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The sullen, dark-haired man in the mirrorshades fixed the barmaid with a blank stare.
"Right, then. Um, just a beer."
There was a long, long moment of silence -- broken finally by the raucous wooden clash of resin ball against wooden pins. The beer-bellied bowling league a lane down stared with goggle eyes as Daniel Cassidy, better known as Blue Devil, pumped a fist and yelled "YES! STRIKE!"
Faust nodded. "That's right. Just a beer." He permitted himself an inward sigh. The barmaid was cute, in that low-rent-district sort of way: too much eye-shadow and too little foundation to cover that she got too little sleep. The uniform was a bit tighter than strictly necessary, showing off a figure a little on the ample side of 'supermodel'. But her smile had been genuine. She'd been trying to flirt with him. He was flattered, in a distant, intellectual sort of way. In a more visceral way, he was even grateful. But he brushed her off nonetheless.
He watched as her mouth turned down into a disappointed moue. He shook his head slowly as she turned and tottered off toward the bar on her high heels. "Sorry," he murmured under his breath. The sentiment -- insofar as he was capable of it -- was genuine.
"Did you *see* that?" Daniel crowed, returning to the molded plastic seat beside Faust. "Did you? Man, a *strike!*" His crimson eyes were alight, dancing with genuine joy. His mouth was turned up in an equally joyous smile, which was only slightly offset by the pointed fangs.
"Yeah, you're good," Faust nodded, marking the strike down on the scoring sheet. "You're gonna clear two hundred at this rate." He stood up, slowly, moving toward the ball-catcher to take his own shot. The rented shoes pinched his feet, and he was an abyssmal bowler, but he made the effort anyway.
Daniel Cassidy had -- until Faust had worked a little magic in Hell -- been dead and gone. Now he was alive again, and extremely pleased to be so. He was also extremely grateful to Faust for having returned him to life. And so, this boy's night out -- this male bonding experience -- was part of Danny's way of attempting to thank Faust for giving him his life back.
Faust stepped up to the markings on the floor, swung back, and let the ball go. It wobbled uncertainly for a few feet, tottered, then entered the gutter with a low THUD, before rolling slowly the rest of the way down the lane. "Another zero," he called back, flat-voiced to Daniel. He waited patiently, unmoving, for the alley's ball to return to him. He then lifted it, walked down the lane, and repeated the motions, almost exactly. This time, however, one lone pin dropped. ~The ten, I think.~ He then returned to shrug and smile in what he hoped was a sheepish manner at the chuckling Danny.
"You really *haven't* ever gone bowling before," Blue Devil mused, chuckling.
"I told you," Faust replied, settling into his seat. The waitress brought his beer. She hovered hopefully, but all Faust did in response was to tip her generously with a ten-spot. Her shoulders slumped, but she mustered up another genuine smile for the tip.
"Hey," Danny nudged him as he watched the waitress return to the bar again. "She's been hitting on you all night."
"Yeah," Faust agreed in a dull, tired tone. "I know."
"So --"
"So I 'm doing my best to discourage her."
Daniel's brow knitted in a frown. "Faust, kid, you gotta learn to enjoy life a little."
"Enjoy life?" Faust's tone remained the same flat tone it always was, even though his voice reduced to a whisper. "Dan, man, I know you're trying to help. And I appreciate it, but it's a *bad* idea."
Dan gusted a sigh. "Look, you don't have to act like you have no life--"
Faust cut his companion off. "I'm. Not. Acting. I *have* no life, Cassidy. None." He began to count on his fingers. "Okay, I'm allowing for the fact that you've spent the last couple years dead and didn't show up until right near the end of this whole Hell freezing over mess. One: If I show my face in public, the JLA is going to come down on my skinny arse like, well, the wrath of God. Two: I don't have a soul. Three: I'm a murderer. Four: I'm a black magician, even if I am a goody-goody by my family's standards." He gave a brief, mirthless laugh.
"Hey!" Danny said, eyes flashing. " If not for that last one, I'd still be dead! I heard what you did, but it was--"
"It was a necessary evil," Faust snapped. "None of them could've done it, and my soul was damned already when my father sold it to Nebiros. The
only thing that would've re-ignited the flames of Hell was an act of true evil. The *only* thing, Cassidy."
"Yeah, but you're a hero! If you hadn't done what you did, hell would still be frozen! The demons would still be on earth! That's why some of us stuck up for you!" Danny reminded him, bowling game forgotten.
"I know, and don't think I don't appreciate it. I do." Faust pushed his shades up onto his nose. "But the Justice League doesn't see it that way. Not all of them." He held up a hand to forestall Danny's reply. "Yeah, I got my soul back when Firestorm turned Nebiros' blood to concrete. But I lost it again when I murdered the Enchantress." His fingers slid up beneath the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses and came away dampened.
Daniel fell silent at the sight of Faust's tears. "Faust, man, I --" He paused, shook his head. "I'm a dope. Here I am trying to cheer you up and get you laid, like that'd fix all your problems."
Faust slowly lowered his shades and looked over them at Danny. Blue Devil's skin paled to a faint pastel. The eyes that regarded him solemnly over the lenses were -- in a word, soulless. They were devoid of emotion, empty.
"I know you mean well, and it is good to have a friend. Honestly. But these are not eyes that yonder barmaid would want to wake up to after an all-night fuckfest. These are eyes that would give the poor girl nightmares and have her in intensive therapy for the rest of her life! These are eyes that knew what it was like to *have* a soul once -- for all of thirty seconds." Faust hung his head, and his face became a portrait of grief and sorrow, entirely obliterating the facade of calm, blas he customarily wore.
"Even if I did take her home, I'd never have an orgasm from her. Never fall in love with her. I couldn't. I can't. It's impossible for me. Every emotion that you can have as heir to a soul is impossible for me. I can only grasp at them like trying to capture smoke. I can only know from an intellectual viewpoint what it's *supposed* to feel like."
Faust turned away, pushed up the shades again, and slucked back half his pint of beer, then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. "All I have is the remorse and grief of what I did -- the only memory of having a soul I get to carry around with me forever. I could offer her *nothing,* Daniel. Nothing." He sniffled once, then gestured to the lane. "Go take your shot."
Daniel paused, clearly trying to think of words that would be of comfort to Faust. But he had to admit that he had none. He rose, bowling his next frame. When he returned, his expression was resolute. His jaw was set, but he was silent.
Faust rose as well, then turned back to Blue Devil. "I'm a survivor, Dan. I have *had* to be. I've survived this long without a soul. I'll survive having had one for long enough to regret it. Let's finish our game, then I'll take you up on your offer to get me drunk." He patted the larger man on the shoulder, and trotted out his best smile -- the one he'd practiced to look sincere since he couldn't manage a real one.
"Deal, buddy," Daniel said, and *meant* it. ~We'll see about that,~ he thought, watching Faust bowl another two gutter balls. ~You got me my life back. Blue Devil I may be, but I make good on my markers. If there's a way to get back your soul to repay you -- I'll find it.~
Game finished, Faust returned to let Danny close out his 260 game and finish his last beer. The two men stood, and walked to the cashier. Various folks hailed the Blue Devil with the expected "I heard you were dead!" comments. Danny grinned and took them all in good humor, such that he was able while knowing his new friend was in such distress.
The waitress gave Faust one more doe-eyed look. Faust had to smile at her persistence. He murmured an incantation under his breath and produced a single red rose for her. "I am not the lucky one," he told her. "And as long as you work in this dive, you won't find the man you deserve. This is all I can offer you."
The waitress took the rose and stared in bewilderment at the handsome young man she'd been trying to impress all night. "Thanks," she murmured.
"No," Faust replied. "Thank *you*. You've made surviving a bit less difficult tonight." He bent to brush a kiss across her knuckles, then straightened his leather jacket and moved for the door.
~If he had the feelings that went with those gestures, he'd be a real hot commodity to women,~ Cassidy mused sympathetically. ~If there's a way to redeem his soul for the sacrifice he made -- I'm gonna find it.~
Blue Devil clasped Faust's shoulder companionably and the two men walked out into the New York night. A scream rang out over the sounds of late night traffic and they both broke into a run. Hell might have been put back where it belonged and the world set to rights -- but like Faust's own damned existence, there were still wrong things in the world...
Things Daniel Cassidy meant to set right. But first things first.
--fin