saw were becoming vague figures in her mind, she knew she'd seen them, but she couldn't remember where. When she'd come to the shop today, the lava lamps were on. Fey never left them on. Finicky had become more distant from her as well. Choosing to stay at the apartment more often then not, and he hadn't had the same familiarity as he used to. On the counter the stack of papers Fey now held had been placed. After reading the first few lines on the top page, Fey had stopped reading.
"The patient shows that there may be far deeper conflicts at work within her. Apart from her outward personality, one which seems to be built entirely upon the joy of seeing others' misery, there is another, more delicate, personality that seems to wish to see only the good in every creature and object on earth. It seems that some childhood incident led to this separation of essentially 'light' and 'dark'. However, whatever the cause, the dominant personality Lillith has been reluctant to share anything about herself, and it appears that the passive personality, who seems to not even have a name, doesn't even know of Lillith's existence, nor her situation."
Fey just sat and stared. What didn't she know? What had happened? Read on, it'll explain enough. The voice had been getting louder and louder, and harder to ignore. Fey didn't want to read on. She wouldn't. No. She slammed the papers on the table and ran out the shop into the street.

.......................................

Fey didn't know how she wound up at the chapel, or when memories started to come back. She sat there with her back against one of the walls of the chapel. Like the world around her it was cold to the touch. She leaned her head back against it, the tears she'd cried had mixed with the dust around her and created streaks of dark against the lightness of her skin. Just a few years ago Fey had left the hospital, but before that.......
"Fey I'm really impressed with the progress we've made. You seem to have really blossomed."
"Thank you Dr. Loomis. I appreciate your kind encouragement." Loomis smiled at Fey, the name she'd picked out seemed so appropriate.
That's right. He helped me pick the name out. Then later.....
"Without her intruding upon your life, I believe that you can live happily." It had been years since Loomis had such a promising patient. "Now, you know that after the session you probably won't remember most of you time here, if any. Anything you associate with her will be erased from your memory." Fey nodded.
"But I'll be free, right? No more of her mind games, she'll be gone. Asleep." A worried look crossed Fey's face. In the past all the various pills out to control this disorder had failed. Lillith always returned. She was just too strong.
"Yes, she should go to sleep. Now remember, there is no guarantee that she will remain gone. But if she will resurface, it is in her personality to resurface sooner rather than later."

Back in the present, Fey laughed.
"It was all part of her plan to get me comfortable and then take everything back. She's free. Nothing to stop her, the check-ups stopped a year and a half ago. The world is hers." Inside her head Fey heard a cold laugh. This was it. There could be no other way. Fey had failed in the past and would fail now, but maybe she could leave some goodness in the world.

Fey shut the door to her apartment and took the basket she carried to the elevator. She rode for a purpose today. On the 9th floor, Fey got off. She reached inside her and allowed her feelings to guide her. Outside apartment 982, she placed the basket full of candles and incense for luck and love.

Fey turned and went back to the elevator, perhaps for HER last ride.

Interlude II

Excellent, they're all here. Lillith riffeled through the papers in the envelope. They were all there, the hospital records, back history, paitient statements, treatment records from the institution, everything; even a photo. More important than them being there, though, was what she could do with them. Lillith had been tried for months to get Fey to notice her existance before she'd realized Fey didn't remember her. That's why getting the records was so important. When she chose to, Lillith would become dominant again and push that simple do gooder to the back with these papers. It would all flood back-everything, and then it would be over.

There was only one life up for grabs, and she would do anything to get it.

I Am Nobody, Who Are You?

Brrrrrriiiiinnnnnnggggggg. Brrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnngggggggg.
The phone rang, and rang, and rang, but Fey didn't feel like answering. Nobody ever worth while ever call here anyways, she thought to herself, as her normally straight and relaxed figure slumped in her chair. Wait! What am I saying? That's not like me at all. It was true. Over the last few days Fey had felt as though someone were watching her every move, or that she herself was in fact someone entirely different then who she thought she was. She shook her head and picked up the phone just an arm's length away.
"Hello? Yes, this is she. I'm sorry? No, I'm afraid I don't understand. No...I never made a call to your office. I'm not trying to be funny, I'm telling the truth. But.........I see. Well, I might as well. Thank you, Goodbye." Fey set the phone lightly upon its reciever and looked at Finicky.
"That was a lady from The City. Apparently, the files I requested are being sent to my mailbox at the appartment, no need to come in and pick them up. But, I don't recall requesting any files." Fey sat and pet Finicky for a few more minutes before returning to her work, incense today. Within a few minutes she was lost in a different world where her hands worked skillfully and deftly to make the alluring sticks and cones. Finicky, sensing something in the air, moved to the far corner.

............................................

"That should do it," Fey said wiping her hands on her skirt. She cleaned up and went out to take lunch, Finicky happily trotted along with her. On their way to the cafe at the end of the road, Fey stopped in to get her mail. There in her box was a plain manilla envelope. Inside was a paper with a single name written on it, Lillith Sparrow. Who are you? Fey wondered as she turned the paper over in her hand, and as if to answer her question a scrap fell onto the floor. Fey picked it up.

"I am nobody, who are you?"

Interlude

The woman's fingers ran over the counter, in the corner there was a slight whimper from the dog. It was silenced with a single look. Focusing back on the counter, she thought of how easy it would be to just smash this dirty little kitchen to bits, at least its contents. what measly existence this girl had chosen to live. No, I best not. The noise would likely wake her. The woman continued her prowl. She saw the book. As always, it was marked to John Donne, the only one in there by him.
"Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all the past years are,
Or who cleft the Devil's foot,"
I'll tell you where all the past years are, Fey dear. They're here with me.................... just like you.

Get With Child a Mandrake Root

"That's odd," Fey thought to herself as she analyzed the book she'd lost just a night earlier. Every page was there, Fey knew that. She had held the book so many times on so many days that she knew it was all there.
"Where could this have come from I wonder?" Fey placed her keys and bag on the table and walked over to the pillow she used as a type of couch, Finicky came over and laid his head on her lap affectionately.
"There's no way it was there when we left this morning, but there's also no way someone would, or could have known it was mine." Fey looked quizzically at the book again wondering how this could be.
Not that she was upset, quite the opposite. She had no memories of her life before three years ago. The first day she remembered she had woken up in a hospital bed and been told that who she was didn't matter, there was no past for her to go back to or try to resurrect. They had given her money, they said it was her "inheritance", but Fey had never really believed them. And this book. They had said that when she had been brought in, she had made them swear to return the book to her, it was extremely important.
Fey Mandrake wasn't even her real name. In the hospital, the nurses had told her that she acted as a fey child would, so she took the name Fey. As she flipped through the collection of poems, one by John Donne caught her eye especially as it seemed to relate to the fey child and a missing past, and from that Fey Mandrake was born.

Closing Time

Fey finally seemed to come out of her daze. She shook her head, what had she been thinking? She had noticed that her moments of spacing had been getting more and more frequent. Maybe I'm getting tired and should take a few days off? Fey looked at the many new candles cooling under the glass on her counter. Some of them quite pretty and complex with a second layer of different coloured wax in a spiral down it, perfect for combination magic. She had spaced out the previous day and made these. As she picked up a white and green one, Fey had a somewhat fuzzy memory of seeing an elderly lady earlier in the previous day. She'd seemed so sad, no more alone and in need of a friend. If I saw her, why didn't I invite her in, especially since it has been so cold lately. That's not like me at all. This thought worried Fey, though she didn't know why.
Patpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpat The sound of a fresh batch of hail brought Fey out of her thoughts. The sun was setting and Fey wanted to go home now. Because of the terrible weather, Fey had left Finicky at home, and without Finicky, Fey didn't even want to risk walking in the dark. She locked the door and opened her umbrella, no real help, but it offered comfort. As Fey walked down the road, she saw a large black van, without any sort of markings, make a turn down Baker St.. It reminded her of something, but what? Something somewhere in Fey's mind whispered remember, remember me, ever so faintly, but she still heard it. Fey's heart skipped a beat, could she finally be remembering? was the past returning? but try as she may, Fey couldn't get the voice to return, nor could she remember what the van reminded her of. Somewhere Fey heard a police siren in the nearby distance in both the city and her mind, what was happening?

And out of door hath showers, and mists, and sleet....

Bang! The branch smacking against the window outside startled Fey back into her reality. She had been sitting quietly thinking about nothing, staring would be the more appropriate term she supposed. The day, overcast as usual, hadn't really yielded much interesting events. She'd had a couple of customers in, one came in during a particularly satisfying stare and hadn't known (or wanted to say) what it was that she truely wanted, but Fey had placed her on the right path; although, she wasn't sure the path would lead where she wanted. Fey cocked her head towards the side, Maybe I should have left her be and not given what she wanted. In general, Fey's philosophy was live and let live, but sometimes she couldn't remember the Taoist ideals and "go with the flow".

Finicky walked back into the shop.
"Where had you got to? You know you shouldn't be out late with that woman about." Finicky just smiled at her.
"Looks like it's getting a bit dark, we should start heading back to the apartment, ok?" Fey got up and went about her normal motions of closing shop. When she reached the door, she checked her bag to make sure everything was secure in there, she'd spent most of her lunch checking for her poetry book, but couldn't find it or anyone who had seen it. Not even the young boy that she'd see periodically in the area had been able to tell her what may have happened to it.

Walking down the street, Fey periodically would have to hold her long hair down from the random gusts of wind, she disliked the wind at times like these when all it did was redden her cheeks, muss her hair, and make her cold. Finally, the pair reached the building and went inside. Fey had been planning to go straight home, but the lure of the elevator proved too much. She got in and pressed 7, a button she'd only pressed once before. The ride started. At one point the doors opened and Fey saw a lady, dressed questionably-not in fashion but occupation-looked into the elevator, made a face and went down the hall to the staird, Fey didn't think she had seen her, but only the other person. Fey stayed on the elevator for a few more floors. The elevator stopped at the bottom floor, and Fey and Finicky went back to their room and Fey almost tripped over something while walking in, a small bag with something in it. Upon opening the bag, Fey found a book of poetry with a part of Byran's poem Don Juan underlined:

An in-door life is less poetical;

     And out of door hath showers, and mists,
        and sleet,
With which I could not brew a pastoral.
   But be it as it may, a bard must meet
All difficulties, whether great or small,
   To spoil his undertaking or complete,
And work away like spirit upon matter,
Embarrass'd somewhat both with fire and water.