Don't Stay Dead

Chapter Five

Through a combination of good timing, sheer luck, and a sprinkling of compulsion, by next sunrise I was settling down in my new bed. Someone had taken one corner of the empty second floor above a laundromat and turned it into a large studio. It was very cheaply done, and you could tell the contractor was an amateur, but honestly it was twenty times better than the place I had just moved out of. They weren't charging much because they couldn't keep tenants above the noisy 24-hour laundromat, but I wasn't in a mood to be picky.

Once I'd signed the lease, gotten my key, and compelled my way into paying my deposit in installments, I went home and packed the few things that mattered into a large duffle bag. After I cleaned all traces of myself from the apartment I slid the key under the landlord's door, in a plain envelope that only had my apartment number on the front of it. Most people moved out this way in this building, so it was nothing out of the ordinary.

The best part about the new place so far was the fact that the shower stayed at the temperature I set it at originally, and I took my first shower there with visible relief. I would have to do more work to sun-proof the rest of the place, but at least I had enough material to block off and protect my sleeping area. After the sun went down, I would go searching through thrift shops for things I would need.

I'd die before I admitted it out loud, but I really loved the brick and industrial look and feel of the place. I had always wanted to live in an apartment like this when I had a pulse. Granted, I wanted it to be fancier, because I'd be able to afford it, but still, I'd take what I could get. I was a bit wary about the fact that they couldn't keep tenants, but I did have some advantage if the problem was human. If it truly was the noise and aftermath of the business itself, then, I'd figure that part out later. It would also be nice to just carry my laundry downstairs and get it done, rather than lugging it for blocks to the closest place.

I thoroughly enjoyed spending the next three days thrifting. I probably bought way too many things for someone who hadn't even gotten their first official paycheck since becoming undead, but I did have a fair bit stashed away that I'd finessed out of my criminal victims. Enough to be going on with, anyway. Part of me really did have that 'I've just moved to a new city with nothing to my name and I'm starting over and I love it' vibe going on.

I was loving every minute of it, too. It made me feel way better than the shit with John probably ever could. I felt grounded, like I belonged, not like a dust mote in the wind. I was still ready to bolt at any second, so that wasn't an issue. There might come a time when I found it hard to run, and yeah, I'd have to deal with that when it came. But I was smart, and I knew how to cover my tracks. I didn't think it would be an issue, unless I got sloppy or stupid.

Mrs. Smith was quite pleased that I decided to take the position. She immediately took after me like a mother hen, taking me under her wing and getting me all set up with a locker, badge, scrubs, and a million lessons about how the hospital works that she didn't give the volunteers. I found it amusing, so I simply smiled and let her go on with it. If it kept her happy and kept the peace, I'd deal with it until she got bored and moved on to someone else.

I celebrated the three month anniversary of John's death by visiting my old cafe, dressed as the honey blonde with pale green eyes that I liked to call 'Lisette'. I bought a coffee and pastry to go, then simply sat in the place and read a book while pretending to drink. I liked the old familiar smells and feels of the place, and listening to the regulars prattle on about their lives like they always had. I wasn't sure if it was closure, or connection, I was looking for. Maybe just a bit of the familiar. Either way, it was a nice way to spend a night off, instead of being holed up in my apartment.

Don't get me wrong, I loved the little hidey-hole I'd managed to create in such a short time. I just felt restless tonight. It was probably because Mark was still being stubborn. Had I never seen him at the crime scene, I would have thought he was a saint now. It was so confusing it made my head hurt just to think about it. Which, thinking about it now was indeed starting up the headache again, so I laid the book down and started rubbing my temples for a minute. Weird that a vampire could get headaches, but we did indeed still feel pain, don't doubt that for a minute.

Of course, this distraction meant I didn't see the next few people who entered the cafe, and I wasn't really in the mood to care. That was, until I heard Lindsey speak.

"Hey, Detective. You want the usual tonight?" She asked, tone subdued.

"Yes, thank you Lindsey." Wes responded, just as subdued, and I had to resist the urge to bonk my head on the table. Not only would that make my headache worse, but it would also draw undue attention to me. Rolling my neck, I packed up my meager belongings, tossing the empty cup in the bin on my way out the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that he had a bouquet of flowers, much like the ones he'd left at the grave that one time I'd visited mom's grave.

Once outside I turned to the left and headed about a block down, where I knew there was a homeless man who camped in that alley. "Hey Harry, how's luck tonight?" I asked, and he looked at me crookedly. I smiled faintly. "Here, I was at the cafe and bought myself a pastry, but then after my coffee I realized I wasn't hungry anymore. It's still sealed and everything, I promise it's not been tampered with." I said, holding up the package.

His eyes lit up and he held his hands out. I smiled and handed it to him, before I walked away, whistling. A thought struck me though, and I found myself coming to a halt. Suspicion wormed its way into my brain, and I found myself sprinting to the cemetery on a hunch. I didn't honestly believe he was actually coming here, or that the flowers were for her grave. They probably were for his wife or fiancee or significant other. No, I was coming here to make sure that he wasn't coming here. Did that make any sense?

I made it there in record time, and made my way silently to the headstone, only to find that I couldn't find it at first. It took me a couple minutes to figure out that the headstone had been changed, and I crept closer to find that someone had taken my mother's single name headstone and turned it into a double, with my name etched on the other side. The noise that escaped me defied all description. Had he ordered this? Had he paid for it? It was new, and I didn't know of anyone else who possibly would have. Why?

A sound jerked me back to attention. It was just a nocturnal bird, but that reminded me that I was actually here for a reason. Quickly, I made my way back to the tree I had perched in before, and carefully nestled myself in its branches to wait and watch. An hour went by and I was starting to wonder if I was wrong after all, and I felt a sad yet relieved smile start to cross my face. Then, the wind carried his scent to me, and I felt my eyes close of their own accord.

"Oh, what are you doing, Wesley?" I whispered to myself, as I watched him make his way to the new gravestone. He stood before it for several moments, before he crouched down to lay the flowers in the middle. I heard him inhale, and sigh.

"Hey, Nika. I went through your files and computer, but I couldn't find any will or last wishes, so I did the best I could for you." He paused, and gave a small chuckle. "You know, if you were here watching over me..." he paused again, shaking his head. "After reading all the drafts of potential books you had, I imagine you'd be so pissed at me for this. You'd probably be telling me that there's so many other things to spend my money on, and people who need it more, and blah blah blah." He sighed, and rose.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But you didn't have anyone to take care of you at the end, and this is something I could do for you. I've had to let so many others just go with nothing, it feels nice to do something for at least one of you. In a way, I feel like in doing this for you, I am doing it for all of them, past, present, and future. I think maybe you could appreciate the symbolism, at least. It's a shame you never got to finish your books, I think you could have made a great author." He pulled out his phone, and I could sense a hint of frustration as he looked at a text he had just received.

"Well, apparently there's no rest for the wicked. I may not be able to visit you every week, but I will try. I hope you're doing well, wherever you are." He bowed his head at the last, then solemnly walked back the way he came after a few moments of silence. I waited until he had been gone for several minutes, before I dropped down and walked over to the grave. I didn't touch the flowers this time, but I did bend down to smell them.

"Oh Wes, I wish you'd just forget me and move on. All things considered though, it's still probably too fresh for you." I said, sighing. "Perhaps this will help you get the closure you need, and you'll eventually spend less and less time here. You have a brilliant life ahead of you, Wes. Please don't get stuck in the past. Live your life, find someone to love, and move on. Please." I said, closing my eyes in the closest semblance to a prayer that I could get. Shakily, I sighed, before kissing the tips of my fingers and hovering them over the headstone. Then, I turned and made my own way home.