Above the Shop -- Pilot Street

        Neither cramped nor spacious, this living area has been divided up
by the strategic placement of a few dressing screens. A hodge-podge of
Salvation Army furniture decorates, looking old, worn and comfortable, if
seriously mismatched. Beanbag chairs share the floor with a mound of
pillows, a rocking chair, an easy chair and an oversized chair that could
easily fit two. A coffee table is covered in knick-knacks, papers and
other assorted clutter. The walls, thus far, are relatively bare, and no
carpet covers the scratched wooden floor. A single door leads to the
bathroom, though a laundry basket seems to have overflowed there, and
apparently desires a dirty clothes domination of the apartment, beginning
with the bathroom. The kitchenette is clean and bare, and if one explores
the refridgerator, they'll find an odd assortment of condiments, but
little actual food.

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                               Today's Weather:

It's an average summer day. It's generally hot, about 90 degrees F. The
sky is half cloudy, half warm blue and sunshine, just enough light and
shadow to keep things pleasant. It's the kind of day that makes kids itch
to get out to the pool, and causes adults caught indoors to glance out
their windows with longing. The perfect day for tanning, swimming,
baseball, or bar-b-que.

******************************************************************************



Windows and doors are open; Sera's not expecting Ray today, so she's
perfectly fine with leaving things completely unsecured. She only barely
remembers do to it when he's going to show, and only then because she
doesn't want him worrying. Alternating between abject terror of the things
in this town and completely glossing over and forgetting about them, the
dark-eyed woman needs to work on her consistency. Gracie's still feeling
ill, and Sera's resolved to take her to the vet's tomorrow if she's not
perked back up to her usual self. Tiny pup is curled up on Sera's bed,
where she's really not allowed, but hey. She's not feelin' well, so she
gets spoiled. Singing along to music and redecorating, Sera looks to be in
a pretty perky mood; she's expecting company, so she hasn't torn the
living room apart. Too much, anyhow. "...please can you tell me, so I can
finally see... Where you go when you're gone..." Ah, yes, the pop wonder
that is Michelle Branch. Sing! Sing! Sera's pretty loud, and not bad at
all, full of a raw talent--but, well. Pop. Hee.

Kitty's her usual quiet self on the stairs, pausing halfway up to knock on
a patch of wall - as ever. "Sera? Gracie? Hey, people..." Quiet up till
she calls, anyway. She's got that backpack over her shoulder again, as so
frequently, and she shifts it a little as she keeps climbing. More slowly
now, waiting for an answer, but not quite so cautious about visiting when
Sera's had advance warning of company. "How're things going?" It's been a
little while since she's been - but she's not fond of alarming Sera;
better to let the bruise on her jaw fade first. It's hardly noticeable by
now.

Perk! Kitty! Sera calls, "C'mon up! You thirsty?" She turns down the music
but is still almost dancing about, looking happy. So happy. Her dark eyes
hold nearly nothing of the absolute terror that's visited this house in
the past few days. Sera's so good at denial; it's such a grand thing,
really. Of course it is. The apartment's not in /too/ much disarray; she's
neglected it a lot in favor of getting the shop going, however, so now
she's got to get it looking a little less cluttered. "Things are going
pretty well," she says, smiling as she goes to welcome Kitty in. You know,
pretty well considering I nearly killed Ray with some awful news and I'm
so /angry/ with John Constantine I could /spit/ and all the things I know
about Marley are picking my brain apart, piece by piece. Pretty well.
She's smiling though. Smiling and bright and so cheery. When did she get
to be such a good actress? There isn't even strain around her eyes; she
looks... healthy. Even if too damn thin to be pregnant.

"In this weather? D'you have to /ask/?" The response is almost laughing,
fairly honestly so, and Kitty's grin is real. Angry with Constantine,
check, upset and just a little desperate over Marley, check, nervous over
Chinatown, yes, tied in knots over half a dozen things, but dammit, that's
not going to get in the way of keeping a promise or being pleased to see a
friend. "You're looking good," she adds as she tugs her backpack around
and removes from it a smallish blue insulated pack. The kind people might
carry lunch in. It's offered to Sera without explanation. "How's Ray? And
Gracie?" There's no terrier getting in the way: terribly odd.

Mrr? This would be...? Sera takes the pack as she's headed to the kitchen,
pulling it open and looking at it oddly. Could this be doggie ice cream?
Or something /really/ weird? "How's lemonade sound? Or I have iced tea,
too," Sera says, pulling out glasses. "Uh.. Ray's pretty stressed with
work, and the, ah..." She clears her throat. "Marley." Ahem. Sigh. "But
otherwise..." Sera looks back at Kitty and can't help but smile; it's
spreading over her cheeks, slowly, sweetly. "He's as happy as a clam; he's
gonna have a little baby girl soon." Hee.

And Gracie gives a yelp of greeting, her tiny nubbin tail whapping against
the bed weakly. Love me? Love the good girl. So tired. Snf. Want love. Her
brown eyes watch the world, fairly listless. Sigh.

"Our /first/ baby, however," Sera says gently, "is feeling under the
weather, I think."

Cheers for the first guess! Little shallow cups of, yes, doggie ice cream,
calling themselves Frozen Paws. "Iced tea sounds gorgeous," Kitty admits,
drifting after Sera toward the kitchen. And then Marley's name comes up,
and there's a flicker of resigned half-tension - just for a moment. "Oh,
God, he doesn't have to deal with /that/, does he?" Is there anyone who
doesn't know about her now? - but ... the instant after that, Kitty's eyes
widen. "Baby girl? Oh, Sera." There's the grin again. Chaos happens, but
life goes on, and it's the /life/ part that's the important one. "That's
wonderful. So you - um - know for sure?" It's not that she's really
hesitant; it's that she's not all that sure how to deal with quite that
much happy.

Yelp from the other room, then, and Kitty glances over her shoulder, off
toward the bedroom. "She's not too bad, I hope," she says, more than a
touch worried. More than 'under the weather' and a tired yelp really
warrant. "Maybe it's just the heat?"

Aw. Ice cream right into the freezer, and Sera brings back the little blue
cooler bag, handing over a tall glass of iced tea, heavy on the ice.
"Marley's his... ah... his sort of adopted... ah.. daughter," Sera says,
looking awkward. "It's a complete clusterfuck, really," she notes, rubbing
at her eyes. "What with Kess, and John, and Lindsey, now. She saved my
life that night. In the, ah.. in the alley. God, I should've /said/
something. She punched -through- a guy, right in front of me. Said she was
gonna--" And here Sera mimic's Marley's old accent with odd accuracy,
"--'prateck dis city'." Guh. Sera glances to Kitty, looking apologetic.
"So in the midst of joy, we've got heartbreak and terror, and vice versa.
I've given up having any idea how to feel, lately," she says. "Mood
swings, and it's not even pregnancy related, you know?" she jokes,
chuckling slightly.

"And, yeah, I think it's just the heat. At least.. that's what I'm
hoping," Sera says. "She's just been pretty listless lately. Doesn't want
to go on walks or anything; likes to sleep an awful lot." Sera crosses to
the puppy and coos at her, reaching to pet and give love, offering smiles
and sweetness. My poor Gracie. "You're a tired girl, huh? Yeah, my Gracie.
S'okay, we'll take you to the vet if you're still feelin bad tomorrow,
okay? Yeah, my Gracie."

The little blue cooler bag goes right back into the backpack, lest Kitty
be tempted to turn it inside out and cuddle the cool part. She takes the
glass with a grateful look, listening. "Nobody knew," she says, fairly
gently. "We'll do what we can, all of us, and there's a pretty good chance
we'll be able to -" In the middle of the sentence Sera's mention of
Lindsey's name actually hits Kitty's consciousness, and her eyes flick
wider and her voice disappears for a moment. She half-covers it with a
cough, and a quick swallow of iced tea, and then picks up. "- to do
something for her. Somebody, anyway. Couple people working on it that have
pretty good chances." She glances down at the glass, looking wry. "Life's
kinda like that. You look like you've got a good handle on it? I mean -
you do what you can, where you can, and when something's more than you can
work with, you can either panic about it and drive yourself into the
ground and get useless to you and everyone else, or you can pay attention
to the things you /can/ handle. The baby and Ray and the store and
Gracie..." Her smile flickers up, shows, lingers, though there's a little
strain. "Things are always breaking. The trick is learning to be happy
about the good parts anyway. And oh my God am I babbling."

That strain increases just a little as she comes to join Sera and Gracie,
her free hand alternating petting privileges with Sera. Poor little girl.
Poor little ... She flicks a glance up at Sera, asking softly, "What vet
do you go to, anyway? I mean, where are they?" Brief images in the back of
her mind, not-real, real.

Sera looks to Kitty and sips at her drink, wiping at her eyes briefly. I'm
not crying. And I'm not thinking about Marley's messy death at my hands.
Not much, anyway. "She... she cut off his hand," Sera whispers, the words
so very hard to get out. "And he ... his place. He's moved out." Sighing,
Sera sits to the bed and tightens her lips. "Yeah... I just feel selfish,
worrying about me me me... when this city's really, ah... well it's...
things are seeming a lot rougher, lately." Sera only believes Kitty's
discomfort is from their discussion, surely no one is /that/ worried for
poor Gracie. I mean, she's kinda down, but not on her deathbed, right?
"It's a little place, near Ninestory? Doc Clement. That's where Archie was
taking Gracie--I think that's where he /got/ her, actually, from one of
the vet's other patients. Gracie loves Doc, don't you girl?" And with
that, Gracie rolls over to her side, uttering a low whine, and licks at
Kitty's hand, watching her almost intently.

Sera's half right: some of the discomfort /is/ from the discussion. Kitty
doesn't look up at Sera while the other woman's talking, nor down at
Gracie, just stares at the glass. She cut off Lindsey's hand. He moved
out. The news should not be hitting her hard enough to make her heart
race, nor to start that queasy feeling in her stomach. She barely knows
him, after all. Deep breath, and she leans to pull her backpack around
again: different pocket this time, and she draws out a plain envelope, the
faintly greyish, rougher texture of recycled paper, and hands it toward
Sera. "You might," she says softly, "wanna be careful." She sets the glass
down and ruffles the fur on Gracie's head gently. Good girl. You're a good
girl.

Bwuh? "Of... huh?" Sera looks so /very/ baffled, but sets down her glass
and takes the envelope to look it over, then opens it slowly, half
watching Kitty. She's lucky she doesn't get a papercut, but her hands are
just that deft. Her dark eyes are curious, wary, wondering, and they
devour all information on sight, hungry for more. "What're you talking
about?" she wonders as she looks.

And as for Gracie, she wriggles on the bed slightly, and whuffs, as though
sighing in either impatience or discomfort. Still waggling her tiny tail,
she remains adoring of Kitty, brownish eyes watching the woman with such a
light behind them. She's just a special dog, somehow.

"We got a visitor," Kitty says softly. "She wanted me to warn you to keep
away from Ninestory..." The folded paper inside is a sketch - rough at
best, Sera's the artist, but it's at least labelled. The street outside
Ninestory, the sidewalks, the gate. The path of a young woman, the
parallel path of a terrier - the curving trajectory of a car at speed,
intersecting with one and not the other as it turns. "I don't know /when/
she was seeing. It was cooler weather, grey. But the weather in this city
is crazy anyway. She said something about someone named Joey." Gracie /is/
special. Bright, brilliant - loved by a lot more than her 'parents.'
Kitty's hand smoothes the fur she just ruffled, protective.

Joey? "A visitor?" Sera says, her voice airy. She's staring at the sketch,
but one hand reaches to hold to Gracie, almost possesive. "Joey was Ray's
dog... when he was a boy," she whispers. "He.. he got hit," she says, and
looks up at Kitty with wide eyes, worried now. "A car hit him, and Ray...
he just... Gracie's the closest he's had, except for Dief, and he's gone
with Fraser," she sniffles, dropping the sketch to wipe at her eyes and
reach to lift Gracie into her lap, her arms and cling her close. "Who was
it?" Sera wonders. Who was your visitor?

Gracie doesn't squirm, but nuzzles into the embrace, even the squeezing,
goodnatured and so very calm. Such a unique dog.

Sometimes Kitty wonders whether there was any flicker of blue light
associated with Gracie's parentage. Right now, though, she saves wondering
for later, and folds her hand over Sera's thin shoulder instead. Skin and
bone, so fragile. You take care of your mommy, Gracie, okay? Kitty doesn't
lie to Sera, nor stall; her voice is quiet. "Claire."

Dark eyes go so very wide; Sera looks both intrigued and terrified, and
for a moment, there's a strange hiss-crackle of fear and power that
ripples through the room. It dissipates, however, and Sera murmurs,
"You... she... she came to see you?" Boggle. Not that Kitty shouldn't have
visitors.. but Claire? Aie. "Constantine let her out," Sera says, anger
flashing over her features. And then he LIED TO ME ABOUT IT. "He... Holmes
told me," she supplies, lifting a hand to rub at her face. "I don't think
she should be out and about, Kitty. She's so /unstable/. I... there were
times I know she was watching. Was there, through it. She's... there's
something not right."

"She came to see us," Kitty confirms quietly. "And I don't mind telling
you, she scared the /heck/ out of me." She knew the secrets we use to keep
each other sane. "But she didn't seem hostile. Disjointed, yeah, but not
overtly dangerous. I don't know. I wish Pete'd been there; he's a lot more
qualified with psychology than I am." Even for that moment, the flicker of
almost-nightmare, her hand didn't fall away from Sera's shoulder. The
other woman's power doesn't scare her half as much as it probably should.
"She's - receiving telepath, psychometrist, precog, all at once, and God
knows what else besides. I'm surprised she can keep track of what she's
seeing well enough to /walk/." She bites at her lower lip, glancing across
at Sera, and adds quietly, "You probably know her better."

"She sees... everything," Sera says, simply. "If I.. if I thought it were
possible.. I'd think she were God." She leans into Kitty's touch; it's so
nice to have human contact. "All the befores, all the afters, all the
might have beens, could have beens. Every. Single. Possibility," Sera
says, lifting her dark eyes to let them settle on Kitty. "All of them,"
she reiterates, as though trying to get the concept through her own mind.
"It's... I... It's /huge/," she murmurs. "Do you know where she went,
after?"

Lavender is /purple/. Kitty draws a breath, then shakes her head. "No. I'm
still trying to figure out what half of what she said /meant/ - she
could've thought she was telling me flat out what her plans for the next
year were, and I wouldn't've caught it." Might have beens, could have
beens. Lindsey. And /oh/, his /hand/. She swallows. "John might have a
guess, but," she forces humor into her voice, "if this is one of /his/
things, he'd rather get tortured on the rack than actually /tell/ anybody
anything before they absolutely needed to know."

She has to fight back a snarl as she says, "He /lied/ to me, about letting
her out. Lied to my face. I don't think he even cares to tell people when
they need it most." Sera looks away, so hurt, so /angry/. And then gave me
that heart. What's he trying to /do/ to me? Sigh. Sera murmurs, "I'm not
sure if I'm more afraid of her, or for her... she doesn't... she's not
malicious, but she could cause such horrors, by showing people things.
It's... like mine, maybe? But she seems so unwitting. Like she can't help
it at all, or hardly ever. I know she's still /there/. The little girl she
once was. I know she's still /in/ there. She... During one of the, ah..."
Sera tightens her jaw as she speaks, closing her eyes. "...sessions, with
Dr. Ballantine, she took me away from myself. Kept me from him. She's not
/gone/. Not as gone as he thought. But she's not all there."

Kitty reaches over with her other hand as well, touching Sera's for a
moment. "John Constantine," she says simply, "is a real bastard. I /like/
him - and if you ever repeat that to anybody but me or Pete, I'll, uh, do
absolutely nothing but get really annoyed and sulky for a while, but you
get the idea. But he is. I don't think there's anybody he wouldn't lie to,
including himself or you or /God/, if that's what he thought he needed to
do at the moment. And his ideas of what he needs to do get pretty screwed
up from time to time. I'm sorry." She lets her hand fall away as she sighs
in turn. "Claire - she's - definitely still there. Yeah. If this were a
couple of thousand years ago, we could just take her to Delphi or
something and she'd probably be perfectly happy. But I've got no idea what
to do for an oracle in /this/ century." And I am so terribly glad that she
helped you. And maybe now again, with this, with Gracie. "Any guesses?"

"We'd have to find her, first," Sera says, lancing her finvers through
Kitty's hand, unless their are objections. Gracie remains in her lap. Just
let me hold on. I have to hold on, or I'll fall away. "Ask her what she
wants, what she needs, maybe? I... I don't want her locked away, but I
don't know if she can survive this city, or vice versa, really." She looks
to Kitty and can't help but smile, grateful, warm. "You and Sei and
everyone have been so... perfect," she sighs, almost content.

No objections; Kitty keeps hold, gentle. She's good at that; she did it
through so much of the dream. "She'll probably find us, again," she
admits. "She doesn't want to be locked away. But there's - I'm not sure
there's any reason she needs to stay /here/. We'll have to work on it."
She gives a quick grin. "More long-term projects, I guess." And her hand
tightens on Sera's. "We can live with that. Nobody's /perfect/, Sera, but
we can try, right? And you pick pretty good friends." Almost laughing,
that last. Relieved. Maybe still a little scared, but it's not of Sera,
not for a long time now.

"I do," Sera says, pride suffusing her at that last remark. I do. I have
the most amazing friends. Gracie utters a brief yelp, and another whine,
wriggling in Sera's lap, but only to turn over. Poor me. The dark-eyed
young woman picks up her iced tea again and says, suddenly remembering,
"Oh! The, ah.. the third weekend in September... Think you can keep it
free?"

Poor Gracie. Kitty shifts one hand, not the one holding Sera's but the one
that was on Sera's shoulder, to rub the terrier's stomach very lightly.
"The - twenty-first? Far as I know. Is that the opening? Downstairs?"
Hopeful: real things, the real world. Building things.

"Yup," Sera says, still quite proud. "You and Pete are /very/ much
invited. Hell, everyone in the whole world is, really. If you can get
ahold of Jack and Kate before me, please tell them?" she asks. My life.
And I'm doing something with it. I'm getting there. "There'll be an
unveiling of some of my latest pieces, and food and drink and just... all
sorts of things," she says, a smile curling over her lips. Setting aside
the iced tea, Sera also reaches to lightly pet Gracie's belly. "Gonna take
you to the vet in the mornin', baby," she whispers. "I'll... Stay as far
away from that part of Ninestory as humanly possible," she murmurs.

"Kate's been out of town, I think," Kitty agrees, "but if I see Jack, I'll
tell him..." Food and drink and undoubtedly no alcohol, and - abruptly
she's looking forward to this much more than she was expecting. It's got a
/date/ attached. Doesn't that make it real? "And I'll tell Pete. And I'll
staple him to your downstairs if he tries to argue, so if you trip over a
grumbling Englishman that morning, don't be surprised, okay?" She squeezes
Sera's hand lightly. "Yeah. Maybe nothing'll happen, but - it doesn't hurt
anything to be careful." And Kitty glances up again, brown eyes meeting
twilight ones, abruptly almost hesitant. "Do you, um. Could you use a hand
with anything downstairs? Just setting up and all?" It's not what she
really wants to ask, but it's a way of easing toward it that doesn't
commit her too fast.

Ponder. "Could use some help with some shelving," Sera says. "And... some
stuff in the back room; there are things I've got to have moved, before
inspection--there's going to be a tea room, in the back," she reveals,
grinning faintly. "It's going to be such an odd little shop. All full of
oddities." She continues to alternate between petting Gracie and sipping
from her tea, so glad for the company.

Kitty gives a half-incredulous little grin. "A tea room?" That's just
/cool/. "You'd better be careful, or I might move /in/ down there. I, uh
-" She glances half aside, then down at Gracie; eventually she'll remember
she has a glass of tea, right there, set off to the side. Embarrassed, a
little. Nervous. "I was kind of wondering if I could trade favors, I guess
- help you out downstairs - there's, um." Or maybe she'll just pass out
from self-induced humiliation right there. "Something. Nevermind."

Bwuh? "Kitty what is it?" Sera wonders, reaching out to touch the other
woman's shoulder, suddenly the comfort, rather than the needing one. "Do
you need something?" she wonders, dark eyes open, accepting. "You know
I'll help you with anything," she promises, her voice warm, assuring, the
smile on her features remaining, so friendly.

Kitty glances up at Sera again, a little shy, almost laughing still, and
leans her head toward the hand on her shoulder. "It's, um - I /hate/ doing
this to you. I wanted to ask a favor. Except it's, uh, kind of ... sick
and morbid. 'M sorry. But it doesn't have to be now, or soon, or anything.
Anytime this year. There's, um. Somebody I need to talk to. Deal with.
Except he's kind of ... dead." She pulls her free hand back to fidget with
the ragged edge of her cutoffs, tugging at a stray white thread. "Can't
talk to him in the real world. But, um - if you were willing, if you could
-"

Dead. Huh. "I'll do anything I can, Kitty," Sera says, tears stinging her
eyes as she squeezes the woman's shoulder gently. "I've still got more
practicing that needs to be done but... I'm sure it can be soon," she
assures, warmth never leaving her voice. "I won't even make you lift heavy
objects for that one," she quips gently. "This... whatever it is inside
me, that gives me this... gift? This curse, this whatever it is. I want to
be able to use it for help. For comfort. For joy and creation and anything
that will make my friends happier. So if I can do that for you, it's as
much favor to you as it is me."

Oh, don't cry. Not over /her/ dead. Not when Sera already helped her with
so much - Kitty leans in, impulsive but still careful of Gracie, to hug
Sera around the shoulders. "So I'll /volunteer/ to lift heavy objects,"
she retorts, quick and relieved and warm. "It's not a curse, Sera. It's
/not/. We just don't have good names for what it is." She keeps leaned in
for a few more moments, close, before straightening. "I just - feel weird
asking. Like I should be walking around in all black and wearing ankhs and
moping in public with my wrist superglued to my forehead. But it really
does mean - if we can do it, it means a lot. Thank you. So much."

She can't help it; the image makes her utter a hiccup of laughter, and
Sera leans close briefly, smiling sheepishly. "We'll keep you away from
the ankhs and the superglue," she assures. "There's nothing morbid about
needing finality. Or about missing someone, or wanting an answer," the
dark-eyed woman says, her voice calm and collected. "Soon, definitely,"
she promises. "Anything you need."